Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1) (22 page)

‘Do you
have
to go back?’ Marcos asks, ‘I mean, you could easily get work over here. Rent an apartment. Lots of Brits have done it. Málaga is full of ex-pats,’ he laughs.

Isabel feels the first stirrings of excitement inside her, she has never been very impulsive, but maybe Marcos is right. Maybe she could move to Spain? A fresh start, gorgeous weather and she doubts that she would ever be short of visitors.

‘I don’t know,’ she smiles, taking a sip of water, ‘I suppose I just thought that moving abroad is something that other people do!’

‘Well, just think about it. You don’t have to rush into things. Take your time, do a bit of research whilst you’re here,’ he says casually. The way he makes full eye contact with her makes her believe that anything is possible.

After collecting Isabel’s overnight-bag from her apartment, they spend a relaxed afternoon together. With a bowl of Nacho’s and guacamole on Marcos’s shady terrace, they each work on their own project, chatting easily and sharing ideas. Marcos on his laptop, Isa on a tablet she borrowed from him. ‘I’m trying to set up another school, more inland from Málaga. There is a large expat community with a high demand for Spanish classes,’ he explains excitedly.

Isabel agrees, ‘well, if I do move to Spain, I will definitely have to take more classes to improve my Spanish!’

‘You wouldn’t believe the amount of foreigners out here who have lived here for more than twenty years and still don’t speak a word of the language,’ he laughs, shaking his head. ‘It’s easier here on the coast. There are English supermarkets, restaurants, even doctors and dentists if you can’t speak Spanish,’ he says, scrolling down the list of possible properties for his new venture.

‘Ohh, this is nice,’ says Isabel, leaning in towards her screen, ‘400 Euros a month? That’s amazing!’

Marcos gets up from the sofa and lowers himself onto the arm of Isabel’s chair, looking over her shoulder at the little white apartment with a large balcony, overlooking the communal gardens and pool.

‘Where is it?’ he asks, looking impressed.

‘Calahonda,’ she says, looking up at him, ‘Is that far from here?’

‘No, not really. You could probably get to Málaga in about twenty minutes by car and there are plenty of buses,’ he smiles, looking pleased. ‘Shall I print it off for you? We could even go and see it tomorrow if you like?’

‘Really?’ she asks, both hands springing to her cheeks as she jiggles her legs in dizzy excitement.

‘I don’t have any meetings tomorrow, so maybe we can make a day of it? Try to find some more apartments in that area! Leanne isn’t coming over until the evening,’ he says, getting up from the arm of the chair and heading inside to fetch them another drink.

Oh yes... Leanne,
thinks Isabel, her stomach lurching with something that she recognises instantly as jealousy.

L
eanne lifts her linen beach bag from the boot of her car. She nearly falls over the kerb in a desperate attempt to hide herself.
But... what the...
She can hardly believe what she is seeing. Marcos has just pulled into a parking space literally five cars in front of her. She watches as Isabel steps gracefully from the car, turning to smile at Marcos as she looks up at the house on the corner. The lights flash as he locks the doors and joins Isabel on the pavement, lifting up his sunglasses and looking up in the direction that Isabel is pointing in.
So this is where she’s hiding out!
Leanne smiles smugly. She keeps low, behind the boot of her car, until they turn in the direction of the house. She remains where she is, pretending to be checking the contents of her bag, until she hears the front door slam. Quickly, she crosses the road and steps into the shade of the nearest beach bar.

She orders herself a
café con hielo
and settles on the terrace overlooking the beach, feeling safe in the knowledge that Isabel is probably packing a bag and that there is little chance of them popping into the bar. She pours the small cup of dark, strong coffee over the ice in the glass tumbler, enjoying the sound it makes as the hot liquid cracks the large cylindrical cubes. As she adds a sachet of sugar and stirs, she glances back up towards the roof terrace. She feels torn. Part of her wants to go and hammer on the front door and demand to know what
her
fiancé is doing in Isabel’s holiday home, but she also wishes to detach herself from the situation, to enjoy the feeling of being free and single, waiting for her casual lover to arrive. She smiles to herself and sips the sweet, strong drink as she realises that David is likely to feel the same way. He has no idea that she is engaged to be married but she is sure that David is not the marrying type anyway,
I am certain of that
, she thinks. The arrangement suits them both.

She turns her chair and rests her feet on the low wall in front of her, enjoying the breeze on her face. She remembers when she first met David, eighteen months ago. He had walked into the hotel reception, asking to leave a message for a guest. She had been on her break and was on her way for a coffee in the hotel’s patio. She remembers how he had winked flirtatiously at her as she passed. She was taken by surprise a few minutes later when he confidently pulled up a chair opposite her and ordered himself a small beer. Leanne had looked at him with a quizzical smile. She admired his quiet arrogance and good looks. He was wearing board shorts and a smart Quicksilver shirt, his blonde hair ruffled by the sea breeze. His dark brown eyes, intense, as he looked up at her. She had hungered for him instantly.

He told her, without much more detail, that his name was David and that he was on business from London. He asked what time she finished her shift and, three hours later, they lay entwined together on one of the massage beds in the beauty parlour, unable to speak. He had a beautiful body. She was shocked how the raw need for him overwhelmed her, as she locked the door of the massage room and let him tear open her work uniform and take her roughly against the wall, without a second thought.

She had felt no guilt afterwards and they had never asked each other about partners, nor discussed future plans. They would meet up most weekends, and often during the week, for adventurous and mind-blowing sex together.
That is the basis of our entire relationship
, she often reminds herself. She has Marcos as her trophy and for financial stability, and David to satisfy her physical desires. Until now, she had simply assumed that their arrangement would continue indefinitely. She would marry Marcos and still meet up regularly with David. It wasn’t until Marcos had mentioned her giving up her job and working from home, that she had become worried.
I love Marcos
, she thinks, swirling the shrinking ice-cubes in her glass, but she realises that she has only really become aware of her true feelings for him since Isabel arrived on the scene.
Ironic!
she thinks,
everything becomes clearer with jealousy
.

She hears the creaking of the wooden boards of the terrace and turns to see David approaching. He is dressed, as usual, in beachwear, his wavy hair tucked back from his face with his designer shades.

‘Hi babe,’ he says in a smooth voice, ‘what’s up? How come you’re not at work? Everything ok?’

‘Fine,’ she says lightly, ‘just fancied a day off. I’ve been working lots of hours just lately. I think I deserve it, don’t you?!’ she pouts, reaching up and snaking one arm around his neck, kissing him deeply.

‘Hmmmm, you taste of caffeine!’ he smiles, pulling out a chair next to her and signalling for the waiter.

‘So what’s the plan gorgeous?’ David asks, after ordering two more coffees. ‘Saturday wasn’t soon enough for you, eh?’ he asks teasingly, lowering his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose and draping one arm casually over her shoulders.

Leanne leans forward in a sultry pose, caressing his thigh, allowing one of her dress straps to fall from her shoulder. She knows how to play him perfectly. The dress slides down just enough to reveal the curve of her dark nipple through the thin fabric. Then, as the waiter delivers their drinks, she innocently slips the strap back into place.

‘Jesus, Lea, I want you right here, right now,’ he whispers as he leans in to kiss her deeply, ‘meet you in the toilet? two minutes?’ His voice is husky with desire.

‘No’ she says quickly, grabbing his hand as he stands, ‘the sea,’ she smiles, running one hand through her long hair, her lips parted. ‘Let’s drink this quickly.’

‘Oh god Lea, I love you...’

Leanne brings her hand to her throat as she nearly chokes on a mouthful of coffee. She bangs her chest with her fist and coughs to clear her throat, ‘sorry? you... w
hat
did you say?’ she stutters, her eyes wide like saucers.

‘I... well... Lea, you look terrified! I just meant, well I don’t know, I mean I’ve been thinking,’ Leanne continues to stare at him, ‘well, I know we’re hardly Romeo and Juliet but it’s been, what a year and a half at least?’ he shrugs, trying to remain cool, ‘I thought you might feel the same way?’

Leanne replaces her coffee cup carefully on the table before turning to look at him. ‘Well, we do have a great time together. I don’t know, it’s just... it’s not what I expected I suppose,’ she stammers, ‘why now? I mean, why spoil the fun?!’ she asks with a half-hearted laugh.

‘The fun doesn’t have to stop Leanne,’ he says, smiling, running a finger gently down her arm.

Leanne brings the coffee cup up to her lips again averting her eyes. The silence is quickly becoming very uncomfortable. David withdraws his hand, picks up his own cup and stares out at the horizon.

David is the first to speak. Without making eye-contact with Leanne, he leans back in his chair and continues to focus on the boats out at sea. ‘I have to go back to England,’ he says in a distant voice. Leanne turns and studies the side of his face. She knows that he is serious. ‘Business has been slipping here for about six months now. They need me back in the office in London.’ He turns slowly to face her, removes his sunglasses and places them carefully on the table. ‘I leave in two weeks,’ he continues, searching her eyes for a reaction, ‘I was hoping that I could convince you to come with me, I suppose,’ he smiles sadly.

Leanne’s eyes fill with tears as she struggles with her emotions. She wants to run. Her initial reaction is to just run away. How on earth can she give him an answer?
What on earth am I supposed to say to that?!
she thinks.

She is momentarily distracted as she hears laughter and car doors slamming. She glances briefly over as she sees Marcos and Isabel pulling away from the kerb in the Mercedes.

‘Look, Lea, I can see that it’s come as a shock to you,’ he smiles sympathetically, ‘and I don’t expect an answer right now, of course.’ he continues as Isabel watches as the car disappears from view.

‘It has, I mean...’

‘I know, it’s a lot to take in,’ David interrupts, ‘there’s your job and everything...’ Leanne starts shifting in her chair, looking worrying pale.

‘Are you ok? Do you want a glass of water?’ he asks, resting his hand on her shoulder, ‘Lea, would you rather go home? I know I’ve kind of dropped a bomb shell and everything.’ He shrugs apologetically and looks increasingly concerned.

‘Do you mind?’ Leanne asks in a small voice. ‘I think I just need to be alone for a while. You understand, don’t you?’ she says, pulling her beach bag from under the table, ‘see you Saturday and we can talk, yeah?’

He watches as she heaves the bag up onto her shoulder, fumbles with her sunglasses and disappears into the dark interior of the restaurant.

‘
Shit,
’ says David to himself, as he sits heavily back down onto his chair, rubbing the back of his head roughly with both hands.

‘A large Whiskey please,’ he orders from the waiter who had come to clear the table, ‘for the shock.’ He laughs out loud, takes a medicinal gulp, and enjoys the burning sensation at the back of his throat.
How did I get that so wrong?!
he thinks.

Three whiskies later, David pays the bill and is about to step out onto the sand when the waiter stops him, ‘you are English, right?’

‘Right,’ he answers, nodding slowly.

‘You know an English girl called Isabel?’

‘No. Why?’ he asks, looking confused.

‘A man called Paul came in yesterday looking for her. Thought you might know her?’

‘No, sorry mate. Can’t help you. See you later!’ David throws his towel over his shoulder and heads out towards the sea, shaking his head. ‘Bloody hell,’ he mumbles.

‘S
o, the first appointment is at ten o’clock, right?’ asks Marcos, as he and Isabel sit opposite each other at his breakfast bar.

‘Right,’ she answers, smiling and shuffling through the papers in front of her, ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ she laughs excitedly. ‘I know I’m only going to
view
the properties, but even that is a huge step for me!’

‘Which is your favourite?’ he asks, biting into a croissant.

‘I still think the first one I found actually. The garden and pool area look really well maintained and it says here, that you can even see across to Africa from the balcony on a clear day! Imagine that!’ she grins, stirring sugar into her coffee and checking the time on her watch.

Her enthusiasm is infectious and Marcos finds himself wanting to finish breakfast as quickly as possible. ‘You want any more tea?’ he asks, as he stands up and brushes the crumbs from his shorts.

‘No, I’m fine. Shall we just get going?’ she asks, applying a thin layer of tinted lip gloss and checking the contents of her handbag.

Marcos laughs, ‘come on then!’ he says, gathering up the plates and cups and stacking them carefully in the sink, ‘I’ll just grab my wallet and keys, then we’ll hit the road...! I love that English expression,’ he laughs.

With one of Marcos’s caps holding Isabel’s hair firmly in place, they enter the motorway towards Calahonda, with the roof down. Isabel enjoys the views down to the coast, pointing out some of the large impressive villas, their extensive manicured grounds and turquoise swimming pools glistening in the sun.