Page 20 of Meet Me at Sunset

Isobel rose late the following morning and sat out on her balcony, sipping coffee and water, luxuriating in the warmth of the day.

She’d had a lot of fun at the yacht party – perhaps a little too much, she thought regretfully, as she popped a couple of paracetamols and felt grateful for her dark sunglasses.

It had been a wonderful event, and she’d enjoyed mingling with the celebrities, drinking what seemed like unlimited amounts of vintage champagne, and eating the delicious food that Lucas had prepared.

Everyone had started dancing on the sand, and the night had turned into a lively party, which continued on the boat as it brought them back to Cala de la Belleza, before a fleet of vehicles drove the guests back to their hotels.

There’d been gossip about Elle’s behaviour and the drama she had caused, a whiff of scandal in the warm, night air, but it didn’t seem to have affected the glitz and glamour of the event.

Isobel was trying to decide on her plans for the day when she heard the phone ring in her room. She strolled back inside to answer it.

‘Darling, I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to call you until now, I’ve been so busy.’

‘Good morning, Stuart,’ Isobel said frostily. She was still annoyed with him, but also secretly rather pleased that he’d called as she wanted to tell him about the party.

‘How are you? Did you have a good time last night?’

‘It was so much fun! You should have been there, Stuart. There were so many famous faces, it was like the Oscars. And Lucas’s girlfriend caused a huge scene because Camille didn’t name her as the face of the brand …’ Isobel chattered on. ‘Are you listening?’

‘Of course I am. Every word!’ he sighed. ‘I wish I was there with you instead of working.’

‘Well, that was your choice,’ she replied tartly. ‘Why don’t you just jump on the next plane back?’

‘I’d love to, but I need to stay for an extra couple of days …’

Isobel clenched the receiver so tightly that her knuckles turned white. ‘I sincerely hope this is a joke – even if it’s not a very funny one.’

‘It’s not a joke. I’m so sorry. I wish it weren’t the case but there’s nothing I can do.’

‘There is something you can do, Stuart. You can say no.’

‘I really can’t. They’re paying me a small fortune and—’

‘It’s not all about the money,’ Isobel burst out and tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Why does your work always have to come first? Why am I never your priority?’

‘I’m doing this for us ,’ Stuart insisted. ‘I need to make sure we’re in a really strong financial position and then we can … we can think about having a baby.’

A baby was the one thing that she longed for, but she didn’t like the way Stuart was using it as a bargaining chip.

‘Look,’ he continued, his voice softening as he imagined he was winning her over. ‘I’ll check my diary and move some things around. We can stay an extra night at the hotel when I get back to Majorca. Maybe even two.’

‘Don’t bother,’ she snapped, before hanging up the phone.

Isobel had spent the afternoon wandering through the narrow, winding lanes of the old town, browsing the boutiques. Palma was beautiful. The capital of Mallorca was a lively port town, dominated by the enormous Gothic Santa María Cathedral, which overlooked the shimmering Bay of Palma.

After the argument with Stuart, she had wanted a change of scenery, something to take her mind off her emotions.

She longed to feel the bustle of a city.

She’d asked the hotel to call her a cab, and after a few hours in the city, she was beginning to realize that she had had a better day on her own than she would have done with Stuart.

She imagined him trailing around after her, complaining about the heat and how many shops she was visiting, all the time checking his mobile when he thought she wasn’t looking.

In summary, in her heart of hearts, she knew she wasn’t missing Stuart as much as she should be.

Perhaps because he didn’t deserve it.

As twilight fell and the shadows lengthened across the square, Isobel was wondering whether to eat dinner at one of the inviting restaurants down by the harbour, or get a taxi back to the hotel before it grew dark, when she felt someone watching her as she browsed in the window of a ceramics shop.

Turning around, she saw a familiar-looking man standing in the street staring at her, as tourists filtered around him.

He was dark and olive-skinned, broad-shouldered and stocky, and he stepped towards her, a confident smile on his face.

‘You’re Camille’s friend,’ he said to her, in English with a Spanish accent. ‘You’re staying at the palacio, right?’

‘Yes, I am. Staying at the palacio, that is. I’m not Camille’s friend …’

‘Even better,’ he grinned. ‘I thought I recognized you – I never forget a beautiful woman. I’m Paulo Torres.’

He held out his hand and Isobel shook it. ‘Isobel MacFarlane. You were at the boat party yesterday, weren’t you?’

‘Yes. In fact, it was my boat. I also co-own the restaurant, Il Paradiso.’

‘A man of many talents,’ Isobel laughed. ‘My husband and I dined there a few nights ago, it was wonderful. In fact, I think I remember seeing you as we arrived.’

‘And where’s your husband now?’

‘He’s on the mainland. For work.’ She rolled her eyes, knowing she shouldn’t criticize Stuart to this virtual stranger, but unable to help herself.

‘And he’s left you here, all alone? He should take better care of you …’

Yes, he should , Isobel thought defiantly, though she didn’t say so to Paulo. The way her eyes sparkled made it clear she agreed, though. ‘I’ve been having a wonderful time without him. Sightseeing, shopping …’

Paulo shook his head and sighed. ‘No, this won’t do. A beautiful woman cannot be left alone like this. I was born and raised on the island – I need to show you Mallorcan hospitality.’

‘Do you?’ Isobel said. There was something about Paulo’s easy, flirtatious manner that she liked.

After so long feeling neglected and dismissed by Stuart, it was nice to be charmed and flirted with.

Besides, it wasn’t as though Paulo was a complete stranger – she’d seen him at the restaurant and the boat party, and he knew Camille and Lucas.

And he knew Stephanie too, Isobel realized, as the pieces slid into place.

They’d been on a date together, but it hadn’t worked out and she’d broken it off with him at yesterday’s party …

‘Yes, I do,’ Paulo was saying with a grin. ‘So how about you meet me back here in an hour’s time. I have a little business to take care of first, but I’ll be back.’

‘And then what?’ Isobel asked, tossing her hair coquettishly.

‘And then, Isobel MacFarlane, I’m going to take you to dinner.’

Isobel and Paulo were seated outside a restaurant in the marina; the luxurious yachts moored nearby were attracting a lot of attention from passing tourists.

The warm night air wrapped itself around them, a candle flickering softly on the table and bathing them in a warm glow.

It was an upmarket establishment, catering to an exclusive, international clientele, and Isobel was enjoying herself.

Paulo had ordered a very expensive bottle of wine, and they were discussing the spectacular boats, Paulo clearly trying to impress her with his knowledge of the super-yacht industry.

‘And what about the business you had to attend to earlier?’ Isobel asked, spearing a forkful of octopus. ‘Was that related to your yachts?’

Paulo smirked. ‘ That was something else. I can’t say too much, but rest assured it’s very lucrative for me,’ he added, angling his wrist to ensure she noticed the Rolex.

Isobel laughed. Paulo was nothing if not entertaining, and full of bravado, boasting incessantly. But he was young and hot and charming, and right now that was all Isobel wanted.

‘And that’s in Palma?’ she asked, raising her wine glass to indicate the city.

‘Yeah. I’ll be spending a lot more time here – it’s where the action is. Belleza is a backwater. No offence – I know it’s pretty for the tourists, but I need more excitement.’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively; Paulo certainly wasn’t subtle.

‘But what will happen to Il Paradiso, if you’re spending so much time in Palma?’

Paulo shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s time to give up on that. Lucas will never get a Michelin star. No one cares about his homemade stews, it’s peasant food.’ He took a slug of his wine, as Isobel sipped hers thoughtfully.

‘How do you know Lucas?’

‘I’ve known him since we were kids. His grandmother lived on the island – she was Mallorcan – and he used to stay with her whilst his parents were travelling. Too busy to have him around,’ he said, his eyes narrowed.

‘Are you close to the family? I know Andre was in that terrible accident, but you must know Camille well if you’ve been friends all these years …’

‘I know she’s not as perfect as she pretends to be,’ Paulo said, his tone bitter.

The sound of other diners washed over them, the background hum of chatter and laughter, the clink of cutlery against plates, as the water lapped against the marina wall on the other side of the cobbled walkway.

Paulo fixed his gaze on Isobel, his dark eyes glittering.

‘I know she has secrets. I know things about that family that no one else does, and she should be grateful that I’m keeping my mouth shut. ’

‘What sort of secrets?’ Isobel asked innocently.

But Paulo wasn’t falling for her question. He laughed loudly, then shook his head. ‘You may be beautiful, Isobel, but I can’t give up my secrets so easily.’

‘Camille’s husband was killed in a car crash, wasn’t he?’ Isobel said.

Paulo nodded. ‘In Switzerland. It was after a party. We were racing too fast on the mountain road, and—’

‘We?’ Isobel interrupted.

‘Hmm?’

‘You said “we”.’ Was Paulo there too? she wondered suddenly.

‘Did I? It was a … How do you say it in English? Slip of the tongue … Lucas was in the car with his father. He was badly injured.’

‘I know. My husband was one of the team of surgeons who operated on him.’

‘Was he indeed?’ Paulo glanced across at her, his eyes shrewdly analysing her. ‘What a coincidence. The same husband who’s not here right now?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘ Descuidado ,’ Paulo murmured under his breath, and Isobel laughed.

‘ Sí, es muy descuidado ,’ she replied casually.

‘You speak Spanish?’

‘Yes, a little.’

‘How come?’

‘I trained as a fashion designer. I interned for a few different companies in Europe – in Madrid, and Milan, and Paris …’

‘Well, Isobel, you’re full of surprises,’ Paulo breathed huskily.

Isobel took a long swallow of her wine. They were surrounded by strangers, and she was feeling reckless. ‘What if I told you I had a secret about Camille, too.’

Paulo laughed dismissively. ‘Like what? That her favourite colour’s blue? That her guilty pleasure is eating chocolate ice cream?’

Isobel felt a shard of ice shoot through her spine. Men made a habit of underestimating her. ‘Oh no. Something much bigger than that.’

Paulo’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as though trying to figure her out. ‘Well in that case, I’d say that we should get out of here. I’m heading back to Belleza; maybe we can carry on this conversation somewhere more private?’

‘Sure,’ Isobel said casually, though her heart was beating rapidly as she wondered what she was getting herself into.

The two of them sat in silence, sizing each other up, the weight of unspoken secrets between them.

‘Thank you for dinner,’ Isobel said.

‘The pleasure was all mine. I couldn’t leave you stranded in a strange city. I’m not the kind of man to leave you on your own.’

Isobel smiled at the thinly veiled dig at Stuart. She was feeling a little drunk, a little reckless.

Paulo opened his wallet and threw a pile of notes down ostentatiously on the table, before grabbing Isobel by the hand.

She allowed his fingers to close possessively around hers, noticing the way he moved with absolute confidence, his broad shoulders carving a path through the crowd.

She didn’t know a soul here; no one knew she was with Paulo, and the situation held a frisson of danger.

He turned and winked at her, leading her away from the crowds and towards the darkness.

Without giving herself time to think, Isobel followed him.

She was intrigued by what Paulo knew about Camille.

She didn’t want to be alone right now, didn’t want the night to end.

And she wanted Paulo to tell her his secret, and she would do whatever it took to find out.