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| About the Book |
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| read an excerpt |
In
this extract, we meet Carlos Cabrera—though that is only one of the names he
wears like an interchangeable mask. A consummate conman and emotional predator,
he slips through airports and identities with the ease of a man who has long
since abandoned the burden of conscience. As he prepares to leave Miami for
London, he lounges in luxury, untouched by the devastation he has left behind.
Meanwhile,
Sarah Copeland, the latest casualty in his trail of carefully constructed
betrayals, stands on the edge of despair. Her life, stripped of love, security,
and hope, hangs by a thread as she confronts the headstone of her late husband
and the ruins of her own judgment. The contrast is stark: while Sarah drowns in
grief, Cabrera glides effortlessly toward his next deception.
This
extract from the prologue marks the shifting of shadows from Miami to London,
where darkness is about to seep into the city’s streets. In Dark Orchid
Affair, this is the moment the reader feels the first cold breath of the
noir storm about to break.
Extract from the Prologue of Dark Orchid Affair
The headstone looked back at her,
and Sarah hoped John did not blame her.
‘Sorry, John, I know, I was an idiot, please forgive me. I need you more than ever now, please be waiting for me, you’re all I have.’ She got to her feet; and looked once more at the headstone before walking back to the car. Across the Royal Park Bridge, she stopped halfway and leaned against the railings, looking down at the boats anchored below. She watched a couple on the deck of one of the boats huddling up close to each other. She looked at the wedding ring on her finger. It was loose from the weight she had lost in the last few months. She twirled it around, thinking of her wedding day. Closing her eyes to get a clearer picture in her head, and as she did, she let go of the ring, before she could react, it slid from her finger into the water below. She thought about jumping over the barrier, ending it all right there and then, but she had already made other plans.
The lemon grass chicken with the
vermicelli noodles had been quite a delight. Cristian had never been keen on
eating at airports, but that was something special. Settling back into his
chair, he made himself comfortable as the TV screen flickered to life with his
flight details.
Gate D27 wasn’t far. He left the
comfort of the American Express Centurion Lounge and stepped into the frenetic
chaos of passengers rushing in every direction. Plugging in his earphones, he
blotted out the pandemonium with Beethoven's Sixth Symphony. The timings worked
kindly for on arrival at the departure gate, boarding for his seat number was
announced.
The
girl, who had applied her make-up to perfection, greeted him with a warm smile
at the British Airways gate. Removing his earplugs he noted how the cacophony
of noise from the airport terminal had bowed its dissonance to a genial level.
‘Good afternoon, may I see your
boarding pass and passport?’ she asked cheerfully.
Cristian reached into his jacket
pocket and handed over the documents, nodding absentmindedly as he wondered if
she had more reason to smile than he did. Attempting to mirror her warmth, he
greeted her, but his effort felt clumsy in comparison to her polished
professionalism. She examined his passport briefly before returning it with
another bright smile.
Passport
Number: 509843271
Name:
Carlos Cabrera
‘Enjoy your flight, Mr Cabrera,’
she said, handing his documents back.
‘Oh, I will,’ he replied, this time his smile matching hers, ‘I will.’
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