Sin Tropez by Aita Ighodaro Read Free Book Online

perky chests as they giggled. Anna and Julia might have been right when they’d huffed that
seventeen was an optimistic estimate and that these girls could well be minors, mused Abena. Poor things, they seemed so young and out of their depth. ‘Hi girls’ Reza kept saying, to
increasingly uneasy laughter.
    ‘OK, listen up please everyone,’ Henry called out. ‘We’re going to get you all in cars and after everybody has had a chance to settle in and freshen up we meet for dinner
at Villa Romana, where we’ll link up with Eric and his lot, and some more very lovely ladies who we’ve flown out on commercial flights. Poooohee !’ He held his nose.
    ‘Get on with it you miserable little fairy, I’ve got a conference call in ten minutes,’ snapped Reza.
    ‘ And then after that I’ve organized the best table, a king-sized table, a Reza -sized table, in the VIP section at Les Caves. Yeah, yeah, yeah!’
    Piers ushered the girls to the first waiting car and, beating the driver to it, held open the door for them. Abena noticed how much he resembled her old tutor at Oxford. ‘He’s got
something of Professor Hughes about him hasn’t he? A masterful quality …’
    ‘Only you ’d be able to see the good in that navel-gazing bore. I think my tutor was a eunuch,’ laughed Tara.
    ‘I just like men who I can learn from,’ Abena protested.
    Piers climbed into the passenger seat, a dimple forming in his cheek as he asked what outfits he would be dazzled with later. ‘You girls had better start getting ready right away –
it’s almost five o’clock,’ he teased. Although Piers was joking, the girls were already planning what to wear as they were driven towards Reza’s villa in the uplifting sun,
fully aware that London rules don’t apply in St Tropez. Here, it was all-out glamour and sex-appeal. The adjectives ‘tasteful’ and ‘understated’ were obsolete in this
part of the world and the girls knew that this was as much the resort’s triumph as its failing. As they were transported past picturesque pastel-hued cottages and café-lined cobbled
squares they felt nothing but love for the place.
    The tall gates to Reza’s villa were flanked by dense rows of palm trees. They opened to reveal a magnificent example of cutting-edge architecture set back in the gravelly grounds. The
asymmetric front wall was painted a bold red and slanted dramatically from a single storey on the north side to three storeys on the south. It was breathtakingly audacious.
    ‘Look at those windows!’ Abena exclaimed, astounded by the glass shapes embedded into the wall. There were stars, moons and circles big enough to let in tons of light, but nothing
resembling a standard rectangle.
    An assortment of uniformed staff emerged and lined up on the front steps as the car approached. As soon as the driver braked they burst into a flurry of activity, unloading baggage and helping
the girls and Piers out of the vehicle. A maid attempted to show Abena and Tara to their rooms but they sped past her in their haste to explore the villa, taking in the surprisingly minimal,
spotless white spaces.
    The sun went down but the evening remained warm and inviting. A butler brought a silver tray of Mojitos up to Abena’s room, where the girls were getting ready together,
and then, before they knew it, it was time for their driver to take them to dinner.
    The Italian restaurant was furnished sumptuously, unapologetically overdone with gold-leaf furniture and mythical oil paintings adorning its walls. It hummed with the loud buzz of excited and
exciting people. As the large group began congregating at the long corner table that overlooked the entire room, heads turned to stare at the unfolding spectacle.
    Abena and Tara were the first of the girls to arrive, both clad in figure-hugging mini-dresses. Abena shimmered in a navy-blue skin-tight Roberto Cavalli number embellished with sequins that
came right up to the neck at the front but was