From the book

Ariana adored the French Riviera. She’d been coming here all her life with her parents, and never failed to be captivated by the golden light, the softly swaying palm trees, and the charming belle époque buildings along this magical stretch of coastline. Cannes during the festival was like nowhere else on earth.

Back when she was a teenager, Ariana had begged her father to take her and been blown away by the energy and atmosphere. Everywhere you turned there was another celebrity: Jude Law strolling along the Croisette; Uma Thurman sunbathing on a yacht; Le Bistro Gourmand.

The Hotel du Soleil was apparently located in the old town, the cobbled streets and fishermen’s cottages a world away from the glitz and glamour down by the marina. Ariana checked her satnav, but she was definitely heading in the right direction.

She felt unexpectedly nervous, but excited too. She still had no idea why her grandmother had left the property to her – though Ariana had plenty of experience staying in luxury hotels, she knew nothing about running one – but the challenge was thrilling. Demetrios had told her she didn’t have to be involved; they could put a management company in place, collect the profits and never have to worry about it again. In fact, Demetrios had advised her against visiting the hotel at all, but rather to leave everything to their lawyers, as Elana had clearly done. But Ariana was intrigued. She had no immediate plans to return to LA, and there was nothing going on in Ithos, so why not take a trip to the Côte d’azur? She could check out the festival too, catch up with friends, and schmooze all the producers and directors in case she decided to revive her fledgling acting career. The monotone voice of the satnav told her she was almost there.

A discreet sign indicated the entrance and Ariana swung the steering wheel, looking round eagerly as she turned in.