The High Life

Chapter One Imani

Something is wrong.

I should be working on re-upping my tan and swimming with the turtles and dolphins off the coast of Curieuse Island in the Seychelles right now.

Instead I’m sitting in a charged silence, listening to the rain pelt my father’s car as we hurtle down the motorway.

Even Nathan, my father’s driver, hasn’t dared to play any music.

I risk a sideways glance at my father. His fingers are tapping incessantly against his thigh and I can only describe the expression on his face as one of pure unease.

Yes. Something is definitely wrong. Because Malcolm Davies, business tycoon and owner of Peregrine Airways, doesn’t do unease.

He doesn’t do anxiety, or vulnerability, or fear.

There’s a reason he’s unrivalled in the aviation industry, conducting deals, acquisitions and strategic manoeuvres with all the finesse of a grandmaster playing chess.

I’ve sat in boardrooms and watched him negotiate multimillion-pound contracts without so much as breaking a sweat.

But right now? Right now, my father looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. This doesn’t bode well for me.

‘Dad?’ My voice is swallowed by the sound of the rain on the roof, but he hears me all the same.

His gaze flickers towards me and, for a moment, his expression softens slightly.

But then I blink and his deep brown eyes are cool and guarded once more.

He leans forward and presses the button to activate the divider between Nathan and us.

I sit up a little straighter.

Nathan has been in my father’s employ since I was a teen and has proved his loyalty and discretion a thousand times over. If there’s something my father doesn’t want Nathan to hear, it must be big.

‘Sorry to cut your trip to Bali short,’ he starts, once it’s just the two of us.

‘It was the Seychelles,’ I say with a wry grin.

‘Bali was last month.’ I can’t blame him for not being able to keep track of my comings and goings – I can barely keep track myself.

I have a permanently packed suitcase on standby and I’m on my third passport in as many years.

Being the only daughter of Malcolm Davies has many, many perks, but the ability to fly to any country on a whim is definitely my favourite.

‘And it’s fine. I’ve rebooked onto a flight later this evening. ’

My father clears his throat, and there is it again. That unfamiliar look of unease flashing across his face. It doesn’t suit him at all. ‘I’m going to need you to put a pin in the Seychelles for now.’

A squawk of surprise gets stuck in my throat and he shoots me a surprisingly sympathetic look.

‘It’s just for now. Just until we’ve…’ He trails off and resumes tapping his fingers against his thigh. ‘Just until we’ve ironed out a few kinks.’

‘Ironed out a few kinks in what?’ A knot starts to form in my stomach.

My father and I have an unspoken agreement, one that’s been in place since I was old enough to talk.

I play the role of dutiful heiress to the Peregrine Airways fortune and the Davies legacy, and I don’t do anything to put that in jeopardy.

Unlike others my age in the social circles we orbit, I’ve never been involved in a scandal.

Never been plastered across Instagram socialite gossip pages with nasty rumours attached to my name.

Never done anything that could be used to lower the value of our stock.

And, in return, my bank account remains limitless and I have free rein to do whatever I like to do.

Namely, travelling to countries with sprawling golden beaches and delicious fruity cocktails on tap.

So why does it sound like my father is planning on reneging on that agreement?

He sighs and runs a tired hand over his face. ‘You’ve heard of Vouvalis Resorts?’

The name rings a bell in more ways than one, but I know what my father is asking.

You’d be hard pressed to find someone who hasn’t heard of Vouvalis Resorts – a luxury hotel and resort brand founded by Georgios Vouvalis ten years ago, which has rapidly flown up the ranks and become a fast favourite among the upper echelon of society – me included.

If there’s a Vouvalis hotel or resort in a country I’m visiting, I don’t think twice about booking a room.

‘Georgios and I connected at an event a few months back,’ my father continues. ‘I won’t bore you with the specifics, but it seems we have a lot in common when it comes to the future of our respective companies.’

I nod. To call Georgios’ rapid expansion of Vouvalis Resorts impressive would be an understatement.

He’s the current darling of the hospitality industry and barely a week seems to go by without him securing another high-profile interview or feature with Forbes, Fortune or Bloomberg.

Everyone wants a piece of him, and apparently my father is no exception.

‘Peregrine Airways has dominated the skies for the last thirty years but the sky doesn’t have to be the limit.’ He shifts in his seat and fixes me with a slightly desperate look. ‘Georgios and I have been discussing the benefits of a merger.’

‘You’re joking.’ I may be his only daughter, but I’ve always known that Peregrine Airways is my father’s first child.

He built this company from the ground up and transformed it into the titan of aviation it is today.

The idea of him doing anything that would relinquish any of his control or jeopardise the success of the company is laughable.

Pure insanity. ‘You’ve got to be joking. ’

He ignores my splutter of disbelief and continues.

‘This is what I meant by needing to iron out the kinks. Georgios and I obviously have a vested interest in retaining ownership and control of our respective companies, but it’s undeniable that we could help each other here.

I’ve been toying with the idea of breaking into the hospitality industry for a while now and, it just so happens, Georgios has had similar thoughts about aviation. ’

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t understand the appeal.

Georgios already has a stronghold on the luxury hospitality industry and combining forces with him would give my father a ten-year head start that his competitors could only dream of.

I imagine the opposite is the same for Georgios: being able to claim a stake in the skies without having to do any of the hard work to get there.

‘Why are you telling me this?’ I ask with a frown.

My father has never once brought me in on a business decision before he makes the final call.

I may be his daughter, but I know better than anyone else that I have no sway with him.

When it comes to money matters, Malcolm Davies does what Malcolm Davies wants, and usually it’s the right decision.

But this just doesn’t feel right. There’s something else. Something he’s not telling me.

‘It’s been a difficult few years for both the aviation and hospitality industries,’ he continues, as if I haven’t asked him anything. ‘The pandemic did a number across the board, and we’re only just recovering.’

The car crawls to a slow halt and my father starts to look slightly panicked.

‘And our shareholders and investors are still a little reluctant to make large decisions like this. They think a move like this is still too risky in the current climate. Georgios also has a bit of a…’ He clicks his tongue.

‘A reputation. He’s ruthless in a way I’ve never been and some may say joining forces with him is too much of a risk. ’

‘So don’t do it,’ I say bluntly. I’ve read enough profiles of Georgios in Forbes and Fortune to know exactly what he means by ruthless.

The man started out in the construction industry over twenty years ago, and rumours of sidelined partners and maliciously undercutting his competition have followed him his entire career.

It doesn’t surprise me at all that the shareholders don’t think they can trust him.

‘But we think we’ve found a way around that,’ my father says, deftly ignoring my interruption. ‘A way for everyone to trust that Georgios isn’t going to run the company into the ground at the first opportunity.’

‘The fact that that’s even a possibility should be turning you off the whole idea,’ I mutter.

Once again he ignores my interruption, but I’m pretty sure I see his lip twitch.

‘Georgios has a son. Well, he has three, but this only concerns Asher.’

And there’s that second bell.

Asher Vouvalis.

Everything I know about Asher Vouvalis could fit on a Post-it note – and there’d still be room left to write on it.

I know that he’s the third Vouvalis boy, that we attended the same university ten years ago, and – well, that’s about it.

Vouvalis Resorts was still in its infancy a decade ago and Asher and I didn’t really exist in the same social circles at university.

I can vaguely picture him in the periphery of my memories, but it’s nothing concrete.

The only thing I do remember is that he was a friend of a friend’s friend, and I think I wordlessly passed a bottle of wine to him at a party years ago.

Maybe.

Aside from that one potential interaction, Asher and I have never said so much as one word to each other and, over the last ten years, he’s faded into relative obscurity.

Nothing like his brothers Andreas and Theodore, who have dominated business broadsheets and Instagram gossip pages with deal after deal, and scandal after scandal, for as long as I can remember.

‘What about him?’ I ask cautiously, the knot in my stomach growing tenfold.

My father meets my eye and holds my gaze for the first time since I stepped into his car. ‘Georgios and I have been discussing a union of sorts.’

‘A union?’

‘A marriage,’ my father clarifies, with only a hint of a wince. ‘Between you and his son. Asher.’

‘A marriage,’ I repeat slowly, blinking in disbelief at my father. ‘Between me and Asher Vouvalis?’