Wedding Night

“Like I said, I’ll make it up to you.” He runs a finger down my cheek, down my neck, and under the duvet, fingering the top of my incredibly expensive cami. “We have all morning.”

“All day.” I reach up to pull him down for a kiss.

“We’ve earned this,” he murmurs. “Oh God. Oh Jesus.” His hands are tugging off my cami-knickers. “Lottie. I remember you.”

“I remember you,” I manage, my voice heavy with lust. His clothes are all off now. He’s as hot as I remember; he’s as hard as I remember. This is just as good as I remember; it’s going to be amazing.…

“Madame?” The grave voice of Georgios hits my ear. For a moment I think it’s Ben, fooling around with an impression. Then I realize it’s not Ben. Which means it’s the butler. Which means—

I sit bolt upright, clasping the duvet round me, my heart pumping.

The butler’s in the suite?

“Good morning!” I call in a strangled voice.

“Is madame ready for breakfast?”

What the fuck? I pull an agonized face at Ben, who looks as though he wants to hit someone.

“Didn’t you put on the DO NOT DISTURB sign?” he whispers.

“I thought I did!”

“Then what—”

“I don’t know!”

“Good morning.” Georgios appears at the door to the bedroom. “Sir, madame, I have taken the liberty of ordering you a very special treat. Most highly recommended by all our VIP honeymoon guests. Our Champagne Breakfast with Music.”

I stare back at him, speechless. Music? What does he mean? What on earth—

No way. I nearly convulse with shock as a girl appears at the door. She’s got long blond hair and is wearing a white Grecian tunic, and she’s wheeling along a massive harp.

I exchange looks wildly with Ben. How do we stop this? What do we do?

“Mr. and Mrs. Parr. Congratulations on your marriage! Today I will be playing for you a selection of love tunes, to accompany your breakfast,” the girl says, and takes a seat on a fold-up stool. Next moment she’s plucking away briskly at the harp and Georgios plus his assistant are bringing trays on stands to the bed and pouring out glasses of champagne and peeling fruit and offering us little finger bowls to refresh our hands in.

I haven’t managed to utter a word. This is too surreal. I was about to have the hottest sex of my life. I was about to consummate my marriage. And instead I’m having a kiwi fruit peeled for me by a sixty-year-old man in a braided jacket while a harpist twangs “Love Changes Everything.”

I’ve never really been one for the harp. But this one is making me want to hurl my basket of mini-croissants at it.

“Please. A loving-cup toast, to celebrate your marriage.” Georgios gestures at our champagne flutes. Obediently, we link arms to sip our champagne, and with no warning Georgios throws a handful of pink confetti over us. I splutter in shock. Where did that come from? A moment later there’s a flash in my face and I realize Georgios has taken a photo.

“A commemorative photograph,” he says gravely. “We will present it in a leather-bound album. Compliments of the management.”

What? I stare at him in horror. I don’t want a commemorative photo of me looking hungover and disheveled with confetti stuck to my lip.

“Eat,” Ben whispers in my ear. “Quick. Then they’ll go.”

That’s a point. I reach for the teapot, and Georgios leaps forward reprovingly.

“Madame. Let me.” He pours me a cup of tea and I take a couple of gulps. I swallow some kiwi fruit, then clutch my stomach.

“Mmm. Delicious! But I’m stuffed.”

“Me too.” Ben nods. “It’s been a great breakfast, but maybe you could clear it away now?”

Georgios hesitates, seeming reluctant.

“Sir, madame, I have for you a special egg dish. They are the finest, double-yolk eggs, prepared with saffron—”

“No, thanks. No eggs. None.” Ben stares Georgios down. “No. Eggs. Thank you.”

“Of course, sir,” says Georgios at last. He nods at the girl, who comes to a hasty final cadence, stands up, bows, then starts trundling her harp away. The two butlers pack the trays up and remove them to a trolley outside. Then Georgios appears back in the bedroom area.

“Mr. and Mrs. Parr, I hope you have enjoyed the Champagne Breakfast with Music. Now I will await your command. I am at your disposal entirely. No request is too large or too small.” He waits expectantly.

“Great,” says Ben off-puttingly. “Tell you what, we’ll call you.”