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While Trey checks in, I wander over to a set of glass doors, attracted by a stream of shimmering pink light. Peering inside, I see the most vibrant red and white carpet that one could imagine offset by huge crystal chandeliers and a ceiling that is reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel.
“This is where my parents held their twentieth anniversary party,” Trey tells me as he comes up next to me and turns the handle opening the door.
“I have never seen anything like this,” I assert in utter amazement. “There have to be a dozen paintings up there!”
“Thirteen,” Trey clarifies. “The one large one in the center and there are a dozen smaller ones surrounding it. It’s one of the most elaborate ballrooms in the world, which is why my father always favored it.”
“I have never seen anything so elaborate and detailed,” I reply, unable to pry my eyes from the incredible ceiling.
“Just wait til you see the cupola that was designed by Gustave Eiffel,” Trey remarks. “He’s the one who designed the Eiffel Tower.”
“Yeah, I assumed that.” I tilt my head and roll my eyes at him.
By the time we reach the room, my mind has been nearly saturated by extravagance and grandeur. As he opens the door to our suite, I am surprised to be greeted by an elegantly modern room. Gorgeous hardwood floors, modern contemporary art and beautiful furnishings seem like a perfect escape from over indulgence.
Trey takes my hand and leads me directly out to the terrace. “Here is the best part,” he says with a smile as we walk up two steps into absolute paradise.
“Wow! This is incredible!” I feel my jaw drop as I look down upon the yachts in the harbor that leads to the beautiful blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. “This is like something out of a dream.”
“It is.” He gives me a tentative smile. “All you need now is one of your new swim suits. They are in the closet in the master bedroom.”
“My clothes are here already?” A small bit of giddiness flutters within me.
“They are.” Trey takes my hands and looks into my eyes. For a moment I’m expecting a romantic gesture, but the look is deceiving. “Go change, then we will order some breakfast and enjoy the beautiful morning.”
Trey
For a brief moment I had managed to push the conversation with Ray out of my mind. As soon as Mandy walks away, however, it immediately consumes my thoughts again. The one person who might be able to help me is Jürgen, so I send him a quick text explaining my dilemma. I let out a deep sigh upon seeing Mandy grab a few things from her makeup bag and disappear into the bathroom. Tired of waiting for a reply, I walk out onto the terrace and give Jürgen a call.
“Thanks for picking up,” I tell him as he answers my call.
“Well, I had to after seeing your text message. You have to feel like you’re living in the twilight zone,” he replies quite accurately.
“No shit!” I take a deep breath, trying to relax and figure out a plan. “Can I just send you a hair sample? How long does it take?”
“A hair sample has to include the follicle. It’s easiest to take a Q-Tip and swab the inside of your cheek, put it in a zip lock bag and overnight it. I can have preliminary results within a matter of hours,” he explains as if it’s no big deal.
“Her dad doesn’t want me to tell her, so I have to try get a sample without her knowing,” I inform him.
“No. Trust me Trey, you need to talk to her. I don’t care what her dad said,” he states adamantly. “If she finds out that you withheld something like this from her, it will be the end of your relationship.”
“That was my gut reaction too. But her mom is really sick and Ray thinks it will kill her if she finds out.” I glance back to find Mandy standing at the doorway in her new bikini.
“If she finds out what?” Her eyes instantly flare as she walks straight up to me.
“I’m going to have to call you back, Jürgen,” I hang up, knowing I no longer have a choice in the matter.
I take Mandy by the hand and try to speak as calmly as possible. “Your father insisted that I wasn’t supposed to share what he told me, but I can’t keep it from you.”
“Why? What did he tell you?” She asks with a look of terror haunting her face.
“He doesn’t want your mother to know, so you have to promise not to say anything to her. Okay?” I try to clarify prior to telling her.
“I’m not going to promise anything, but if I see the need to protect Mom, you can trust that I will.” Her eyes darken as her emotions swing from fear toward anger.
