Getting Lost Page 14

  “You did last night!”

  “Very funny. And that was this morning, and it wasn’t all that cheap. But it won’t happen again until I can give as good as I get.”

  Phoebe playfully pushed Stella off the sofa and sat astride her. “Don’t for one second think you can give as good as me.”

  “And don’t you, for one second, think you’re giving me anything more than some sexy snuggling and kisses tonight.”

  Phoebe’s expression turned serious. “Thank you.”

  Stella stared deep into the eyes that, for the first perceptible time, portrayed a glimmer of true feeling. If eyes were the window to the soul, Phoebe Lancaster’s damaged soul was buried deep beneath pain and sorrow. “Kiss me, please.”

  *

  The insistent light of dawn began to slowly brighten the bedroom. Naked, Stella lay cradled against Phoebe’s body, and she felt the arms enveloping her twitch and stir. Last night had been deep and sensual, but there had been no orgasm or penetration. They had talked, touched, and explored each other mentally and physically. It had been so intense, Stella had never quite found the best time to ask Phoebe why Simon wasn’t in jail for Rebecca’s murder. But now she realised a window of opportunity was available before work consumed her and she must again dedicate her attention to a coach load of tourists, not solely the incredibly gorgeous client snuggled behind her.

  “Phoebe? Are you awake?” she whispered.

  “What if I said no?” mumbled Phoebe.

  Stella inhaled deeply. “Why didn’t you tell the police Simon killed Rebecca?”

  Stella felt Phoebe stiffen but was relieved when the taut muscles relaxed back into her.

  Phoebe cleared her throat. “We were both there, it was his word against mine, and we bargained on each other’s silence. It was his bright idea to suggest there had been an intruder. It was a hot day, the doors to the pool and deck area would have been wide open so there was no need to assume there was a forced entry.”

  “How did you convince the police that an intruder killed her while you were both in the house? Come to think of it, why were you both in the house? I mean, why was Simon there?”

  “Both Rebecca and Simon worked for Oscar. Their business dealings rarely crossed paths, but Rebecca had found a string of dodgy transactions.”

  “Simon was cooking the books?”

  “Not exactly. He had made a mistake and was trying to fix it. It required some creative accounting and Rebecca called him on it. He said they argued about it, he lost his temper, and threatened her with a knife. He said she went for him, and in the tangled mess, she was stabbed.”

  “An accident? Do you believe that?”

  “I don’t know what I believe anymore. She died and he held the knife.”

  One question played on Stella’s mind. “Where were you when it happened?”

  Phoebe stared at Stella with pleading eyes. “Please, I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She began to cry. “I didn’t protect her and I should have. I wake every morning and relive that day. It never goes away.”

  “But you couldn’t be by her side all the time, Phoebe. It’s not your fault.”

  Phoebe wiped her eyes. “We were grilled for days by the police, but we both stuck to the intruder story. I was sure he was going to drop me in it. The police tried everything in the book to trick me, but I had a story and I told it. After all, I was pregnant. It’s amazing what can motivate you to repeat the same story over and over again. In the end, without a motive, the police couldn’t put forward enough evidence to form a solid case to take to the prosecutor. Alone or together there was just no proof. We heard nothing, we saw nothing, and we only discovered Rebecca’s body after she went to fetch a drink and some food and didn’t return.”

  “But surely they could have prosecuted you both. I mean I’m glad they didn’t, but it just looks like you both conspired to kill her and were covering it up.” The moment Stella said the words, she knew the answer. “Oscar.”

  Phoebe nodded. “He’s not powerful enough to ensure a conviction in court. When it gets to that stage he has no control. Even Oscar Dean can’t threaten an entire jury. But he had some connections in the police and within the Department of Public Prosecutions.”

  “That’s when you gave him Sebastian?”

  “Yes. I signed Sebastian over to him and he did whatever he had to do to squash the police investigation.”

  “An heir is more important than you going to jail, right?”

  “Correct. To this day, I’ve no doubt he thinks I really did kill Rebecca, but our son was more important to him than my punishment.” Phoebe looked exhausted. “I’ve never talked about it like this to anyone before.”

  Stella cradled her head against her chest. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Day twelve, Rome to Corfu, was really a travelling day, the highlight being a trip to Pompeii. Only a handful of people fully understood the magnitude and devastation that the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius caused back in 79AD. Although Naples itself was nothing to write home about, only slightly interesting because of its colourful Mafia history, Stella never tired of discussing the fate of Pompeii with those few who were interested enough to listen carefully to the guide.

  The long drive to the port of Brindisi was the perfect remedy after a big night out, and although Russo knew Stella’s mind was elsewhere, he insisted on chatting endlessly, to the point where Stella was convinced he was making stuff up to keep her from snoozing.

  On only one other occasion was the ferry ride from Brindisi to Corfu rough. It was now two occasions. After dinner, Stella played cards with some of the group, but retired early to find Phoebe already tucked up in bed reading.

  “Is it just me, or is the boat rocking more?” asked Phoebe.

  Stella laughed. “This ferry is no more a boat than our coach is a bus, my dear.”

  Phoebe patted the bed next to her. “Can you please hurry up and get in here? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.”

  Stella stripped and headed for the shower. “If you weren’t so antisocial,” she called through the running water, “you could have joined us for cards and spent hours in my company.”

  Phoebe appeared in the doorway. “Now, tell me the truth. If you had the opportunity to avoid cards, you would have, right?”

  “You’ve got me there.” Stella winked. “Care to join me?”

  “I’ve not long had a shower, thank you anyway. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay and chat.”

  “You mean stay and watch?”

  Phoebe sat on the closed toilet seat, resting her chin in her hand, staring. “That too.”

  The conversation flowed easily before Stella finally shut off the water. “Can you pass me a towel, please?”

  Phoebe reached above the vanity and selected a towel, holding it outstretched for Stella to step in to. “You really are stunning.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not as generous with my nakedness as you are.” Phoebe blushed.

  “Or perhaps you’re sorry you’re not an exhibitionist like me?”

  “You’re comfortable with your body. Your confidence is an attractive quality.”

  Stella dropped the towel and stood before Phoebe. “And one day, you’ll be comfortable with both our bodies.”

  Phoebe closed the distance between them. “I’d like to start acquainting myself with your body right now if you have no objections?” Her hand lightly touched Stella’s cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of Stella’s mouth.

  Stella nodded feebly.

  “Come to bed with me?”

  “An offer I can’t refuse.”

  Phoebe slid into bed, pulling Stella into a straddling position over her hips.

  In the moments it took to move from the bathroom to the bedroom, Stella was already wet. “I should have finished cards earlier.” She writhed as Phoebe touched her, but made no attempt to reciprocate the gesture.
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br />   Phoebe’s eyes moved from Stella’s breasts to between her legs. “I wanted to message you to return sooner, but I couldn’t make any promises about what we would do when you arrived. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

  Stella leaned down to slowly kiss Phoebe, her naked hips grinding in a circular motion on Phoebe, nothing but thin fabric between them. “You’re safe with me. I haven’t forgotten our boundaries.”

  Stella sensed an increasing desire within Phoebe as their hips began moving in time. Their kiss became so intense, Stella suppressed the urge to force Phoebe’s fingers inside her. Phoebe grasped Stella’s hips, encouraging the movement.

  “You’re delicious, Stella.” Phoebe moved to kiss Stella’s nipples.

  Stella hesitated.

  “Please, surely that comes under the category of heavy petting?” said Phoebe.

  “You’re impossible and hopeless at boundaries.”

  One by one, Phoebe took Stella’s nipples in her mouth, paying close attention to not only the nipple, but also to the sensitive tissue surrounding them. It wasn’t long before Phoebe’s hands began exploring further, and Stella realised she was holding Phoebe’s head to her. The next sensation Stella experienced sent waves of electrifying pleasure pulsing through her body. Phoebe’s fingers were softly caressing Stella’s clitoris.

  “Phoebe, baby? What about the boundaries?” she panted through moans of increasing ecstasy.

  “Can you come this way?”

  “What?”

  “I’m not inside you. I’m so sorry. I’m not ready for that. But I really want to make you come.”

  Stella’s orgasm was building.

  “Don’t make me stop.” Phoebe closed her eyes.

  “I won’t. Please, if you’re ready for this, just do it.”

  Phoebe increased the pressure and speed.

  Stella straightened and braced herself against the wall. She rode Phoebe’s hand harder and faster, no longer craving penetration, just release.

  “Come for me, baby. Let it go, now.”

  Stella pushed down harder, tipping herself into that amazing world of oblivion. As the orgasm ripped through her, she flopped on top of Phoebe, panting and allowing the delightful convulsions to fill her with warmth before eventually subsiding. “That was amazing.”

  Phoebe smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

  Stella cupped Phoebe’s face. “Would you tell me if there was anything I could do for you?” Stella hesitated. “I know you don’t like the idea of taking turns, but I just wanted to ask.”

  Phoebe pulled the covers over them both. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but just now you gave me exactly what I wanted.”

  Stella snuggled close, her right leg draped over Phoebe, her right arm under Phoebe’s top, resting on her stomach, and her face buried into her neck. The ferry rocked from side to side, but Stella didn’t care.

  At nearly two a.m., as they evidently reached the midpoint of the journey, and the middle of the Adriatic Sea, the movement of the ferry began to resemble a washing machine. Within twenty minutes, a booming announcement crackled through the public address system. It was expected that the rough going would last for at least another two hours and all access to external decks had been restricted. The message briefly addressed some simple safety advice, but the upshot of it was to remain in your cabin, preferably in bed.

  Dozing lightly, Stella and Phoebe silently lay in each other’s arms, riding out the storm.

  *

  It was difficult to believe, when gazing out over the idyllic calm water as the ferry began docking in Corfu, that the sea had been so unfriendly earlier that morning. Corfu was bathed in bright sunshine, and the mere sight of it filled Stella with delight.

  First stop upon disembarking was the hotel. It was certainly a treat—the rooms were lavish, the dining area had wonderful views, and the pool area, including the cocktail bar, shone like a beacon for every guest. As predicted, there were the usual hiccups when checking in, but overall, the process was uneventful. This first day gave the group time to explore and relax. Tomorrow, things heated up with planned activities.

  Stella’s room was always an upgrade. They looked after tour managers well in Corfu, but upon entering she noticed Phoebe was yet to arrive. Come to think of it, she didn’t recall handing her a swipe card during the check-in process, and thinking back, she couldn’t place Phoebe since disembarking the ferry.

  She dialled Russo’s number. “Hey, did you see Phoebe earlier this morning?”

  “Nope. Why?”

  “She’s not in my room.”

  “Wow, you two sure do like to keep track of each other.”

  “You’re not amusing, Russo.”

  “Is her luggage there? Maybe she’s gone out exploring?”

  Stella had already checked, but she found herself looking again. “Nope, no luggage.”

  “Did you do the head count?”

  Stella had forgotten about that. “Yes. I counted exactly fifty.”

  “So she must be here somewhere.” Russo’s tone sharpened. “I’m sure if you’d come up with forty-nine and the missing party was Phoebe, I’d have heard about it.”

  “Okay, quit with the attitude.”

  Russo sighed. “Just call her.” He hung up.

  Of course Stella had thought of this, and of course Stella had already tried Phoebe’s number countless times. Each time, she heard Phoebe’s request to leave a message.

  The first day in Corfu, although relaxing, still left Stella with some organising to do. Water sports dominated the following day, and after reconfirming arrangements, she scanned through the participation list. Phoebe’s name wasn’t on it. A chill rippled through her. Phoebe hadn’t checked in, nor had she booked activities for the following day, nor, upon further investigation, had she booked a seat at the famous Greek feast on the final evening of their stay. Alarm bells rang, but what was she to do? On the first day of the tour, she openly encouraged her group to get lost, but after what she and Phoebe had been sharing, the intimate moments as well as the ordinary moments, Stella couldn’t believe for one second that Phoebe had simply gone off to do her own thing. If Phoebe hadn’t shown up by dinnertime, she would alert the authorities and register her as missing.

  After a final double-check, ensuring absolutely everything was booked, confirmed, and reconfirmed, Stella changed into her black bikini and slipped on a stylish black tank top. Although she looked the part, the last thing she wanted to do was mingle and act chirpy with the group. Almost everyone from the tour was gathered by the pool, and she copped a multitude of wolf whistles as she discarded the tank and dived into the glistening blue water. Sitting on the edge and baking red raw in the sun was not her thing, nor was covering up her body. Her scant bikini barely covered her, but this was Greece, and she found her adventurous approach always encouraged others to forget their insecurities and simply enjoy the moment. As expected, within minutes of her diving into the near empty pool, the number of swimmers swelled. Within no time at all, her group occupied the entire pool with beach balls, volleyballs, and tennis balls flying everywhere.

  “Hey, Stella?” She turned, dodging a tennis ball. It was Megan. “Where was Phoebe off to this morning?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Wasn’t that her climbing into a taxi down at the dock?”

  Stella motioned for Megan to follow her into the cocktail bar. “Was it definitely Phoebe?”

  “I’m one hundred percent sure.” Then she added, “Plus, I’d recognise her expensive luggage anywhere. The old bloke driving the cab struggled to haul it in the boot.”

  “What colour cab was it?”

  “Yellow. Bright yellow.”

  Stella had a lead she felt compelled to act upon. “Can you excuse me, Megan? I seem to have left my phone in the room.”

  Stella hurried to reception. “Hi, Sophia.” Sophia was almost one hundred years old, but was always good to Stella. “What’s the name of the cab company that has br
ight yellow taxis?”

  “Yellow Taxis.” Sophia smiled.

  “Yes, the bright yellow ones.”

  “That is what they are called, Stella. Yellow Taxis.”

  “Oh, makes sense. Do you have a number for them?”

  In the privacy of her room, Stella phoned the taxi company. Realising they had no obligation to help her, she put on her most professional tour manager tone, although it did little to hide the worry in her voice. After being handed to several different people, each with varying degrees of English, Stella finally spoke to a young lady who advised her that Spiro, their most experienced and honest driver, picked up a young lady and delivered her to Corfu Kapodistrias Airport. She advised Stella, more than once, that Spiro would have charged the correct fare. Stella thanked her for the information and hung up.

  A taxi to the airport didn’t appear to be the action of someone working on impulse. She phoned the airport. A flight had departed that morning for Athens at ten thirty. It would be fruitless to try to find out if Phoebe had been a passenger. In her heart, she knew Phoebe had been on that plane. Disappointment gripped her. What the hell is going on?

  The afternoon dragged, and Stella struggled to concentrate on anything or enjoy herself. She just hoped Phoebe knew what she was doing. Still, the fact that Phoebe hadn’t found the courage to confide in her stung.

  At dinner, Stella announced the resort was hosting a poolside cocktail party exclusively for the group. The catch was everyone had to gather into groups and prepare a scene from their favourite movie. The incentive—cheap prizes and free cocktails.

  Stella constantly switched from being worried about Phoebe, to being annoyed with her. Predominantly, she hoped she was safe. She missed her beyond what she imagined was possible so early in a relationship. She also wasn’t even sure if what they shared was a relationship. Whatever it was, she wasn’t ready to let it go.

  Russo noticed she was struggling and was helping organise activities. At one point, he rested his hand on her arm and smiled uneasily. She knew it was his unspoken way of reassurance, but nothing could ease the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. Why couldn’t Phoebe simply call?