Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
LEXI
The point of coming to Ne’emba was to have fewer problems. Two weeks in, and now I have more than ever before. Not only do I have a magic wand MIA, I’ve also been stunned by Tristan Martinelli’s version of the real deal. I’m still flustered, and it’s been four hours since I walked in on him.
The visual of him, bare-chested, all tensed-up muscle as he held himself in check, that tanned hand gripping the vanity, and then…God. I bite my lip. Epic lady porn. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Making a coherent sentence at that point was a tall order, and then he brushed over the whole intimate affair and had the audacity to invite me to shower with him as a joke?
I swallow and bite my lip harder, trying not to squirm in my seat.
Tristan’s invitation to have a fun time was maybe meant to tease me, but his honesty about what he wants took me by surprise.
He hadn’t wanted me five years ago, but now… Many a truth is spoken in jest.
Worst part is, if it weren’t for my period, I would’ve stepped right into that shower without thinking twice.
The desert-dry weeks and the months we still need to spend together on this island stretch out in front of me.
There’s no way we’re going to hold out at this rate.
Human nature is going to be my Achilles heel.
And then he said he missed me already. I’ve never been annoyed with a guy to the point that I want to physically wrestle him.
But that’s where I am, and it’s both a fun and ridiculous idea, because Tristan’s tall and built and would let me toy with him for the fun of it.
And then he’d flip me over and pin me down in a second with his thigh pressing right there. I’m out of breath just thinking of it.
This morning was a flashback to the Tristan I knew long ago—playful and full of jokes, except now they’re thick with innuendos, or even worse, including no innuendos whatsoever.
For some reason, the way he wanted to make light of the situation riled me up even more, because it put him in that space where I don’t need him to be: the space where I fall in love with him again. And again.
I’m staring at my computer screen, wondering how to deal with whatever comes next.
How to look him in the eye after—
My phone beeps with a string of messages and plucks me out of my thoughts. As I reach for it, I meet Jem’s gaze where she’s studying me. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. You’re on the clock, honey, and your private life has no place at work.
She can fuck off already. I’m hardly ever on my phone. Ever since my responses to friends and family have ground to a halt, what with the time difference and work, people have given up on me. Not Tessa though. It must be really late for her to message me now.
Tessa
Third day of filming and today I had to shoot the same freaking scene twenty times.
Twenty times!!
Fuckit girl, I sucked sooo bad. I’ve never felt so dumb in my life. By the end of it, I bet they regret giving me the role.
What if I’m a total dud and this movie is basically the start and end of my career?
At the current rate I might never be cast in anything again!
A rapid fire of crying emojis follow her string of one-liners and I slump in my chair as my heart sinks. My arms itch with the need to pull my bestie in for hug.
Self-doubt runs rampant in the actor circles and so few people actually make it. All I can do is cheer her on. My thumbs hover over the keys to type back, but I’m not sure what to say.
Jem’s eyes are still on me, and now she studies my hesitation, so I stand and walk out of the office. I’d love to phone Tessa, but hell, the girl needs to be in bed—
“Lexi?” Jem calls, her voice stern. “Where are you going?”
I drop my head back with a groan and curse. Can she just give me space? Jem has no life and can’t bear the thought of anybody having one either.
Still, she’s the one who is going to report to Beaumont on every minuscule wrong I commit on this island, so I need to toe the line.
In haste I send Tessa a message:
Me
You’re amazing, gorgeous, a FANTASTIC actress, tomorrow is a new day and I know you will NAIL this. They chose you because you’re brilliant. One bad day isn’t the precedent, it’s a glitch in the Matrix. Go to bed, girl, you need to be fresh for tomorrow. I’ll try call you later. xxx
I send it off, feeling crap that I can’t do more. Tessa has been there for me through all my ups and downs, and now that she needs me, I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere.
With a sigh I walk back into the office, refrain from giving Jem the finger and sit down again.
“Lexi?”
I look up. Deshni is standing in the door, wringing her hands.
“Yes. Deshni. How can I help?”
Deshni shoots a nervous glance at Jem, and I force myself not to look her way too.
The hierarchy here is not exactly in the shape of a pyramid.
I’m still trying to figure out how some things work, but something’s up here and whatever it is, Deshni isn’t going to open up in front of Jem. The problem probably is Jem.
“I’m going to get some coffee. Walk with me?” I say as I stand.
“Don’t forget Matthias de Foch is flying in and will be landing at lunch time,” Jem says, giving me that look over her reading glasses. I’m playing truant again in her books. “He’s the first to arrive for this wedding and is alone, so he’s going to need some TLC.”
Tender loving care when it comes to guests means only one thing: he’s difficult as fuck.
But Matthias de Foch is a regular, and he’s footing the bill for his sister’s wedding.
“No problem. That’s plenty of time. I’ll have the radio with me, so let me know when he arrives if I’m not here.
” They still use walkie-talkies here, and I take mine and nod to Deshni.
Once we’re outside the office, she falls in next to me and we walk abreast.
“So what’s up?” I ask. Deshni and Sarika are both sweet, mostly soft-spoken, and flawlessly beautiful with thick black hair that is always neatly braided. But I suspect those are their general spa personas they reserve for their hours as Beaumont staff.
Deshni waits until we’re almost at the canteen, and when there’s nobody there, she says, “We’ve been working on some plans for the spa and were hoping you’d allow us to implement them.”
I’ve looked over the spa’s offerings and was surprised to find them so stock standard.
It’s something to keep partners and spouses who don’t go out for all those dives or other activities happy, but being on this side of the world, you’d think people would like something more exotic.
“I’d love to look at your plans. Sounds exciting. ”
“It is. We didn’t dare propose the changes to Miriam and Don, and Jem…” She shrugs. “You seem to be more open to fresh ideas.”
Hmm… Don and Miriam were a bit old school, but as for Jem, I’ve figured her all out. She’s in charge, and I’m just a front for guests. Me finding a way to strut my stuff for Nathan Beaumont is going to be difficult, if not impossible. “So where’s the plan? Do you have it in writing?”
Deshni smiles but blushes profusely at the same time. “Yes. It’s at the spa. If you can come over, I’ll talk you through it. Sarika is with a guest, so…”
“Sure, let’s go right now.” I’ll do anything to take my mind off what happened this morning. And the fact that my magic wand might be under the bed. Hopefully it’s hiding away where nobody else can find it until I have time to crawl around.
We change direction, skipping the warm coffees in favor of water, and head out to the spa. The walkway takes us past the dive center, where everything is quiet. The dive boat is out, which means Tristan is diving right now.
The spa has thick stone walls and a cooling waterfall feature with tropical plants that makes for a relaxing, zen environment in the seating area.
There are two treatment rooms for facials and other beauty treatments.
For massages, they have the outdoor sala where guests are treated in semi-privacy.
Jem so eloquently explained the reason those don’t happen behind closed doors here.
The place is spotless, and clearly the women take pride in their work. Deshni goes behind the spa’s counter and pulls out a stack of papers. Her eyes are downcast. “You asked for it in writing.”
I take the papers from her. They’re covered in neat-as-a-pin handwriting.
“Sorry it’s like that, but we don’t have access to any of the computers or printers here, and it’s been put on ice for so long that… Well, we haven’t bothered to do anything with it when we go home.”
This stack of paper is a life and situation summed up. “It doesn’t matter,” I assure her. “It’s the contents that are important.” I nod toward the seating area. “Let’s go through it together.”
Forty-five minutes later, it’s clear that there’s treasure here ready to be dug up.
The changes Deshni and Sarika are proposing are inspired by their Indian culture and Ne’emba’s location on the Spice Route.
They would like to supplement the traditional Beaumont spa menu with Ayurvedic treatments.
Some massages would require three sessions over three consecutive days, and that’s where everybody benefits.
This excites me more than any French manicure ever will, and would probably double the spa’s income in a few months. Deshni and Sarika will also be busier, which is probably why they came up with these plans in the first place.
“Do you have training in Ayurveda?” I ask.
“We spent time in India with family, and that’s where it all started. We were trained in Ayurveda before we trained as beauticians.”
“Fantastic. I’ll support you in all of this, but you know I can’t authorize anything. It has to go through head office.”
“Yes, but if we have someone in management putting our ideas forward, our chances are better.”
I nod. “I’m going to type this up and put it together in a proposal template. You can sign off on it, and then we’ll take it from there.”
Deshni studies me for a long moment, as if she’s weighing the situation—no, it’s as if she’s weighing me, considering whether she can hand their plans over or not. For the first time, I realize the amount of trust she has to have in me to surrender their vision.
“There’s no need for us to sign off on it. Only…will you claim these as your own ideas?” she asks, a weary edge in her tone.
“God, no. Why—” Oh. So this is how it’s been going.
The staff here don’t trust anybody. And now I wonder why they would trust me.
Maybe it’s because I’m an American, and they’ve never had an American manager here before.
Maybe it’s because I’m young too, especially for this position.
“Of course I won’t. I’ll support you all the way. ”
Deshni heaves out a breath and smiles. “Thank you. We knew you’d be different, so Sarika and I had that it’s-now-or-never moment this morning. You seem to have everything so perfectly together, and it would be great to have you on our side, even if it’s only until April.”
If she knew what a shitshow my life is, she wouldn’t be in such awe. As for our time here, we’re chipping away at it day after day. “Get your products lined up, and do some practice runs on Sarika. I’ll start today so we can get the ball rolling.”
“Thank you.”
I stand, and she does as well. “What are your long-term goals here?” I ask. “Have you thought them through?”
Deshni hesitates. “This is enough for now. Long term…I don’t know.
I’m on contract with Sarika, but she won’t stay here forever.
This is the only way we’re allowed to do it.
My father is not old-fashioned, and he is kind and want us to have this career, but the expectations are for us to get married too, and soon. It’s just…”
Now there are tears in her eyes, and my soul sinks into a puddle, seeing her like this. “Yes?” I touch her shoulder, encouraging her to continue.
“Well, for me… I’ll have to see what happens with—” She breaks off and sighs as a blush spreads on her cheeks and tears finally spill over.
“With?” I prompt when she doesn’t continue.
She shakes her head as she wipes her tears with a deprecating chuckle.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re so lucky. To be here with the man you love?
To be open and honest about it and have your family’s blessing?
You’re not even married. You’re only engaged and can be here, with him.
For me, it’s not so simple. I’ll have to settle for something arranged.
” She shakes her head again, and this time, I watch her close down.
Oh my God. Deshni just gave my heart a hairline crack.
She’s in love with someone she can’t have.
In her future awaits an arranged marriage.
The notion is so foreign to me that my world, which has always seemed so big and wide, suddenly seems small and insignificant—so small and insignificant that I can get away with faking an engagement and not thinking how bizarrely lucky I am able to transplant myself and flee my problems on a whim.
And that Tristan made it possible with our arrangement.
As if today hadn’t started off rough enough, I’m now a fraud with my staff.
This has been my moral conundrum from the start, and now it’s personal, with someone who has taken a leap of faith with little old me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as I squeeze her shoulder.
Sorry for so many things I can’t talk about. “If there’s anything I can do—”
“This is a good start,” Deshni says with a sniff. “That’s all I can ask for. Happiness is, after all, a decision, not a choice.”