“Act like a brat,” Mitch muttered as he turned towards me, pretending to look back at the plane out the window.

I glanced at him in shock before my eyes snapped to the man who had rushed forwards to help us with our bags.

I didn’t want to come off as rude but I trusted Mitch. He was still looking out the window as the guy approached us. His white clean outfit bore the symbol of the hotel we were staying at and he was marching towards us.

“Dad,” I said in a loud, flat voice. “The guy from the hotel is here.”

Mitch turned towards him, his face lighting up.

“Oh, they did send someone!” he said with an accent that wasn’t entirely his own, thrusting his bags at the man who grabbed them from him. “I was so worried that, because we hadn’t come through on a commercial flight, we’d be waiting hours. Do you remember when we went to that tiny place in the Maldives? Man, we were waiting hours. I almost had to get that guy fired!”

Mitch took my bag from me and started towards the airport doors without waiting for the man who chased after him.

I wanted to rush to catch up with him too but he’d said to act like a brat so I forced myself to dawdle, walking slowly and pouting slightly.

“Mr Taylor? The car is just this way,” the man called to Mitch, who was marching towards what was definitely the wrong car, and gestured towards a pristine white car.

Mitch turned back towards him, the look of surprise on his face.

“Silly me! I just assumed it would be this car!” he said, his hand already stretched out for the wrong car’s door handle.

He turned and strode towards the correct car, looking back to where I was waiting under the canopy of the door.

It took a surprisingly high amount of willpower for me not to move immediately towards him but instead, I stayed back, squinting in the bright sun. I was not well dressed for the climate, which I realised was intentional. Mitch had told me to wear black leggings and a black hoodie and I belatedly realised that it was to make it so I looked like I was refusing to fit in.

“Are you coming, Alice?” he called, looking expectantly at me.

I cocked my head to the side, before looking up at the canopy above me then back to Mitch and sighing heavily.

“I guess so,” I muttered, just loud enough for him and the person from the hotel to hear me.

I slunk over to the car, reluctantly dragging my feet, and climbed inside.

Mitch slammed the door shut behind me before jogging around to the other side and climbing in as the hotel worker struggled with our bags.

“Am I doing okay?” I muttered as I pretended to struggle with my seatbelt.

“Doing good, kid, but ham it up more. Pretend you hate me and hate that I dragged you here,” he replied in his normal voice before jumping back into his other accent as the guy climbed into the front seat. “Man, the weather here is ridiculous! Is it always this hot? Look at how blue the sky is, Alice!”

I ducked my head to glare out the window, crossing my arms with a heavy sigh as the car peeled away from the curb.

“Wow, so blue,” I grumbled flatly. “How long is the journey?”

“Now, now, Alice. What did I say? We’re going to have one holiday without a fight, aren’t we?” Mitch chided gently.

I wanted to apologise. I never wanted Mitch to chide me or tell me off, even as part of an act, but we needed to sell it.

“You said that,” I muttered. “I never agreed to it.”

“Alice,” he sighed, sounding genuinely sad. “Just because your mom isn’t here doesn’t mean—”

“It’s your fault she isn’t here,” I snapped, cutting him off despite how guilty I felt.

“Alice,” he said again, sounding slightly more begging.

“No, it is!” I said, raising my voice. “You’re the one who divorced her, not the other way around.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” he muttered after a pause, staring pensively out the window.

My heart went out to him but I forced myself to sigh loudly, dragging the noise out.

“I doubt it,” I said snidely.

Mitch sighed again, giving me a subtle thumbs-up so that the driver wouldn’t see, and I grinned out the window.

The world that rushed by was fascinating. I’d never been to Greece before but it was stunning. The streets were more colourful than I was used to and the people seemed more friendly, but the journey was over too fast. Before long, we were pulling up in front of the large, glass-fronted building.

The man rushed around the car to open the door for me and it was difficult to stop myself from staring. I had to play the part of a bratty kid who was used to holidays like this, I needed to be bored.

“Thanks,” I muttered grouchily as the guy shut the car door behind me.

He smiled at me politely but I forced myself to ignore it and turn to look at Mitch instead.

“How long is it going to take you to check us in?” I said loudly, trying not to cringe at how rude I sounded.

“Shouldn’t be too long,” he said, smiling uncomfortably at the couple who were walking past, looking at me in surprise. “Go in there and grab a seat. Just relax until I’ve finished sorting everything out.”

I rolled my eyes at him, worried that I was playing it up too much, and stormed into the cool, air-conditioned building behind us.

The scattered circles of low armchairs were mostly empty but still, I walked to the furthest one before sinking into it and wishing I hadn’t left my phone in my bag. I gazed back towards my bag longingly but the man who had driven us from the airport was loading into a golf cart for us. I couldn’t go and ask him for my phone. That felt weird.

I glanced around instead, my eyes scanning the lobby.

There were no signs of Sterling’s people there. Well, there was no one in black combat clothes but they could easily be there. The couple checking in before Mitch could work for them. They looked fairly young, fairly fit. It wouldn’t surprise me.

Mitch turned around, his eyes also scanning the room before landing on me and, even from the distance, I saw his shoulder slump noticeable. It was an act, an excuse for him to be looking around the room, but he pulled it off well.

I tried to let my eyes linger on him before flicking towards the people in front of him and back again, trying to communicate my worries to him. He raised a hand to ruffle his hair and nodded just noticeably, before looking forwards again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man walking towards me, dressed in the same crisp white uniform as the man who picked us up from the airport.

“Excuse me, miss?” he asked, waiting for me to look at him. “Can I get you a drink?”

I just wanted some water but that didn’t feel right for the character I was pretending to be.

“Can I just get a glass of champagne?” I asked, barely looking at the man and feeling horrible for acting so dismissive. “Just whichever one you have about.”

He didn’t even hesitate or ask to see my ID despite the fact I was clearly underage.

“Of course,” he said, rushing away again.

I was a little surprised at how easy that had been but now worry turned in my stomach. I’d never had champagne. Well, I had. I’d tried a sip of it but never more than that.

I’d need to find a way to get rid of it without it being too obvious about it. Maybe Mitch could help.

The man rushed back towards me just as the couple in front of Mitch walked away and he approached the check-in desk.

“Here you go,” he said, holding his silver tray with a single long-stemmed flute of champagne out towards me.

I took it, the stem of the glass feeling too fragile in my hands and smiled at him tightly before taking a sip of the tart, fizzy liquid.

I should have just asked for water.

“Thank you,” I said with a tight smile.

He nodded at me before rushing away again.

I watched from a distance as Mitch spoke to the woman at the check-in desk who smiled at him, taking tiny sips of my champagne. I regretted my choices immediately but it felt too late to ask for champagne and also a glass of water. That would just be weird… right?

I didn’t have a chance to mull that over enough to come to a decision because Mitch stepped away from the desk and was looking around the room. I knew that he’d seen me and the glass that I was holding but I quickly and pointedly looked away so that I didn’t see his reaction.

“Alice,” he called, having walked towards me.

I took another sip of my drink, pretending to stare out of the window down at the stunning view.

The sea stretched out in the distance with Spinalonga jutting out of the water like a fortress. The various blue-roofed white villas and pools were scattered before the building leading down to the sea. Even that was stunning. It was the most beautiful and pure blue I’d ever seen before in my life, dotted with white sailboats.

It was pretty and so much nicer than anywhere I would have been able to go in real life.

My heart squeezed slightly at that realisation. I wanted that luxury. I wanted to experience it for real, not just in what was essentially a dream.

“Alice,” Mitch said from just in front of me in a gentle voice. “Are you ready to go to our rooms?”

I blinked, realising where I was and smiled at him tightly.

“I guess,” I drawled but my voice was filled with suppressed emotion.

“Come on,” he said softly, tilting his head towards the door behind him.

The golf cart they’d loaded our bags onto was now gone and another idled in its place, the driver looking at us.

I pulled myself up, glancing at the view one last time before looking back at Mitch.

“Let’s go then,” I sighed.

“What are you drinking?” he asked casually.

“Champagne.”

His steps faltered and he shot me a look of barely suppressed approval.

A flash of happiness burnt through me at that. He was impressed by me. By the decision I had made. I knew I shouldn’t have gone for water. Champagne was what Alice the brat would have ordered.

“You’re drinking?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “I thought you agreed to only having a drink with dinner whilst you’re here with me?”

His tone was demanding, as if he expected a fight.

“You took too long!” I said, matching his tone and exceeding it.

“No more. Give me that,” he ordered reaching out for the glass.

I hesitated, knowing exactly what I should do. I didn’t want to but I knew what Alice would have done.

I brought the glass to my lips, taking several big gulps, before handing him the empty glass with what was more of a wince than the smug grin I was going for. The champagne had burned the back of my throat, coating it with acrid liquid and stopping my grin from being quite as wild as I wanted it to be.

Mitch sighed loudly, placing the glass on a nearby table, before grabbing my arm and leading me towards the door as my eyes stung from the drink. I forced myself to smile happily and shoot the boy who was sitting by the door reading a book a grin as Mitch dragged me outside.

I barely got the chance to see the boy’s reaction but I saw enough to know that his eyes followed me from the lobby.

“Mr and Miss Taylor?” a women who worked for the hotel asked with a polite smile, clearly taking in Mitch’s grasp on my arm but not saying anything.

It wasn’t particularly tight but I knew it looked bad. I yanked my arm away from him and cut in before he could say anything.

“Are you going to take us to our room?” I demanded obnoxiously.

“Yes,” the woman replied in a flawlessly polite tone.

“Good. I left my phone in my bag and someone took it there already, I hope.”

“Alice,” Mitch warned in a tone that told me to keep going.

I narrowed my eyes at him before smiling at the woman.

She didn’t even falter. She was perfectly professional which made me a little sad. She must have dealt with people like me before.

“If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll take you to your suite,” the woman said, gesturing towards the golf cart.

I had to hide the surprise that went through me.

Even the golf cart looked perfect. The seats were the exact blue of the stitching on the logo of the hotel, the rest of the cart white. There was no visible dirt or dust. It was clear that a lot of work went into making the hotel look perfect.

Mitch climbed into the row of seats just behind the woman who was driving but I hesitated. Normally, I would have climbed onto the seat next to him without hesitation but… Alice wouldn’t have.

I sighed loudly and slowly walked towards the back of the cart, hauling myself onto the rear-facing seats and dropping down heavily.

My eyes found the boy through the glass front. I wanted to look away immediately, to blush under his gaze, but I didn’t need to here. My lips slowly rose as I took in his dark, floppy hair and chiselled face.

He looked to be about my age and he was still watching me. He smiled hesitantly as the cart started to move away.

I watched him until we turned, blocking him from view, my mind mulling over this new possibility. He was cute, that much was obvious, but I was here with Mitch. Surely, I couldn’t do anything about that cute guy who seemed into me… right?

But, maybe I could. Like, surely Alice the brat would flirt with him if she saw him again… right?

We pulled up in front of a two-story white villa whilst I mulled it over and tried to justify attempting to flirt with him but the sight of the place where we’d be staying for however long it took us to scope out the island and go over there pushed all thoughts of the guy out of my head.

I fought to stop my mouth from dropping open as I climbed down from the golf cart and walked towards it, stopping to let a tiny lizard cross the orange tiles in front of us.

“This is where we’re staying?” I asked, trying to keep the wonder out of my mouth.

“It is. I know it’s not quite the place you went on holiday with your mom a few weeks ago but it’s still nice, right?” Mitch asked, injecting just the right amount of desperation into his voice.

“I guess.”

Mitch grinned at me before tapping his keycard against the scanner on the door and pushing it open.

“Thank you,” he called to the woman who had been waiting to make sure we could get into the room as she waved at us and drove away.

He pushed the door open fully and gestured for me to step inside.

Our pretty much brand new suitcases, intentionally scuffed by us on the flight with sandpaper so they’d appear well used, waited by the door but I barely noticed them as I stared around the room.

“Wow,” I breathed.

The room, or villa I should say, was huge. And I was just looking around the downstairs! The lounge stretched out, long and thin, with large grey sofas in front of the glass french windows. I stumbled forwards, looking towards the windows. The wispy white curtains had been pushed back, revealing the private infinity pool beyond which gave way to treetops and, eventually, the sea.

The villa felt so private, so isolated, in the best way possible.

I opened my mouth to speak but Mitch got there first.

“What do you think of the place, Alice?” he asked.

Confusion washed through me but I recovered quickly. If he were calling me Alice, he must be doing it for a reason.

“It’s fine. Where are the bedrooms?” I asked loudly.

Mitch sighed, having finished surveying the room, and started to root around in his duffle bag. He pulled out something that could easily be mistaken for a phone and started slowly pointing it around the room, watching the screen intently.

“There’s only one room, I thought I told you this. It’s upstairs and one of us will be staying on the pull-out sofa.”

He was looking for cameras and listening devices, I realised.

“Well,” I said, sneering at the sofa. “I hope you’ll be comfortable on it.”

I turned on my heel and stalked towards the stairs before marching up them.

The bedroom was somehow more impressive that the room downstairs. The huge bed in the centre looked spacious and comfortable and it took everything I had not to throw myself onto it and fall asleep immediately.

Despite what I had said downstairs, I expected Mitch to take the bed. He’d paid for the room. Or, at least, his client had but I wasn’t really sure. He deserved the proper bed, not me.

The attached bathroom was pretty impressive too. It stretched almost the full length of the villa with a huge sink, a bath opposite and right at the end of the room, a shower. A sigh of longing almost slipped out of my mouth as I stared up at the giant, square shower head. I could already tell that the water pressure would be great.

I wandered back into the room, smiling at Mitch but not saying anything as I walked towards the attached balcony. Two seats and a small circular wooden table sat in the middle of the balcony, overlooking the pool and the sea.

Spinalonga was right in the middle, the balcony giving us a great view of it. I wanted to ask Mitch for his binoculars, to stare at the island and check it for motion. He’d said that people went on tours there but I couldn’t see anything from how far away it was. Instead, I settled for leaning against the wooden wall of the balcony and squinting in the bright sun.

The island looked tiny but I knew, up close, that would be very different. A wall surrounded much of it and huge husks of buildings were placed seemingly randomly on it. I wasn’t sure which part was Dante’s gate or where the lepers would have entered the island from. Maybe the right side of the island where it kind of sloped down into the sea. That could have been a port? There were some ships just off there too so that would make sense.

The door opened slightly more behind me and Mitch sunk into one of the chairs.

I looked back at him and he gestured for me to take a seat too.

I did so, waiting for him to speak.

“All clear. No cameras or devices here. We should be good to talk pretty freely but maybe not too loudly,” he said, craning his head to look over the balcony.

I nodded, still not feeling comfortable talking.

“So, what do you really think of this place?”