Natalia caught sight of her reflection in one of the shiny glass doors leading out from her bedroom. With her white-blonde hair tied back loosely, her skin nearly baby-soft, wiped clean of make-up with Eve Lom cleanser, she looked much younger than she normally did, with the tight ponytail and diamonds. Comfortable in her pistachio-green silk chiffon French knickers and camisole, she stretched her legs out on the marble-topped table, admiring their length.

Natalia was almost entirely without vanity. Her body had served its purpose and she regarded it with fond objectivity. Without it, none of this would have been possible. Even though they were no longer necessary, old habits died hard, and she was scrupulous in her body’s maintenance, even enduring painful Brazilian waxes when she couldn’t remember the last time anybody had seen her влагалище. For Natalia, love, or even sex for pleasure, was not an option. She had a vibrator to cater for such needs and had never had any reason to view men with anything but fear, suspicion, and a very canny eye for the main chance.

Thinking again about the old days, she rang the bell and asked for a croissant. What the hell. Wheat intolerances be damned – she could afford to indulge herself once in a while. She looked out at the wonderful view. Several yachts were floating on the deep-blue sea, their sails whiter than white against the horizon. Maybe she should buy a yacht? They were very expensive, of course, but her finances were in pretty good order now. She threw back her head and laughed with sheer joy. Not only had she escaped, but now she had this!

‘Señora?’

Natalia turned around to accept her breakfast platter.

The dark-eyed waiter grinned, exposing three gold teeth, and suddenly she knew that this happiness was not here to stay.

‘Georgiou? Is it really you? What you want? You want money? I haf plenty money,’ she said in slightly broken English – it happened when she was thrown off kilter, which wasn’t often these days.

‘I know,’ he said in Russian.

Trying to stay cool, Natalia walked slowly inside to find her Chanel handbag, where she always kept 2,000 US dollars, in case of emergencies. This was one emergency that, after the initial years, she had prayed would never occur. As she took the notes out, several fluttered from her trembling hands. The dark-eyed waiter watched as she bent to retrieve them. She knew he was loving every minute of her cowed subservience.

‘Please, take them, Georgie, and never come back.’

He smiled again. Never had gold teeth looked so repulsive.

‘Talia, I thank you. But I’ll be back.’

Chapter 3

Ben Jones walked naked to his large American fridge and cracked open a Bud. It tasted like piss, but he was prepared to put up with weak beer when he considered the compensations.

He’d just been for a run along the beach at Malibu Colony. He’d been in LA for two months now and still couldn’t get over the babes and endless sunshine. Today (like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that) would have been the best day of summer back home; any one of the girls he’d met during his run would have been the best-looking babe in London. Wales wasn’t comparable, on either count.