Revelations: The Black Chalice (Revelations Series Book 1) Read online

  I didn’t know what surprised me more—that this was something that Martin had to deal with often or hearing Martin calling a guest a rich fuckhead. He lived and breathed his role of genteel host. “I’m getting less and less envious of your paycheck, boss,” I mumbled.

  But Martin brightened. “It’s not that bad. I’m proud of my staff, and I’ll do anything to look after you guys.” He smiled widely. “And it’s not very often I have to use the HIV excuse. Most of the time, the Sheik will do it.”

  That reminded me of why he’d called me here in the first place. “So, you were saying, a guest asked about me? And you gave him the Sheik, and it didn’t work?”

  “Like I said, I remembered our conversation. I gave him the Sheik excuse, and he just laughed. So I gave him the HIV excuse, but he ruffled my hair and told me I was a good man for lying for you.”

  My eyes widened. “Wow. You failed big-time.”

  Martin had the good grace to laugh. “I’m not worried, Eve. He didn’t seem like he was interested in you just for sex. He was just.. interested. So I thought it was worth letting you know.”

  “Hmmm.” It didn’t change anything, though. “Well, thanks for telling me. I’m still not interested in anyone, just so you know.” I smiled at him. “I guess it must make a change from having to run interference for Clover all the time,” I mused.

  “What do you mean? I barely have to run anything for Clover. If she’s up for it, she’ll usually let the guest know before I have the chance to run anything.”

  I squinted at him. “So who are you having to use all your excuses for?”

  Martin stared at me like I was an idiot.

  “Umm, you, Eve.”

  “What?”

  “You. Clover takes care of herself. Dale too. All the other night staff are either quick on the uptake or too generic to catch a guest’s interest for very long.”

  “This… guy, this guest who asked about me…” I cocked my head to the side. “He’s not the first to show any interest?”

  “Oh, hell no,” Martin said, shaking his head. “I don’t think a week will go by without someone asking me if you have a boyfriend, or if you’re allowed to date the guests.”

  “Huh.” I was stunned. My gaze drifted to the window, where a tinge of pink was lightening the sky. I was suddenly very, very tired.

  But Martin wasn’t done yet. “Eve… do you really not know what you look like?”

  I glanced up and met Martin’s eyes. He looked concerned.

  “No.” I said shortly. “Martin, I’m not sure I want to talk about this.”

  He sighed. “I understand. But you can’t be shocked that you get a lot of interest.”

  “It’s not shocking,” I said flatly. “It’s frightening.”

  Martin looked sad. “I’m sorry, Eve. I didn’t want to scare you. I guess I just wanted to let you know that a guest had asked about you, and maybe you should try and avoid him. I’ll let you off the desk when he’s around, if you like. He doesn’t seem like too much of a predator.” His frown deepened. “But I guess predators rarely do.”

  “You got that right.” I turned to go. “Goodnight, Martin.”

  “Wait. Do you not want to know who it was?”

  “All men?” I muttered the words under my breath as I walked. I was unsettled and sad. I thought I’d left some of my past behind me when I started here at Revelations. Male attention… it was something I would never crave again. I thought this job had changed me; I thought it had given me confirmation that my life had changed, my early adolescence was over. I was no longer a confused, pubescent girl. And I thought that maybe the confidence this job brought me had sent out a signal to predatory men: That I wasn’t going to be a victim anymore.

  But now I’d found out that the interest never went away. And the only thing that stopped me from being molested on the job was, for the most part, the threat of retaliation from an Arab sheik, or the risk of getting HIV.

  I was almost at the door when Martin’s voice called out to me.

  “It was the arms dealer. Sorensen, his name is. Alex Sorensen.”

  Chapter Five

  I stopped in my tracks and turned back. “The blond guy?”

  Martin nodded. “Not your typical crusty warmonger, is he? The guy looks like he walked off a Calvin Klein underwear shoot.”

  My face hardened. “It doesn’t make a difference to me. Thanks, Martin. I’ll keep my eye out for him.” I turned back to the glass doors and swung them open.

  I trudged along the path that led to the pool outside, keeping my eyes to the ground. I meant it—it didn’t make a difference to me. I must have intrigued Mr. Sorensen with my weirdness, so he was probably just checking to see if I was mentally sound. And I was convinced now that I’d mistaken him for that beautiful, passionate angel in my dream.

  Or, the not-angel. See, he’d even denied it himself. He was definitely not an angel.

  My senses tingled. There were two guests coming toward me on the path. Two men. I recognized the loud voices, both slurring a little. One was a US senator, the other a gun lobbyist. Both had checked in this morning for some sort of secret conference. They were both fine, but Martin’s talk had spooked me. Quickly, I jumped off the path and into the thick bushes.

  I waited behind a fern until they had passed, staying as still as I could. There was little fear that they’d notice me; they were both so drunk they were stumbling a little.

  But just to be sure I wasn’t bothered on my way back to the staff quarters, I decided to follow the little hidden track through the bushes.

  The track was one of the first things they showed us when we started here. The paths were tiny and barely noticeable; we had to duck under palms and skirt around big native trees. And we were instructed to do so quietly and as carefully as possible, as to not disturb the beautiful flora.

  I squeezed myself between crumbling stumps covered in vines, and stooped low underneath huge ferns, until I got to the pool deck.

  I crept closer. I wanted to check if the man who was using his girlfriend as a flotation device was still there. I thought it might cheer me up.

  Staying in the shadows, I silently pushed a branch aside so I could see the whole pool area.

  The bar was right in front of me. The day bartender was busy polishing glasses, getting ready for the morning mimosas and Bloody Marys. There were two shady figures on stools in front of him, guests obviously determined to see out the sunrise while drowning themselves in liquor. Behind them, in the pool, the girlfriend with the enormous breasts was still paddling in the shallow end, but her older boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

  I glanced back toward the bar and took a sharp intake of breath.

  Alex Sorensen was sitting there.

  My eyes adjusted slowly. I couldn’t believe I didn’t notice him straight away. He was so imposing, he dwarfed the man sitting next to him. I squinted a little harder and recognised his drinking buddy, a former Supreme Court judge from the UK. He was hunched over his whiskey, and chuckling to himself. The judge wasn’t a small man, but Alex made him seem tiny.

  While I watched, Alex leaned in close and whispered something in the judge’s ear. There was something suggestive in his posture and in the way he nodded his head in the direction of the pool. The judge turned his head to look toward the pool and leered for a moment at the woman who idly floated in the shallows, her boobs pointed skyward. He turned back and said something to Alex, who laughed.

  I wished I could hear what he was saying. They looked like they were good buddies, but as far as I knew, they weren’t connected in any way. The judge had been here on a reunion trip with some old frat buddies. He was due to leave Revelations tomorrow morning.

  I had no idea why Alex was here.

  Alex took a sip of his drink, spoke again to the judge, and nudged him companionably. The judge guffawed, and standing up, he threw back the rest of his whiskey and slammed his empty glass down on the bar. He clapped his hand on Alex’s s
houlder and spoke loud enough that I could hear: “Wish me luck.” He turned and ambled toward the pool.

  Alex didn’t watch him go, but I did. The judge purposefully straightened up as he walked, lifting his head and straightening his shoulders, trying to appear more sober. He walked to the shallow end, where the woman floated on her back. Once she spotted him coming, she straightened up and smiled at him, and they started chatting. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  They didn’t know each other either; I knew that for a fact. Her boyfriend was probably passed out back at their bungalow. The judge hadn’t brought his wife on this trip.

  What the guests did in the privacy of their own rooms was none of my business. Who was I to say what people could do with their own bodies? They only had their partners to answer to, and their own conscience to deal with. But a distinct feeling of unease spread through me.

  I watched the judge squat down by the pool, hand outstretched so he could help the woman out. She flipped her hair, snapping her bikini bottoms back in place, and took the towel from the judge’s other hand with a flirty smile. Arm in arm, they walked away, following the winding path back to the bungalows. They were soon lost from sight, slipping behind the floodlights at the edge of the pool deck. I was blinded momentarily, and blinked to try and clear my vision.

  If I didn’t know any better, I would have said Alex orchestrated this little cheating episode himself. My eyes, still blurry, sought him out again. At first, I could only see his silhouette.

  When my vision cleared, I realized he was staring right at me.

  Chapter Six

  The memory of his eyes haunted me. They burned through me like lasers, like they could see straight into me, straight through to my soul. They saw parts of me that I didn’t know I had, that I didn’t even know existed. In the clear, burning ice of his iris, I found myself. Who I really was.

  I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memory of what had happened last night, and forced myself to concentrate on my task at hand. I was on my hands and knees, out in the Kangaroo Paw bungalow, trying to prise a huge diamond out from a crack in the floorboards with a pair of tweezers.

  The owner of the diamond—a lovely woman who insisted I called her Marie—was holding a flashlight so I could see better.

  I was having a better night shift than I’d had last night, that was for sure. I had a great day’s sleep, unpunctuated by any dreams at all, let alone visions of any angels or demons. Mr. Sorensen hadn’t made an appearance, and thankfully, I could concentrate on my job.

  The night had gone by, fairly uneventful. I checked guests in, checked guests out, fielded a few phone calls from frantic PAs and the occasional butler and lady-in-waiting, and looked forward to the end of my shift. I was trying hard not to think of those icy-blue eyes.

  I had two days off after tonight. I was headed home, back to Margot. I only had three more hours until the end of my shift, and then Dale, Clover, and I would have an hour and a half in the staff bar before the Revelations courtesy bus would drive me home.

  I didn’t go home every weekend. It was a long drive, and I was happy here at Revelations. There was a lot to do on our down time—the staff quarters had everything we needed, including our own pool, tennis courts, and a fully stocked entertainment room. We were also allowed to use all the guest facilities, as long as there were no guests around.

  And there were the caves, which my heart wanted to explore. But my adrenal system seemed to despise that idea.

  I was actually looking forward to going home for two days. Revelations was a little bubble—it was nice to get out every once in a while and be reminded that the outside world was still there. And I missed Margot. She was the only family I had left. She loved hearing my stories about the rich and crazy people I had to deal with.

  And right now, I was dealing with one of my favorites.

  Marie had come to reception tonight in tears. A beautiful brooch that had been a gift from her great-aunt had lost a clasp, and a diamond had dropped out and disappeared under the bed. She couldn’t see it anywhere. She didn’t want to make a fuss, so I followed her back to the bungalow with some tweezers and a flashlight.

  “You’ve almost got it!” Marie gasped as I wiggled the diamond out from the crack. I managed to get a grip on it, but it slipped and fell back in. “Oh no,” she sighed in her smooth, lilting accent. “That was a good try though,” she said encouragingly.

  I laughed and turned around to look at her sweet face. “Marie, if I can’t get this out, you know I could have the floorboards ripped up in a second’s notice.”

  Her big eyes grew wider. “Oh, of course not,” she whispered. “I would never hear of it. Besides, I know we can get this out. You have the steady hands of a surgeon.”

  “From my early teenage years of playing Operation after a few vinos,” I replied, my voice muffled as I stuck my head back under the bed to have another go.

  I almost had it, but it glinted at me like a rainbow gun, and my hand shook. It jiggled loose again. “You know,” I said conversationally, “we could probably move the bed and get a better angle on this thing.”

  “Oh no,” she said again in a hushed tone. “I don’t want to wake the people in the next room.”

  I smiled to myself. The next room was a bungalow over twenty yards away, and all these rooms were significantly soundproofed.

  And Marie’s full name was Princess Mariana Von Delmanhorst. The great-aunt that gave her that brooch was the queen herself. Marie could probably do any bloody thing she wanted to; instead, she was on her hands and knees, holding a flashlight steady for me.

  I finally got a good grip on the diamond and slowly lifted it out of the crack. As soon as it was clear, I moved my hand under it just in time. It slipped out of the tweezers’ grip and fell into my hand.

  “Got it!”

  Marie gave a squeal of delight. “Oh, well done!”

  I held out my hand and tipped the diamond into Marie’s hand. “There you go. I can put it in the safe if you need me to, until you can get to a jeweler.”

  “No, that’s okay.” She waved me off. “I’ll pop it in with my earrings for now; I’m headed off to Paris tomorrow afternoon anyway. I can get someone to reset it then.” She gave me a warm hug, and I relished it the way I always did when a genuine, loving person hugged me. It was something that I never stopped appreciating—the fact that I could still enjoy human touch.

  There was a soft knock at the door, and Marie unfolded herself from me to go and open it.

  “Good evening, Your Highness.” It was Martin, all suave and smooth as usual. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “Of course not, Martin. And please call me Maz.”

  I stifled a grin. She’d been fascinated with the Australian tendency to shorten all names, and either put an O or a Z on the end. During the course of her stay, she’d gone from Highness, to Mariana, to Marie, and now she was going to try Maz on for size. The way she was going, we’d be calling her Big M before she left.

  Martin, of course, took it all in his stride. “Of course, Maz.” You always called guests what they wanted to be called, no matter how ridiculous it was. “I heard Eve was in here with you, and I need her urgently. Can I borrow her?”

  “Yes, Martin.” Eve nodded her head graciously. “Eve has helped me enormously already—I was just keeping her to thank her.”

  “Thanks, Maz.” I threw her a smile and followed Martin out the door and down the steps to the path. Once we’d disappeared into the thick bush and out of earshot, I turned to Martin. “What’s up, boss? Must be urgent to drag me away from a princess-in-distress.”

  Martin frowned. “It is. The police are here, and they need to speak to you.”

  A shot of ice ran through me. “The p-police? Why?”

  “I don’t know if you heard, Eve, but one of our guests passed away in the early hours of yesterday morning.” Martin increased his walking pace. He walked quickly at the best of times, but now, even th
ough he was still technically walking, his legs were almost a blur. “Heart attack,” he added shortly.

  I was struggling. At the mention of police, my legs had turned to lead, and I was battling to get rid of the Pavlovian response my body had produced.

  I took a huge breath, the way I’d learned, to control the response. One, then another. It calmed me. This has nothing to do with me, I told myself sternly. Just routine. Everything is fine.

  Out loud, I said, “I hadn’t heard. Why are the police involved?”

  “Because the deceased was in perfect health, and his distraught wife in London would like it investigated.” Martin lowered his already-low voice even more. “Apparently, he expired mid-coitus, here, with another woman, and the wife is convinced that foul play was involved. The police are here now, and need to speak to anyone that might have seen anything that would amount to foul play.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I knew who he was talking about.

  The judge. The woman in the pool. And Alex Sorensen, egging the judge on to make a play for her and to cheat on his wife.

  My stomach churned.

  Too soon, we’d reached the heavy glass doors that led to reception. I looked ahead and saw that Dale was manning the desk. He was on a phone call, so he gave me a cheery wave and pointed his thumb toward the darkest corner of reception. Clover stood there, being interviewed by two uniformed police officers.

  “Let’s get this wrapped up quickly, Eve,” Martin murmured into my ear. “I can’t have the police hanging around for too long. It would make the guests uneasy.”

  “Why didn’t you shunt them into an empty room for the interview, then?” I hissed at him.

  “We don’t have any, Eve,” he hissed back. “And I’m not having them strolling through the resort for everyone to gawk at.” He bustled away back behind the reception desk and busied himself at the computer.