The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,15

the taxi sped off.

As I sank into bed half an hour later, I suddenly realised I hadn’t done a line since that afternoon with Maxime and that made me feel very good indeed.

Irritatingly, I woke the next morning at five a.m. and even though I took a sleeping pill, my brain refused to switch off. So I lay there contemplating an empty weekend in Paris while scrolling through the contacts list on my cell to find some playmates to keep me occupied. I realised that there was no one I really wanted to see, because I would have to make the effort to be Electra the Supermodel, and I wanted some downtime.

But not by-myself downtime . . . I reflected as I watched the luminous numbers on the bedside clock move agonisingly slowly towards six a.m.

Then I thought about Atlantis, with Ma and Claudia, and how I could roam the house and grounds in the old sweatpants that I kept in the bottom drawer in my bedroom, and how I wouldn’t need to make any effort to be anyone other than me . . .

Before I could change my mind, I dialled Christian’s cell phone number.

‘Electra, good morning.’

‘Hi, Christian. I was thinking that, actually, I will drive back with you to Atlantis.’

‘That is good news! Marina and Claudia will be very happy. Shall I collect you at The Ritz in one hour?’

‘Great, thanks.’

I then texted Mariam.

Are you awake?

Yes. What do you need?

Call me.

She did and I explained that I needed to fly back to the States from Geneva rather than Paris.

‘Not a problem, Electra. Do you need me to book you a hotel?’

‘No, I’m going home to see my family.’

‘Wonderful!’ she replied with such warmth that I could totally imagine her smiling. ‘I will get back to you with all the confirmations.’

‘What about you, Mariam?’ I said, suddenly aware that I was leaving her to fend for herself. ‘Will you be okay in Paris? You’re welcome to charge a flight home today on the credit card if you’d prefer?’

‘No, Electra, I am quite happy here. I was planning to see Bardin this afternoon, if it was convenient for you, so I will make my arrangements and meet you at the airport in Geneva tomorrow night.’

I did a line from the packet Maxime had left me, then threw everything into my suitcase and holdall before ordering a selection of French pastries with a side of fruit to make me feel better about the carb overload. After breakfast, I called for the bellhop to take my bags down. Donning my big black sunglasses (CeCe had once said I looked like a bluebottle in them), I followed my bags out to Christian and the comfortable Mercedes saloon. As he greeted me and opened the rear door, I shook my head.

‘I’ll ride up front if you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all,’ Christian said as he moved to open the passenger door for me.

As I settled myself in the front seat, I smelt that initial comforting aroma of leather, air freshener and Pa’s unmistakeable lemony scent. I’d been climbing into our family’s cars since I was a child, and the smell had never changed, even though Pa was now gone. It indicated home and safety and if I could bottle it, I would.

‘Do you have everything you need, Electra?’ Christian asked me as he started the engine.

‘I do, thanks.’

‘The journey usually takes approximately five hours,’ Christian told me as we glided away from The Ritz.

‘Have you told Ma I’m coming?’

‘I have, yes. She asked if you had any special dietary requirements?’

‘I . . .’

I realised that last time I was home, I was on a detox, drinking green tea by the bucketful. I’d been with Mitch, who was so clean he’d squeaked, but I’d taken an emergency bottle of vodka with me in case I lapsed. Which I had, but that was understandable because it was Atlantis without Pa for the first time – a wake without the funeral.

‘Are you okay, Electra?’

‘Great, thank you. Christian?’

‘Yes?’

‘Did you drive Pa to many places?’

‘Not really, no. Mostly to Geneva airport to board his private jet.’

‘Did you ever know where he was going?’

‘Sometimes, yes.’

‘And where was it?’

‘Oh, many destinations around the world.’

‘Do you know what he actually did?’

‘I have no idea, Electra. He was a very private man.’

‘And then some,’ I sighed. ‘Don’t you think it’s weird that none of us knew? Like, most kids are able to say their dad is a shopkeeper or a lawyer, but I couldn’t