CHAPTER ONE

He didn't resemble any butler that Mey-Rin had ever imagined. Even for a south Pacific island. Her mental images of a deferential collar-and-tie, coat-tails, white gloves and handy parasols scattered.

Momentarily, he looked equally surprised. As well he might, garbed only in a navy towel, slung low around the hips.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," he said at last, once the exchange of shocked stares reached breaking point.

"That explains it," she said in turn, finding her voice, and with it her self-assurance. "Maybe because we booked from the other side of the date-line? I'm Mey-Rin… Mey-Rin Lao, I mean. We've booked Lucky for our honeymoon."

"'We?'" he repeated, scanning the boat-plane and jetty behind her, only occupied by the pilot, busy unloading her cases.

"Turns out it's just me." She swallowed down the hard lump in her throat, as her face flushed. Hopefully the blinding sunlight would disguise it. "Mr. Lao had a last-minute engagement."

"Ah," he said. "I must have misunderstood when he called to cancel."

"Cancel?" she squeaked. Anger surged upward, contributing to her blushing state.

The under-dressed butler nodded.

"So nothing is ready, I'm afraid," he continued. "There's a very nice hotel, with bars and restaurants, back on…"

"I'm tired," she announced, forcing down her temper and folding her arms, as if to resist shaking her fists, which at the moment was exactly what she felt like doing. Not to mention stamping her feet, bursting into tears, jumping off the nearest cliff and screaming bloody murder. "And parched. I've just travelled halfway around the world for my honeymoon, minus my husband, and what I really want is a rest - right now."

He folded his own arms in an equally stubborn gesture, and drummed his fingertips on a bare bicep, considering her sweltering and none-too-elegant figure critically.

Who does this guy think he is? More frustration and injustice boiled inside her than she felt she could safely contain. A few days to himself and he's parading around naked like he owns the place…

"If I could just use the phone or a computer, I'll call Mr. Lao - or his office - to clear things up with the owner directly," she suggested, appealing to his sense of loyalty.

She hoped he had any. That looked like a designer towel he was currently abusing.

Acknowledgement emerged on his hitherto distantly irritated expression, and a spark of hope fired inside her.

"No need," he said, quietly. "There's no other staff here, as they weren't going to be needed, but so long as you don't mind the inconvenience - I'm sure you could stop here and get your rest." He waved to the pilot of the seaplane, and beckoned him to bring the bags up to the house. "Come and take a seat on the terrace - excuse me while I make myself decent, and then I'll show you to the guest lodge."

"I understood that we had booked the main house," Mey-Rin remarked, gesturing up at the gigantic, sprawling stone and timber façade, half-embedded into the surrounding tropical greenery.

"Of course." He hesitated. "I mean, you can rest in the guest lodge, until the house is ready for you."

"Oh." No staff on hand, and thanks to Lao, they weren't expecting anyone anyway - he probably needed to run around with a duster. She reached the top step of the terrace, and sank gratefully into a deeply padded wicker seat. "Of course. Thank you, er…"

"Sebastian," he said.

"Mr. Sebastian," she nodded.

"Help yourself." He pointed to the refrigerated bar on the terrace. "I would offer to serve you, but I don't think I'm dressed for it."

With that, he turned away and headed indoors.

God, his attitude was dreadful! Mey-Rin wondered if he just lay in wait for guests, acting as if they were a surprise to him every time - then got away with providing half-hearted service and little attention, while they felt they imposed on his hospitality.

When she had been a domestic, no-one who valued their job would even consider treating visitors with such arrogant indifference…

XxX

Another of Lao's little princesses on his doorstep - only this time, minus Lao. Probably due to the fact she'd dragged him down the aisle! He'd definitely been clear not to expect them on the message he left - said he was going to Venice with Ran-Mao, his long-term old flame that kept re-igniting.

Must have been a shock to wake up actually married. Sebastian smirked to himself as he tossed the towel into the linen basket and headed for the dressing-room. That was the thing about the Lao family - trained from birth to watch out for gold-diggers and honey-traps. It would come as a nasty surprise if one caught him unawares.

Not like the rest of us, he thought wryly, surveying the rails of shirts and pants, dismissing anything too garish or casual. No special training or warnings given…

But you could still learn from the mistakes of others. As he shrugged on a white shirt, Sebastian was glad of Lao for keeping those reminders coming. Although maybe not for leaving those mistakes wandering around loose to be resolved by others, when he couldn't be bothered.

As if no-one else had their own problems. Sebastian sighed. Hopefully she could be persuaded that the hotel on the next island was a more attractive option. Then perhaps he'd properly have the place to himself, in which to regain his own sense of sanity and autonomy.

Bad butler, he smiled.

XxX

Mey-Rin was pinning up the escaped tendrils of her hair when he emerged again, back arched in the chair as she peeled the long waves off her damp neck. Her hands flew to her lap modestly as he appeared, embarrassed at having been caught preening already, as Lao would call it, in front of another man.

"Not thirsty?" he remarked, seeing that she hadn't moved since sitting down.

"I couldn't decide," she replied. "What do you recommend after a long trip?"

"Hmmm." He went around the bar. "How about a spritzer? Or I can mix up a mean Sangria."

"Whatever has the least amount of alcohol in it," she said.

"Something without alcohol?"

She nodded.

Didn't sound like one of Lao's usual lady-fiends. Sebastian opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of sparkling mineral water.

Unless… maybe that's how she got him down the aisle… and sent him on a runner with his mistress all at the same time…

He dropped some lime and cucumber into a tall glass, and not too much ice.

"Can I get you something to eat?" he added, a little less abruptly.

"I don't suppose you can make a decent bacon sandwich…" she muttered, and he could hear her stomach growl from the far side of the terrace.

"I could make you an indecent bacon sandwich," he smiled, and her look of hunger mixed with affront amused him even more. "How about I have a go at making one, and you can give me your opinion on whether I'm any good at it afterwards?"

"Wouldn't it be easier just to ask how I like it made first?" she snapped wearily.

"No fun in that. Besides, I never remember verbal instructions," he said, and striding by, deposited the glass on the table in front of her. "Won't be long."

And he disappeared inside again.

XxX

Mey-Rin scowled at his infuriating behaviour, but grasped the cold glass greedily, gulping down the liquid without a care for appearing ladylike. The chill from it saturated her being instantly with more-than-welcome relief. For a few moments she luxuriated in the sensation, temporarily blotting out the pervasive, horrible recollections of her wedding reception only three days earlier.

Lao was a rat. A gold-plated prize rat. She was only sorry she hadn't taken more than the honeymoon tickets and luggage before she left. She could have got away with - deserved - so much more…

Or maybe I don't, she thought miserably. Everyone had warned her about him. The evidence was all over the place - his past, his over-subscribed contacts list, the messages that never stopped. Her life had gone from a fantasy to a dream to a nightmare. She'd been his patsy, his love-struck blinded bimbo willing to overlook the hectic social life and romantic attention deficit - even having helped to conceal some of it from his previous partners - until her efficient, loyal attitude apparently won his heart, changed his tune, turned over his new leaf, and she in turn was bowled over by the flattery, that he would even consider her as a reason for suddenly speaking in clichés all the time… 'You're my Cinderella' he said on so many occasions…

But beyond all the speed-dates and escorts and internes passing through his calendar that she had carefully managed, there had always been Ran-Mao in the background. Glamorous, successful, married Ran-Mao - who, startlingly and amicably, citing incompatibility, divorced her older husband two months ago when he developed a penchant for rubber, to which she was allergic. Or perhaps she developed the allergy after the penchant was established? Mey-Rin wasn't sure. And suddenly, Lao was consulting with Ran-Mao all the time. Over this business deal or that, this magazine cover photo or that, even this wedding venue or that…

They'd obviously discussed that particular one in detail, with special focus on the nooks and crannies they could slip into unnoticed.

Except by the wedding photographer, who in a selfless gesture of his own, handed the multimedia memory card directly to Mey-Rin, rather than attempt to profit from it. Lao would willingly have paid him off for life.

Now he'll just have to pay me off instead, she seethed, and bit into an ice-cube, the crunching of shards in her mouth substituting for the teeth-grinding that she really felt like doing.

"Not quick enough for you, I see?" The butler's return gave her a start, and she looked down at the large stoneware plate that slid in front of her. Doorstep-cut granary bread layered with crispy grilled bacon was heaped seductively in the middle, alongside a fragrant salad effort of sliced tomato, black olives and mozzarella, oozing with French dressing. "Tomato ketchup? Brown sauce? Mayo? Mustard? Barbecue sauce…?"

"Oh my God…" Eyes glued to the impromptu feast, Mey-Rin couldn't remember what or when she last ate. Had she even touched the wedding breakfast three days ago? "Get inside meeee…"

"Pardon?" Now it was the butler's turn to squeak.

"The sandwich," she breathed, snatching it up and taking a bite. Heaven. "Ummm… ummm… mmmm… ketchup. Please…"

"Sure." Somewhat bemused, the not-completely-useless Mr. Sebastian went over to the bar and returned with a bottle of tomato ketchup. "Oh - this has chilli in it. I'll go to the kitchen and find another."

"No!" Mey-Rin held out a hand imploringly. "Chilli's good, I like chilli. Gimme."

XxX

Sebastian watched her wolf down the food, fascinated. Most women that Lao brought over dropped a mask or two once they reached the seclusion of Lucky Island - usually to show themselves up as peevish, whining, bored and high-maintenance divas who wanted a bit of nightlife and shopping, or at the very least a phone signal, and who tried to make the household staff feel uneducated, uncomfortable, uncultured and unappreciated at every opportunity.

Almost the opposite was happening under his curious gaze now. She was turning practically feral. The designer pumps were already kicked off, handbag forgotten and spilling its modest contents underneath the table.

"Another glass of water?" he offered, pointing to the empty glass, and her nod of response was almost frantic.

What was Lao on when he picked this one? Let alone married it? Sebastian boggled as he returned to the bar. He wasn't into the Cinderella-types, or the charity cases. And yet here she was. Wearing what anyone would recognise as a Lao family rock on her finger. Some smart snooping was definitely in order.

"Your water, Mrs. Lao," he said, placing it on a fresh napkin.

She half-snorted, as if at an unshared irony, but seemed to swallow it down along with her mouthful, and muttered "Thanks."

And then - getting rid of her would be preferable.