Wicked by Sylvia Day

Author:Sylvia Day
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780753533611
Publisher: Ebury Publishing

* * *

When I returned to our apartment shortly afterwards, Kate was sitting on her bed watching a Greek soap opera.

‘This is great,’ she said without looking up. ‘The man with the moustache is married to the blonde who’s pregnant with the other man with the moustache’s baby. And her dad’s just left her mum for another woman who, unbeknown to him, has just been killed in a tragic moped accident. And I got all that without subtitles.’ She shook her head in wonderment. ‘Amazing.’

I laughed. ‘You don’t look so red now. Still itchy?’

She shrugged. ‘A bit.’

I stood at the foot of her bed. ‘It’s boiling today,’ I said, somewhat redundantly.

Kate smiled and nodded. She looked at the book in my hand and pointed to my bookmark. ‘You didn’t get very far. Too busy to read?’

‘What do you mean?’ I carried my damp towel on to the balcony where I concentrated on draping it across the area with far more precision than was necessary.

‘Well…’ Kate stood behind me, hands on hips. ‘There’s always so much to do around the pool, isn’t there?’ she said sweetly. ‘So many new people to meet.’ She stretched luxuriously and smiled, then leaned forwards and rested on the balcony wall. ‘You know, it was so nice out here at lunchtime.’

‘I thought you were staying in all day? Why didn’t you come down to the pool?’

She shook her head. ‘It was shady up here then; lovely and cool. Not nearly as hot as down there. It looked positively scorching from where I was sitting.’ She grinned mischievously and tilted her head slightly, a signal for me to take in the view.

I went to stand beside her and stared speechless at the sight before me.

‘The pool, the bar…what a fantastic vantage point we have from here,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know we overlooked all that, did you?’

‘No.’ My voice caught in my throat as I continued to stare at the bar area.

‘Tell you what,’ she said brightly, ‘I’ll get us some wine from the fridge and then you can tell me all about it.’

Kate and I talked into the early hours and drank three bottles of wine between us before we finally drifted into sleep. She quizzed me about Speedo-man, demanding every last detail. But although she was fascinated and shrieked with delight at my lurid confessions, I couldn’t help but remember her disapproving words of a few days before. She, like my other friends, teased me about my sexual voracity and expressed concerns, yet was also keen to hear about my encounters. They seemed to take a vicarious pleasure in my sinful tales, as though it made their own safe lives in their safe relationships suddenly wild and exotic. I took their jibes with good humour but wished they could accept my choices without fuss. So, I refused to be brainwashed into searching for my Mr Darcy. So what? What was I missing out on? Monotonous weekends of takeaways, Football Focus and the missionary position?

I wanted passion.

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