Wedding Night

sister, she is beside herself with rage.”
    “I know.” I wince. “Nico, I’m so sorry. But I’ll be expressing my gratitude with a very big feature about you in the magazine. Very big. Very flattering. A double-page spread.” I’ll write it myself, I vow. Not one critical word. “There’s just one more
tiny
thing you could help us with—”
    “Help you?” His voice rises indignantly. “
Help you?
I have the gala ceremony to prepare for! I am late already. Fliss, I have to go. Please do not create any more chaos in my hotel.”
    Bristling all over, he marches away, and Lorcan raises his eyebrows at me.
    “You’ve made a friend there.”
    “He’ll be all right. I’ll sweeten him up with a glowing review.” I’m looking frantically around the lobby, trying to remember it. “OK, I think the Oyster Suite is on the top floor. And the lifts are this way. Come on!”
    As we’re traveling up in the lift, Lorcan tries Ben’s phone yet again.
    “He
knew
I was coming,” he mutters ominously. “He should have been ready to sign. This is
so
unhelpful.”
    “We’ll be there in a minute!” I retort irritably. “Stop stressing.”
    As we arrive at the top floor, I hare out of the lift, dragging Noah by the hand and not stopping to check any signs. I head to the door at the end of the corridor and bang on it as hard as I can.
    “Lottie! It’s me!” I notice a tiny doorbell and ring that too, for good measure. “Come out! Please! I want to apologize! I’m so sorry! I’M SO SORRY!” I thump on the door again, and Noah, delighted, joins in.
    “Come out!” he yells, banging on the door. “Come out! Come out!”
    Suddenly the door is flung open and a strange man wrapped in a towel stares at me.
    “Yes?” he says bad-temperedly.
    I stare back, disconcerted. This doesn’t look like the photo I saw of Ben. Nothing like.
    “Er … Ben?” I try anyway.
    “No,” he says flatly.
    My mind is racing. She’s in an open marriage. Does that mean— Oh my God. Are they having a
threesome
?
    “Are you with … Ben and Lottie?” I say cautiously.
    “No, I’m with my wife.” He glowers at me. “Who are you?”
    “This
is
the Oyster Suite?”
    “No, the Pearl Suite.” He points to a discreet sign by the door, which I totally missed.
    “Ah. Right. Sorry.” I back away.
    “I thought you knew this place,” says Lorcan.
    “I did. I do. I was sure—” I break off as something catches my eye through a nearby window. It’s a narrow window with a view of the sea, and I can just glimpse a jetty decorated with flowers. Standing in the middle of the jetty is a couple that looks very familiar—
    “Oh my God, it’s them! They’re renewing their vows! Quick!”
    I grab Noah again and all three of us hurry back along the corridor. The lift is unbearably slow but, even so, we’re soon outside, running over lawns and down paths, toward the sea. The jetty is ahead, decorated with flowers and balloons, and in the center, there they are, the happy couple, holding hands.
    “Swimming!” shouts Noah joyously.
    “Not yet,” I pant. “We need to—” I break off, peering again at the couple on the jetty. They’re facing away from us, but I’m sure it’s Lottie. I
think
it’s Lottie. Except …
    Hang on. I rub my eyes, trying to focus more clearly. I need my lenses checked.
    “Is it them?” demands Lorcan.
    “I don’t know,” I confess. “If they’d just turn round …”
    “That’s not Aunt Lottie!” says Noah scornfully. “That’s a different lady.”
    “Doesn’t really look like Ben,” confirms Lorcan, squinting at the guy. “Too tall.”
    At that moment, the girl turns her head and I realize she looks nothing like Lottie.
    “Oh
God
.” I sink down onto a nearby sun bed. “It’s not them. I can’t run around anymore. Can’t we have a drink?” I turn to Lorcan. “You must have missed your deadline by now. Get it done in the morning. Have a drink. Lorcan? What’s wrong?”
    I blink at him in surprise. His face is suddenly like stone. He’s staring at something beyond my shoulder, and I swivel to see what he’s looking at. It’s a normal luxury-hotel beach, with sun beds, and waves crashing onto the sand, and swimmers in the sea, and, beyond, a few sailing boats and, way beyond that, a big yacht moored in deep water. That’s what he’s staring at, I realize.
    “That’s Zhernakov’s yacht,” he says steadily. “What’s it doing here?”
    “Oh!” I gasp as I