After the Honeymoon Read Free Page A

panic wrapped itself round her chest. She’d never left Willow and Gawain before. How could she do so now? ‘Your mum will cope,’ said Bernie as if reading her mind. ‘It will do you and Tom good to go away together. He said you’ve never once had a break without the children.’
    True. But that was because she’d become as dependent on them as they had on her.
    ‘Honeymoons are so expensive,’ she blurted.
    Bernie looked smug. ‘That’s the beauty of it. The villa belongs to a friend of Gemma Balls who lives in Greece. The school secretary gave me the number.’ She glanced at the picture. ‘Posh, isn’t it?’
    Her eyes sparkled as though she was going herself. ‘You’re going to love it, Em! You’ve got your own cottage that’s in the grounds, and in the evening, the owner cooks a meal on this gorgeous terrace overlooking olive trees so everyone can eat together if they want.’ She gave Emma a knowing wink. ‘Or they can have a bit of privacy, if you get what I mean.’
    There was a silence during which Emma tried to think of the right words. Greece? Abroad? She’d never flown before: when she and Tom had gone to Paris, it had been on Eurostar. ‘Aren’t you pleased?’ asked one of the other meal assistants sharply.
    Swiftly she tried to gather herself. They’d all saved up for this. Gone without. Just for her. It was incredibly kind of them.
    ‘I’m stunned.’ Quickly she hugged Bernie and then the other two. ‘It’s an
amazing
present. Thank you
so
much.’

TV FITNESS STAR SET TO MARRY DIVORCED MOTHER OF TWO IN WHIRLWIND ROMANCE!
Charisma
magazine exclusive

Chapter Two
    WINSTON
    Everything was planned, his assistant Poppy had assured him. Yes. Privacy was top priority. Details had already been ‘leaked’ to the press about the wedding taking place in Antigua or the Maldives, depending on which gossip column you read. Photographers were, even as they spoke, frantically booking rooms at local hotels in a bid to get the best spot.
    But only five people in the world knew where Winston and Melissa were
really
going. He and his bride; Poppy (who had arranged the decoys plus the real booking); his agent; and Melissa’s ex, Marvyn damn him. In case of emergency, since he was looking after the kids.
    ‘Just one thing,’ Poppy added, one of her immaculately manicured fingers poised over her iPad. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to do an exclusive with the
Globe
? It’s a very good deal and I’ve got a contact there who’s promised copy approval, even though it’s not officially allowed. So if there’s anything you don’t like, you can take it out before they go to press.’
    Winston King drew himself up to his full six foot seven inches and gave his assistant the look he reserved for anyone who had stepped seriously out of line. It was a stance he had mastered in the Royal Marines, where it had been drummed into them that it wasn’t just physique that you needed for the job. It was attitude too. And intelligence.
    ‘I’ve told you,’ he said, in a voice which journalists had described as a Russell Crowe growl or a James Bond seductive whisper, depending on his mood. ‘Melissa and I want complete and utter privacy. Especially on our honeymoon. We don’t want to end up on a front cover.’
    ‘Sure. Simply checking.’ She gave a patronising shrug. ‘And by the way, they call it a mini-moon if it’s less than a fortnight. At least, that’s what
Charisma
magazine says.’
    Poppy gave another glance at the iPad. ‘Mini-moons are either for people who can’t afford a longer one or for really busy couples.’
    Was that so? Still, a week was enough, wasn’t it? Melissa didn’t want to leave the kids for longer and he had his programme to get back to. Besides, it was all arranged, and when Winston made up his mind to do something, he never backtracked. It was part of his make-up; a birthright passed on by his haughty West Indian grandmother, who had insisted that nothing was out of