The One Addicted(90)

We link arms and head inside, my excited nerves bubbling at the surface, threatening to explode and send me haywire - I can’t remember the last time I was so concerned about my appearance. Tonight I wanted to be everything for him; to him.


The spa is an uber sophisticated delight. Firstly our mani-pedi’s are attended to, whilst we complete medical and general health questionnaires and we then both receive a sitting facial which promises to rejuvenate and plump.

“As long as it makes me look 10years younger I’ll be happy.” Abs chatters away to the attractive therapist from Saudi, who doesn’t speak a word to us the whole hour.

Then we are taken into separate rooms for our individual treatments. I undress ready and climb onto the bed, where the senior therapist, who’d seen us earlier, places a warm towel across my body. She then sets about, darkening the room and beginning my reflexology. Cocooned in my chrysalis, I begin to relax under her expert massaging, the soles of my feet practically crying out in pleasure, as she works through the crystals clustered in certain parts of my body. This was heaven.

I almost jump out of my skin as the reflexologist speaks. “This is your hip…” she presses on the outside of my anklebone, before moving across to my inner anklebone. “…And this is your pelvis. You have pelvic issues yes?”

WTF? How did she know that? “Hmmm - yes.”

She goes quiet again and I feel her pressing just below my inner ankle bone area, nearer my sole, it feels a little more tender; actually that’s a bit sore.

“No more reflexology for you today. You didn’t mention your pelvic issues.”

I sit up resting on my elbows surprised at the sudden abruptness of her decision. All I can say is “Oh.”

“You have puffy tissue around the inside of your ankle bone, near the sole. This means NO reflexology.”

She’s very strange but also quite scary so I don’t argue with her and instead lie back, expecting to receive the detox cellulite bollocks that would make me look all slinky for tonight instead.

“You get dressed now.”

“Am I not having the Detox treatment either?” Maybe Abby only booked it for herself by accident?

“NO.”

“What about my back and scalp massage? I think my friend booked me those as well?”

“You can’t have those - we use aromatherapy oils and they are not good for you with pelvic issues.”

Great. I hop off the bed and begin to dress. Well at least I’d had my nails done and a facial - which had made my skin feel like a baby’s bottom - oh, and a partial foot rub.

Abby would be ages. Crap!

I head into the Reception area and find a lemon water waiting for me and some magazines. The therapist makes her way over to me and asks if I’m alright, and tells me to wait 30minutes before leaving, as the reflexology can make one feel nauseous. Double great.

An hour later Abby arrives, all fresh and relaxed, swearing that she’s a full dress-size smaller and we head back to the hotel. I explain briefly what had happened but don’t go make a meal of it, in case it makes her feel bad. She’s very sympathetic, especially when I truly do begin to experience waves of nausea, like the therapist had suggested was a possible side-effect. Back at the hotel, we arrange to text once the men have left and meet in my room, to assist one another with our dresses.

When I let myself into our room, I call out Sebastian’s name but he’s not there. They must still be entertaining the Sheik? I drop my bags, kick off my shoes and collapse on the bed, glad to close my eyes for while. A quick nap and I’d start getting ready for the Ball.


I awake to a note from Seb, and a Black leather jewellery box, nestled on my pillow. Stretching I sit up on the bed and cross legged, reach for both, then notice the dress carrier hanging from the large mirror - ooh my dress must have been delivered, I hope he didn’t nosey. I return my attentions to his note, which is handwritten and his hasty scrawl warms me; capital letters as per usual;


I hold the letter to my mouth, wanting to cherish the words a moment longer. Seeing them there, handwritten in black and white was so defining. I bite my lip and squeal into the empty room. Then remember the box. It opens seamlessly and I sigh as the light catches the stunning Pave diamond drop earrings encased within. They were fit for a Princess and far too excessive. I take one slim pendulum jewel from its velvet cushioned base and hold it up at my ear in the mirror, turning my head this way and that to catch every angle. God they are stunning. Soft tones of white, yellow and rose gold mix together tastefully with diamonds to create a hammered effect that sparkled with each movement. They would look perfect with my dress and I wipe the tear that had formed at my eye at his thoughtfulness; it is nice to sit back and let him spoil me without considering equality for once - sometimes a girl just wanted to be pampered - no questions and without guilt and Sebastian Silver did that to perfection.