Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [147]
“I’ll be there as soon as possible, Vennie—whatever it is, it’ll be all right. Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.”
Paris banged down the phone and hurried back toward the car. What could have happened to upset Vennie so much? And what else could go wrong, for God’s sake? Thrusting the car into gear, she threaded her way back through the town and took the coast road west for St. Tropez.
By nature Olympe was adaptable and easygoing. In her view changes were a part of life. Some were good, some bad, and somehow she always managed to shrug off the bad ones. That’s why Fitz’s absence from the Fiesta was irritating rather than disturbing. Meanwhile, though he’d flown to L.A. supposedly on “urgent business,” she suspected that Jenny Haven’s youngest daughter was the true cause. It was most annoying, she thought, turning over on her sun lounger to toast her back. Fitz was too old for that child anyway … and he was just right for her. They understood each other.
The Fiesta was unusually quiet. Most of the others had taken a picnic and gone off for the day in the little fleet of Hobie Cats, tacking around the coast in search of new, unpopulated beaches. Olympe had declined to go with them. She knew they’d probably come back scarred from the lethally sharp sea urchins that clung to the rocks, or burned from too much sun, and she was much too careful of her appearance to risk that. Another five minutes and she’d move into the shade, having achieved her daily permitted quota of fifteen minutes direct sunlight on each side. It was all very restful—and quite boring with no one to tease, no games to play. Olympe closed her eyes and concentrated on the delicious heat of the sun on her back.
Venetia hovered on deck waiting for Paris, but thinking of Fitz. She had read the short letter he’d left for her a hundred times and it still said the same thing, no matter how hard she tried to read between the lines. He was sorry to have upset her, and he apologized too for his anger. He hoped she would try to understand that it had been a difficult situation for all of them. He had been called away on business and didn’t expect to be back to the Fiesta this season. He hoped she would feel able to continue her job there and that she would enjoy the rest of the summer. How could she without him?
There was nothing that implied that he cared for her, no tender regrets, no confessions of secret longings. She remembered laughing ages ago with Kate Lancaster about being the object of a “secret passion”; it had been Morgan they were talking about then, though. How far away it all seemed, and how uncomplicated, when she’d just been playing at being in love. Nobody told you that the real thing hurt! She’d finally made up her mind to return to London in a few weeks and take a job there. She wasn’t cut out for this sort of life; she wanted to immerse herself in hard work, and one day she planned to open her own restaurant.
She wished Paris would get here soon; she needed to talk to someone. If she didn’t she’d go crazy. Venetia paced the deck impatiently, wondering how long it would take to drive from Antibes in the summer traffic. Probably forever. She ran an agitated hand through her shaggy, sun-bleached hair. She must do something, she couldn’t just hang about here, thinking. Because every time she did, the image of Olympe, beautiful and naked in Fitz’s arms, sneaked its way back into her mind, no matter how hard she tried to forget it. And the memory of her own humiliation. She couldn’t blame Fitz for that, it was her own stupid, naive fault. She’d acted like a child, believing he’d be there all alone waiting for her like the last time. Well, she’d never be that foolish again, she was quite sure of that. If only Olympe Avallon would leave, but she had stayed on. In fact she didn’t seem to be the least bit upset by Fitz’s absence; she was having a wonderful time going to all the parties on the other yachts and villas. And she was so bloody beautiful!
Venetia kept