Chapter 8
Eager to get on with their plan, Jasmine smiled. “My bodyguard will not be an issue. Shall we continue?”
“Absolutely.” Christos led her down a hallway and stopped at the first door. “This is my father’s study. He wouldn’t allow me to remodel here. The man likes the traditional wood paneling and rich colors. My father did allow me to replace the dusty old drapes with new ones. Other than that, this room has not changed much in the last hundred years.” He pushed the door wide and walked in.
While Ace hovered in the doorway, Jasmine stepped inside. “I have great respect for a traditional study. The wood is warm and inviting. Do the curtains cover windows, or is that a door?”
Christos crossed to the drapes, pulled them back and secured them in a metal hook. “My father pulls the drapes when the afternoon sun shines through the French doors.”
“How nice.” Jasmine smiled. “Do the doors open onto the lawn or a garden?”
“A garden. My mother wanted him to remember why he worked so hard, so she planted roses and other flowers outside his office.”
“I bet it’s beautiful.” Jasmine joined Christos at the French doors, peering out into the night. “Does your father walk in the garden?”
“Rarely, since my mother passed.”
Jasmine touched his arm. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Christos turned his back on the garden. “Anyway, this is my father’s study.”
Jasmine noted the locks on the French doors before turning her back on them to study his father’s domain. Two walls bore floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Another wall held a display of ornamental swords.
“Does your father collect swords?” Jasmine asked.
“Among other things,” Christos said.
“I have collections, as well,” Jasmine said. “What else does your father collect?”
“Besides these swords, he has a collection of artwork, including paintings and sculptures. He’s also collecting ancient artifacts.”
“How interesting,” Jasmine said. “I have an artwork collection, including an original Van Gogh. Part of my remodeling effort is to establish a display room with a robust security system. Some of my pieces are very valuable.”
“My father’s primary input into our renovations was to require a room where he could display his artwork and collectibles as well as protect them from climate and theft,” Christos said.
“I’d like to know more about it,” Jasmine said. “And maybe you could give me a recommendation as to who you used to design and install the necessary infrastructure. Do you think they’d come to Sardinia to install a system for me?”
Christos smiled. “I’m sure they would, for the right price.”
“Right now, I have a very rudimentary system,” Jasmine said. “I want something more high-tech and harder to breach.”
Christos laid a hand on Jasmine’s back and urged her toward the study door. “Let me show you what we did. It could give you some ideas for your design.” He stepped out into the hallway, where Ace stood beside the door, staring at the wall in front of him.
Christos’s brow dipped briefly as he passed Jasmine’s bodyguard and continued down the corridor with her at his side. He stopped in front of another door that looked much like the others with inlaid panels and matching hardware.
“This door might look like the others, but...” He lifted his hand and tapped his knuckles on the door, making an odd sound for a knock on wood. “It’s solid metal. You can’t break it with an ax like you can a wooden door. It would take a long time for a torch to cut through it. We access the room by using an electronic keypad.” He reached his hand toward a painting on the wall. “Do you like this painting of the Birth of Venus?”
Jasmine nodded. “It’s lovely. Is it part of your father’s collection?”
Christos’s lips twisted. “In a way. It’s not an original, but it serves a purpose.” He slid the painting to the side, exposing a keypad. “My father wanted the keypad. I suggested disguising it behind the painting.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Clever, don’t you think?”
“Very,” she responded with a smile.
Christos rested his fingers on the keypad. “We have a biometric scanning system on backorder. It’s taking a ridiculous amount of time to get it. As soon as it arrives, we’ll have it installed. Then we’ll have fingerprint and retinal scanners. Only my father, our chief of security and I will be able to access the room.” He turned to Jasmine and cocked an eyebrow. “Do you mind turning around?”
Jasmine’s eyes widened. “Oh. Of course, I don’t mind.” She turned her back to him.
“And your bodyguard?” Christos said.
Jasmine spoke to Ace in English. “He wants you to turn around so he can enter the code.”
Ace nodded and turned his back.
Christos entered the code, and the metal door slid open.
Jasmine peered into the dark interior. “Is there a light switch?”
Christos stepped over the threshold, and lights blinked on. “The lights are equipped with motion sensors.” He held out his hand. “Come see my father’s collection. You might find it interesting.”
Jasmine entered the room.
When Ace started to follow, Christos held up a hand. “He’ll have to wait in the hall.”
“Guard the hall,” she said.
Ace nodded and stood with his back to the door.
Jasmine fought a grin. Ace looked stern and robotic, so different from the warm, caring man she knew and loved.
Her heart fluttered.
Loved.
After all the years apart, were her feelings still as strong as they’d been that week they’d spent together?
Her chest tightened. She’d dreamed of finding him again. Now that she had, she didn’t want him to disappear. But did her feelings change anything? Were they destined to part again?
When she finally got around to telling him her secret, she seriously doubted he’d walk away from his son. If Eli weren’t in the picture, would he walk away from her?
These questions occupied space in the back of her mind. At the moment, she had more important priorities to pursue.
The door slid closed between her and Ace.
“As I was saying, the lights have motion sensors and are carefully positioned so as not to further damage delicate old paintings. The art must be protected from harsh lighting and humidity.”
“Exactly what I need for my collection,” Jasmine said softly.
“My father has ancient papyrus paintings with hieroglyphics he doesn’t want to fade any more than they already have over the centuries.”
As Christos led Jasmine deeper into the room, her gaze swept through the contents that she could see from where she stood. Paintings lined the walls, some encased in glass.
Other collectibles were displayed in glass cases or on shelves or pedestals. It was an impressive collection of gold jewelry, decorative pottery, miniature figurines and carved statues.
“My father has been collecting paintings for as long as I can remember. His more recent obsession is artifacts from ancient Egypt.” Christos stopped in front of a carved statue of an Egyptian god. “Take this statue of Isis, for example. It dates back to around 1045 BC.”
Jasmine stared at the statue, amazed that anything could stand up so well against time. “That’s old. And yet, it remains intact.”
Christos nodded. “It is. Egyptians clung to their beliefs in their gods and goddesses. My father became interested in the Egyptians after joining an archeological dig with a friend, Louis Bertolli, who was deep into Egyptian history and lore a couple of years ago. Even more recently, his interest has been peaked by a new discovery in the Valley of the Kings of a recently-discovered tomb. In that tomb, the hieroglyphs tell of a treasure the king hid. He left clues throughout his kingdom in the form of gifts he”d sent to the leaders of various outposts of his empire.”
Jasmine frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He sent gold jewelry, mosaics, stone tablets inscribed with stories in hieroglyphics and statues like this one of Isis. In each, he left a clue as to the location of the treasure.”
“Fascinating,” Jasmine said, and she meant it.
“My father became obsessed with finding and collecting the artifacts described in that king’s tomb.”
Jasmine wondered how the copper scroll fit into Athanasios’s treasure hunt. The copper scrolls only dated back to 65 AD, nearly a thousand years after the dead king had included the story of the hidden treasure. “Has he had any luck finding the artifacts?”
“Some,” Christos said. “Take this statue of Isis… Its clue is the inscription on the base. It doesn’t make much sense on its own. The theory is that when all the clues are collected, the clues will make sense.”
“Where did your father find this statue?” Jasmine asked.
Christos snorted. “He found it in the estate of the late Ronald Westbury III. His grandfather, Ronald Westbury, Duke of Westbury back in the late 1800s, funded a dig near Giza. Because his dig produced significant finds, the government of Egypt gifted him with this ancient statue to thank him for all he did in recovering more of their history.”
“Nice of them to gift the duke,” Jasmine said.
“My father studied the king’s hieroglyphs, which included giving a gift to one of his trusted outpost leaders in charge of managing the outpost near what is now modern-day Giza. My father looked through records of digs near Giza and found the dig the Duke of Westbury had financed. The gift of the image in the king’s tomb resembled a statue of Isis. The cataloged finds included a statue of Isis.”
“And did it also record where the statue was sent?” Jasmine asked.
He nodded.
“How did your father come to own the statue?” Jasmine asked.
“My father made a trip to the UK and found the Westbury estate up for auction. The last surviving relative had died with no heirs. The estate was for sale, including everything in it. He bid on the statue and bought it for practically nothing.”
“It’s amazing it still exists,” Jasmine said. “Especially after all these centuries.”
“Westbury’s discovery was buried beneath the rubble of a church. As the rubble was cleared, the tomb was unearthed, all its contents intact.”
Jasmine had read about the looting of tombs and how many Egyptian treasures no longer resided in Egypt, having been taken to other countries by private collectors or governments to fill national museums.
“My father has spent the past few years studying the records of a number of archeological digs at the locations inscribed on the dead king’s tomb.”
He led her to a case that displayed an intricate tile mosaic. Several tiles were missing, but the image was clear of the god Horace handing a scroll to the king. “My father says this is another clue; however, I have no idea what it means. He seems to think there was a scroll passed from Horace to the king, and that scroll was passed from the king to a priest near the Dead Sea who was to preserve the scroll. It”s supposed to hold the key to all the gifts, thus the location of the treasure.”
“The Dead Sea Scrolls?” Jasmine asked.
“The Dead Sea Scrolls are said to contain messages about treasures. The same goes for the copper scroll,” Christos said. “Anyway, my father is obsessed.”
“How was he able to obtain a mosaic?” Jasmine asked. “I would assume it was attached to a building somewhere as a floor or design on a wall.”
Christos shrugged. “I don’t ask. Some things just appear in this room.” He moved away from the mosaic. “Personally, I think he’s chasing the wind. If there was truly a treasure, it would have been looted centuries ago like all the great pyramids. If you like paintings, my father has several from world-renowned artists. He used to be a more avid collector of art, but he hasn’t purchased any recently as he’s so obsessed with this treasure hunt. He did manage to acquire a little-known Monet from a private collector fifteen years ago. It’s his favorite of the paintings.”
Athanasios’s son stopped in front of the Monet and stared at the vibrant colors on the canvas. “In all his collection, this is my favorite.”
“It’s beautiful,” Jasmine said. And it was. But she only pretended to study the work of art as she continued to scan the room out of her peripheral vision, searching for the copper scroll. She moved on, her gaze moving from the paintings on the walls to the glass cases below.
At the far end of the room was a table with a large lighted magnifying glass bent over it. What was lying on the table gave Jasmine’s heart a jolt.
The box. Her box. The case she’d had designed to transport the fragile copper scroll.
It was here. Within reach.
She pointed at the box. “What’s this?”
Christos’s lips twisted. “I think it’s my father’s latest find.”
“How exciting.” She tilted her head. “Do you know what’s inside it?”
Christos shook his head. “No idea. Probably some dusty old jewelry or a stone statue. I’m surprised my father isn’t here, looking over it like a child with a new Christmas present.”
Jasmine glanced around. “Where is your father? I would like to have met him.”
“There was trouble at one of his warehouses near the port earlier,” Christos said. “He was called away to investigate.”
“Nothing serious, I hope,” Jasmine said, happy to know the older Demopoulos was nowhere nearby.
“I don’t know. It was something about an explosion. I heard about it as I was going into the casino. It must have caused significant damage since he hasn’t returned. As late as it is, he should be home soon.”
All the more reason for Jasmine to set their plan into motion.
She smiled. “It is getting late. Are we still good for that drink?”
Christos perked up, appearing happy to leave the artifact room and get on with his plan to woo her. “Let’s go to my suite. I have a fully-stocked bar. And you might be interested in the renovations I did there.”
“Sounds lovely,” Jasmine said.
He led the way to the door of the secure room and waved his hand over a red light on the wall. The door slid open.
Christos stepped out and waited for Jasmine to cross the threshold. Once outside the room, the metal door slid closed behind them.
Ace fell in step behind them as Christos guided Jasmine down the hall and back to the main entryway. They climbed the curved staircase to the second level. On the landing above, he turned left and walked to a set of double doors. He pushed the doors open and stood back for Jasmine to enter.
When she passed him, Christos blocked Ace from entering.
“I’d hoped we could be alone,” Christos said to Jasmine.
Jasmine nodded and spoke to Ace in English. “You can stay outside. I can take care of myself.”
Ace nodded and took up a position in front of the door as Christos pulled it closed.
Alone with the young man, Jasmine cocked an eyebrow. “Shall we take care of business first?”
Christos nodded. “Of course. Let me get you a drink. You can relax and enjoy the view while I get your money.”
“Perfect,” she said and turned away. “I do have a plane to catch early tomorrow morning. I have a meeting with my board of directors in Rome. They don’t like it if I’m late.”
“I can have my driver deliver you to the airport in plenty of time to catch your plane,” Christos said. “That would give us all night to get to know you better.”
“Mr. Demopoulos, do you presume to seduce me?”
His lips curled upward. “The thought did cross my mind.”
“Get me that drink, bring me my money and I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll get you that drink.” He hurried across the floor to the bar against the wall.
Jasmine looked around the sitting room. He’d decorated it tastefully with white leather furniture and glass-topped tables. The best part of the room was the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Athens below.
“What would you like to drink?” Christos asked.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she said.
“Do you drink scotch?”
She nodded. “I do.”
He lifted a bottle and pulled off the top. “I bought this from one of my favorite distilleries the last time I was in Scotland.” He poured amber liquid into two tumblers and dropped a couple of ice cubes into each. He swirled the liquid around inside the glass as he carried it across the room to Jasmine.
She took one of the glasses and softly tapped it against the rim of his. “To the highlands of Scotland.”
Christos shook his head. “To getting to know each other.” He tapped her glass again and then tipped his glass back, drinking half the liquid in it.
Jasmine touched her glass to her lips and pretended to take a sip. She didn’t dare in case he’d laced it with a date rape drug. Not that she thought he would, but why risk it? Because of the urgency of her mission, she couldn’t get sloppy and let herself be incapacitated. Her son’s life hung in the balance. She had to keep a cool and smart head on her shoulders to free him.
Her actual thoughts winging ahead to the point in time she’d be back in that artifact room, Jasmine smiled secretly. “Mmm...is that the aged oak barrel that I taste?” She acted as if tasting Scotch was the only thing on her mind.
Christos drank another long swallow from his glass. “Precisely.” He smiled. “Nothing but the best for my guest.”
“I’ll need the distillery”s name to order some for my home.” Jasmine took another pretend sip.
“I’ll get that for you.”
Jasmine cocked an eyebrow. “Money first.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll get that now.” He set his tumbler on a glass table in front of the sofa.
Jasmine set hers next to it and walked with him to the door.
He paused before opening the door. “I have to go into my father’s quarters. You can stay here and finish your drink.”
“I will,” she said with a smile. “I would like to speak with my bodyguard and let him know I’ll be a couple of hours and that no one is to disturb us.”
“By all means,” Christos said with a smile and left the room. He passed Ace and hurried across the landing to the double doors on the opposite end.
Jasmine remained just inside the door.
Ace approached.
She lowered her voice to a whisper in case Christos’s room was bugged with listening devices. “Clear your throat when he’s on his way back.”
He gave a slight nod.
In a louder tone, she said, “You’re to remain outside these doors for the next few hours. We’ll require complete privacy.” She winked.
Ace dipped his head once and took up a position beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
Jasmine left the door open and returned to the glass table where the two tumblers stood. She twisted the gem on the ring and dumped the powder into Christos’s half-finished drink. She poured some of her drink into his, lifted it, swirled the liquid around and was in the process of placing it back on the table when Ace cleared his throat.
She picked up her glass and walked toward the windows. When Christos walked into the room, Jasmine stood at the window, her drink half-empty. She looked out at the night sky, keeping Christos in her peripheral vision.
He entered, closed the door behind him and twisted the deadbolt lock. “Is your bodyguard good to go for a while?”
Jasmine nodded. “We’ll have complete privacy for the next couple of hours.”
“Good.” He held out a stack of currency. “I have your money.”
She tipped her head toward the glass table where his tumbler stood. “You can leave it on the table for now.”
He dropped the bills on the table, retrieved his glass and joined her at the windows.
She stared up at him. “Most men are intimidated by a woman who can beat them in a competition. I hope you don’t mind that I beat you at poker.”
Christos shook his head. “Not at all. I admire strong women. My mother was a strong woman.”
“How did she die?” Jasmine asked.
“Of breast cancer,” he said, staring down into his drink.
“That must have been a difficult time for you and your father.”
He nodded. “It was. They didn’t discover it until it was too late.”
She raised her glass. “Let’s drink to your mother and all mothers who love their little boys.” She lifted the glass to her lips and pretended to drink as long as Christos did.
He downed the rest of the liquid in his glass. “We’ve talked a lot about me. What about you?”
She smiled, wondering how long it would take for the drug to take effect. “What would you like to know?”
“To start with,” Christos stepped closer. “You’re a beautiful woman. Why aren’t you married?”
She raised her eyebrows. “It all goes back to being a strong woman. I have yet to find the man I’m willing to give up my independence for.” Except one. The guy standing in the hallway.
“You need a man who compliments your independence. An equal with whom you can share your life, not burden it.”
“Are you such a man?” she asked.
He lifted one shoulder. “Perhaps.” Christos tilted his head. “Do you like to dance?”
Jasmine nodded. “I love dancing.”
“Then we need music.” Tipping his glass, he drank the last of the scotch, turned, set the tumbler on the table and retrieved a remote-control device from a pocket on the side of the sofa. When he touched a finger to one of the buttons, music filtered through hidden speakers throughout the room.
He set the remote on the table beside his empty glass and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
She laid her palm in his and let him draw her into his embrace.
For several moments, they swayed to the rhythm of the music.
Christos’s hand resting on the small of her back sank lower to span her bottom.
Jasmine reached behind her, gripped his hand and moved it up, on level with her waist. How long would it take for the drug to work?
The man’s brow wrinkled. “I thought you wanted this.”
“I want a lot of things,” she responded. “All in good time. Right now, I want to enjoy the music with a man who knows how to dance.”
He grinned. “Some say dancing is a form of foreplay.” Before she could guess his intentions, he twirled her away from him and back into his arms, dipping her low to the floor.
While he had her at a disadvantage, he briefly brushed his lips across hers.
When he straightened, he staggered a little, almost dropping Jasmine.
Jasmine regained her balance, steadied herself and then helped Christos regain his balance.
“I feel a little dizzy,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We don’t have to dance,” Jasmine insisted. “Come. Sit.” She led him to the white leather sofa and urged him to sit. When she tried to sit close to him, he swung her around.
Jasmine lost her balance and sat across Christos’s lap.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Francesca,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to ease off his legs and onto the cushion.
His hands gripped her hips and refused to let her go. “I don’t know why, but I’m....sleepy. And... you’re beautiful. I want to...make...love...to you.”
She chuckled softly. “Then let me do all the work.”
He leaned his head back. “Mmmm. That sounds wonderful.” His hands fell to his sides. “I’m all yours.”
She slipped off his lap and tipped him sideways until he lay across the sofa.
He closed his eyes, smiling. “I’ve never...been beat...by a woman.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve never met me before.”
He lay on his back, his lips curled. “Do as you want,” he said, his voice fading.
Though she wanted to get moving, Jasmine waited another minute or two to ensure Christos was well and truly asleep and wouldn’t follow her to the artifact room.
When Christos’s chest rose and fell in a slow, easy motion, Jasmine reached for the money on the table and shoved it into the pouch beneath her shirt. Then she stood and crossed the room to the locked door.
She twisted the lock and opened the door.
Ace stood there with a frown creasing his forehead. When he saw it was her, he pulled her into his arms. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, loving how warm and secure she felt wrapped in his arms. “Yes.” For another moment, she allowed herself to revel in his embrace. “I’m okay,” she said. “The drug worked like a charm.”
“Good.” He set her at arms’ length, looked down into her face and then kissed her quickly. “We need to get moving.”
“Right,” she said, pulling herself together, wishing she could stay longer in his embrace, but knowing she couldn’t. Maybe, when she had Eli back, safe and sound, they could pick up where they’d left off all those years ago.
She snorted softly. And if wishes were horses…