The Love Resort (2 page)

Abigail had taken Anne-Marie for lunch in a small, dark restaurant, and told her that they had a problem.

‘The thing is, darling, that your fans are increasing by the day and they want to meet you.’

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ Anne-Marie had asked nervously.

‘Darling, it’s wonderful. However, to these people you
are
romance. Your books take them out of their dull worlds and into places they can only dream of, with people they can only dream of. That’s why you are gold. However, before we can launch you, at readings, signings and various conferences, we need to be sure that you don’t let them down.’

‘Why would I?’

‘This is delicate, but the upshot is that you need to start practising what you preach. You write about women who are beautiful—and you are beautiful.’

‘Do you think so?’ Anne-Marie was doubtful; she had never been called beautiful by anyone in her whole life. She was twenty-eight going on forty, she knew that, but what no one understood was that she had all the beauty she needed in her books. She didn’t need anything else.

‘Yes, without the glasses, plus a little hair work, make-up and some nice clothes. What I’m saying is that you need to look like a heroine from your books, you need to give that to your fans, because, you see, darling, you represent hope to them.’

‘So I need a makeover?’ Anne-Marie had never really considered her appearance. She was a writer, sitting at her desk in the living room of her flat, wearing her tracksuit, or her pyjamas sometimes. She lived a solitary life.

‘I am going to introduce you to a stylist who will work wonders on you. There is one more thing.’

‘What?’ Anne-Marie was unsure if she should be happy about the conversation or not. She wanted to be a success, she was a success, but did she want to become someone she wasn’t?

‘You need to get yourself a man.’

‘A man?’ Her eyes had widened. Anne-Marie had once dated a piano tuner who wore brown sandals with grey socks, but he was the only one. They’d had sex, twice, but not like the sex in her books. You couldn’t have the passion that she wrote about with a man who wore brown sandals over grey socks, after all. Her life was lived vicariously through her books. She was every heroine she wrote about; her lovers were her heroes. The conversation with Abigail scared her. She knew that things were changing and change could be dangerous; treacherous even.

‘Yes. I’ll find you one. Someone who will play the hero to your heroine. Anne-Marie, it’s time for you to start living the life that you were born to live.’

Suddenly and surprisingly, Anne-Marie found herself smiling. ‘You think that this was the life I was meant for? Love and beauty and romance?’ Her eyes widened. She believed in it, she wrote about it, she longed for it, but she didn’t think she would ever have it.

‘I am one hundred per cent sure of it,’ Abigail had replied.

Dear, dear Abigail...On that note, Anne-Marie thought about getting up and writing. Her new-found optimism almost demanded it, but instead she decided to arrange a massage. And perhaps a facial. Then she’d write.

*

Anne-Marie sent the masseur away. The resort had a top spa but Anne-Marie preferred the privacy of being worked on in her own house, which was on the edge of the resort. She had personally designed it, although she’d left the resort to a team of architects. Set on stilts, it afforded the most wonderful view, and she had a terrace on each floor to take full advantage of it. From there she could see the whole resort; the sandy beach, the glistening sea, the luxury bungalows, the brightly coloured gardens; she could see her world. A living room, a kitchen, a bathroom and a den were on the ground floor (the den was really for Ed). Upstairs there was one enormous bedroom, two bathrooms, and two dressing rooms. She didn’t need more rooms; she had a hotel for guests, after all. Not that she had many personal guests.

She looked at the clock and saw that it was time to dress for dinner. She wondered where Ed was, but suspected that he would still be in the office, trying to come up with ways of cheering her up. He was such a walkover, never had been able to stand up to her. Sometimes she wished he would tell her to shut up, and then physically take her in his arms and kiss her, but he wouldn’t. And honestly, she didn’t really like him kissing her. She actually didn’t like him an awful lot.

As she climbed into the shower she thought about the staff. When she had been hiring, she and Ed had worked closely with various department managers so she had been able to control what the employees looked like. The activities boys, all physi-cally buff; the waiters, all terribly handsome; the entertainment boys, all utterly divine. The women she hired (although not so many) were all pretty in an innocent way. No one with over-long nails or large chests got through her process. She wanted the place filled with maidens. The one thing they all had in common was that they were young. Young and beautiful. Toned and taut. Rippling...

She ensured that she saw photos of all potential staff, apart from those who worked behind the scenes: the kitchen staff and the chambermaids. Ed was in charge of the actual interviewing, and he had delegated much of that to the managers of each area, but Anne-Marie kept tabs on them all. She knew how they looked but she didn’t deal directly with them if she could help it. She smiled at them when she saw them around the resort, but they were all aware that they were not to approach her, or try to engage her. They could speak to her only when and if she spoke to them. She often chose not to speak to them.

She had mental affairs with some of ‘her’ boys. She deserved that, although she would never act on it. She was in her forties, rich beyond her needs and still well presented. She had so many to choose from, she shuddered as she imagined it. She felt herself come alive as she pictured them in her head, although that was where they stayed. She was married, after all. For better for worse. Till death do us part.

The Love Resort had been her idea. She wanted to surround herself with the love and the romance she wrote so eloquently about. If she managed to get it to appeal to young lovers then it would be perfect. Suddenly an idea formed in her head. Things were about to get exciting. Abigail was coming, and she, Anne-Marie, would get her resort exactly as she wanted it. Then she would write about it; the best book of her life. The old people’s visits would be phased out. The only reason she hadn’t banned them already was because Ed wouldn’t let her turn paying customers away. But soon the beautiful people would come and then she could do as she pleased. Her genius was simply astounding.

The queen of romance was back on her throne, and she thought she might even start writing the following day.

*

‘Lock the door,’ Ed ordered, as soon as Anne-Marie had gone.

‘Yes, sir,’ Lily replied coyly. She walked slowly over to the door and turned the key. Ed gazed at her appreciatively. She was just so damn sexy. In her thigh-skimming skirt, her high heels, and the sheer blouse that was so inviting, she was everything a woman should be. Everything his wife wasn’t.

‘Over here,’ he commanded, and she obeyed.

‘What if she comes back?’ Lily approached her lover.

‘With that mood, she’ll be gone for hours.’ He lifted her on to her desk, and removed her clothes. They made frantic love, with an urgency that reflected their limited time together.

‘Jesus, that was amazing.’ Lily buttoned up her blouse.

‘It always is,’ Ed replied, grinning.

‘Ed, I really love you, you know that, don’t you?’

‘I do, and I love you.’ He reached over and hugged her tightly.

‘I wish it was just us. All the time.’ Lily’s eyes filled with tears.

‘It will be, I promise. Be patient.’ He kissed her tears away.

‘Why did you marry her?’ Lily asked suddenly.

‘You know why.’ Ed had told her the story many times, although it felt to him more as if he was making excuses for his decision. Which, he believed, hadn’t really been his; there had been no decision for him to make. It had been a total ambush. He was a weak man who had married his wife because he was flattered, because she told him to, because he didn’t have any balls.

‘You were flattered, she was famous, and sweet, and you were swept up in it all—yes I know, I know, but it doesn’t make sense.’ Ed could see that Lily was getting agitated, which she always did when they talked about his marriage.

‘Well, the truth is, darling, I was. But I was also set up.’ She obviously found it hard to understand. He couldn’t blame her because most of the time he didn’t understand it either.

‘So, it wasn’t love at first sight?’

‘Lily, the moment you walked into this office for your job interview, it was love at first sight. And I had never been in love before, which is the truth.’

He stared at her, absorbing her beauty. He couldn’t believe his luck. Why this beautiful, plucky, twenty-nine-year-old American would be interested in him was beyond him. Fourteen years of marriage to Anne-Marie had knocked what little self-confidence he still had out of him. Lily, with her overt sexuality, her genuine interest in him and her compassion, had begun to restore it from the moment that she first seduced him.

Anne-Marie and Ed had been dining with some of their guests. It was a chore, but once a week a raffle was held and the prize was dinner with the star and her husband. The guests loved it, and paid the hundred-dollar ticket price without complaint. The dinner had been boring, and afterwards Anne-Marie had swept off in a foul mood to bed, leaving Ed to do his nightly check on the happiness of their guests. Lily had been sitting at the bar and she’d asked him to join her. They’d spoken a little about the evening’s entertainment (twenty greatest love songs with Juliana), before she’d asked him to join her back at her bungalow.

‘Why?’ he’d asked when she’d shut the door and begun tearing at his clothes.

‘You are gorgeous, clever, sweet and kind. Everything I want in a man.’ As she’d kissed him in a way that Anne-Marie never had, he’d decided not to argue.

Ed stared at Lily as she worked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He thought back to when he was introduced to Anne-Marie. She was sweet when he met her. Dressed all in pink, she seemed girlish, with long silky blonde hair, which he later discovered was a wig. She was shy at first as well, vulnerable, and she giggled, like a girl. He was attracted to her. He wasn’t in love with her; he’d never been in love with her. He knew that now he was in love with Lily.

He had stopped feeling bitter about his marriage and now he just felt sad. Anne-Marie loved only romance, and they had never had that. What they had was something they had created. Ed had been fixed up: hair, teeth, body and clothes all worked on. Anne-Marie had managed to turn him into one of her heroes and he had done nothing to stop her. Which is something he’d felt ashamed of ever since; something he was desperate to put right. Thinking about it made him strengthen his resolve.

‘I’m going to leave her.’ He had told Lily this before, but this time he was more determined.

‘But can we really walk away?’

‘We can, but not just yet. We’d be penniless.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘But I do. I will not run off with you and be unable to give you the life you deserve.’ He was determined to be a man about it, to prove to Lily that he wasn’t the coward that he felt he was. He had to ensure that he could take care of her. He needed to take care of her.

‘Then we’ll wait for the right time.’

‘We’ll figure it out, I promise. I don’t love her, I love you.’

2

About
The
Owner

Anne-Marie Langdale is a world-famous novelist and widely acknowledged queen of romance. She has published fifteen titles, all of which were international bestsellers.* The Love Resort is her way of bringing her books to life and to you.

Born in Oxfordshire, Anne-Marie had a wonderful traditional English upbringing. She was tipped for fame at an early age, her genius for writing discovered during her school days.

Beautiful, popular, outgoing, compassionate are just a few words consistently used to describe this great literary talent.

Official
Love
Resort
Brochure

*If you wish to purchase any of Anne-Marie Langdale’s books they are available in all good bookshops or at The Love Resort gift shop.

*

‘You’re late,’ Anne-Marie snapped, although her tone was devoid of its customary sharpness.

‘Sorry, darling, I went for a swim. It’s awfully hot today.’ Ed looked around him at the empty white room and noted to himself, not for the first time, that their house looked so unlived in.

‘It is.’ Anne-Marie barely noticed in her air-conditioned home.

‘Are you OK? You had a rest,’ he asked tentatively. He really didn’t want confrontation tonight.

‘Oh, yes, I’m perfectly fine. Ed, can you ask Lily to join us for a light supper?’

Ed’s heart started pounding. What if she’d found out about them? She’d take them both to supper and skewer them. Then she’d probably eat them. Oh God, she couldn’t know.

‘Ed? You’ve turned a funny colour.’

‘Sorry, sorry. Why do you want Lily to join us? I rather fancied spending time alone with my wife.’

‘Oh, Ed, you’re so sweet,’ she replied insincerely. ‘No, this is business. We will dine here tonight, away from the frightful guests, and I’ve got an idea that might help us.’

‘I’ll give her a call.’

‘Tell her that I want her here at eight. Now, you get showered and changed and I’ll go and organise drinks.’

Ed called Lily and relayed the message. She sounded scared, but he tried to reassure her without Anne-Marie hearing anything. He then went upstairs, through the pink bedroom, to his pink dressing room, where he discarded his clothes, before entering his own bathroom, which was thankfully devoid of pink, and getting into his shower.

*

Lily put the phone down and felt an involuntary shiver. Ed had said it was business, but Anne-Marie never invited her to the house to eat. What if she’d found out? She’d kill her. She’d probably invited her to supper to kill her. The worst thing was that because Anne-Marie was her boss, Lily had no choice but to go to her death. She showered and changed into a dress; Anne-Marie believed in dressing for dinner. After applying her make-up Lily checked in the mirror—pretty good; at least when she was murdered she would be looking fantastic.