After relocating to the French Riviera, aspiring writer Edward Mason becomes enthralled by the enigmatic Doctor Cullen and his ever glamorous and charming wife. Spellbound, he seeks to write about them however as he becomes increasingly involved in the couple's extravagant life and circle of friends he learns that they harbour dark secrets and a surprising past.
Prologue
The match snapped, then sizzled, and Edward woke fast. He heard the woman inhale as she took a long pull on her cigarette. Her lips clung to the filter, so he knew she was still wearing lipstick. She'd been up all night.
She sat in the armchair next to his bed, Edward kept sleep breathing. He risked a look under his eyelashes.
She was still wearing her red gown, ankles crossed, head flung back. One arm in the air, elbow bent, cigarette glowing in her fingertips. Diamond jewellery glistened in the darkness. Syrupy waves tumbled past her shoulders.
He wanted to offer her comfort, to string together wise words just so he could hear her elegant laughter one more time. But he knew nothing would work, he wasn't the one that she wanted. Besides, all that was on his mind was Isabella and the suspense was killing him.
He didn't move, but could tell she knew he was awake. He kept on sleep breathing, she kept on pretending not to notice.
They lay like this for hours, until the seagulls began to cry, sadder than a funeral. Carlisle would send a car for them in the morning, if he was still alive.
June 1926
The atmosphere of Cannes was everything Edward Mason had hoped it would be. Soft and hazy. The sea glittered with the intensity of a diamond and, as he left harbour he felt a rush of happiness and excitement. This would be the perfect place for him to write his novel.
Chicago was tired, the people were predictable and, as a general rule, boring. They were awfully bland compared to the carnival of excitement before his eyes. The world's upper-class had created a renowned atmosphere of glitz and glamour in Cannes and it was easily the most fashionable city in Europe. The banking career Chicago and his father offered him seemed dismal, Edward was certain he was destined for better things.
Smoking his cigarette Edward smiled boyishly at every gorgeous woman he passed on his route to the hotel, basking in a new found confidence his travels had given him. Here he was able to reinvent himself. He imagined what people would be saying as he walked past, 'Look! That's Edward Mason, the writer.'
A large, proud rose coloured hotel soon stood before him. The hotel was nestled happily amongst the shade of palm trees and faced a long stretch of the Riviera's famous shoreline.
'The finest establishment in Cannes!' A friend of his father's had boasted, and Lord behold he had been right. The lavish building before him was the epitome of class and glamour. Edward's greedy eyes drank up the sight and right on queue none other than Rosalie Hale the movie star was escorted from her cadillac and into the hotel before him.
Settling into his temporary 'hotel room' home would be an easy task, Edward had brought very little belongings with him on his trip, on the premise that he could simply buy himself suitable attire whilst there. Attire that would be suitable to impress French socialites.
Besides, his typewriter was all he needed.
...
In the centre of the cool hotel lobby was easily the most eccentric couple Edward had ever seen. The young woman's slender body was adorned in slinky black fabric, the dress barely reached her knees, and a hat flopped over her angled face. He thought she resembled a fairy. Her partner was just as finely dressed, though his face was hidden as the young women roughly kissed him. Edward was transfixed - nobody would dare make such a public display of affection back home.
'Well, hi there stranger,' the woman giggled shyly, 'you look a little lost.'
Edward covered his mouth, attempting to disguise his blush. 'Gosh, no. I'm sorry, I'm just exploring.'
The man looked him up and down, 'New here?'
Nodding sheepishly Edward stepped forward, 'Yes, actually. I've recently relocated here from Chicago. I'm staying at the hotel until I can find somewhere more permanent.' A white lie. 'I'm Edward Mason.'
'Jasper. Whitlock.' Shaking his hand, the man visibly relaxed slightly, 'It's a pleasure. This is my wife, Alice.'
'You're here all alone?' His wife cooed, 'You must come along to rooftop drinks soon, you're a handsome young man, I'm sure our friends would love to meet you, especially Rosalie,' she smirked.
Feeling almost as awkward as he felt awestruck he kissed Alice's hand. "Rosalie ..Hale?'
'Of course!' She took a lit cigarette from her husband. 'Are you going to come to Doctor Cullen's villa tonight? Oh, you absolutely must join us! They throw the most wonderful parties, anybody who matters will be there!'
'Oh..I'm not so sure.'
'Please come, Edward.' Alice smiled, grasping Jasper's arm, 'You'll adore Doctor and Mrs Cullen and I'd just love to introduce you to our friends.'Edward chucked gently, 'I suppose I could swing by.'