Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
N ick closed his study door with a decisive click , resisting the temptation to slam it. He looked around the dark-panelled room—the only room in the villa not painted in bright colours— and thought how well it suited his mood. He was spending so much time in here that he might as well move in his bed and start taking his meals at his desk. Then he wouldn’t have to annoy his impossible wife with his presence. He ran an agitated hand through his hair and sank into the leather chair behind his desk.
He knew Belle needed time to heal, but hell, this tiptoeing around her was driving him nuts. It didn’t help that she insisted on picking fights and touching on subjects he’d rather leave alone.
Children . His mind skittered away from the subject. It was inevitable that he’d have to reveal all the gory details to Belle one day.
But for now, her safety came first.
That meant getting to the bottom of just what Richard Francis knew. The reporter had been decidedly cryptic when Nick had spoken to him on the phone two nights ago. He’d deliberately delayed getting in touch with Francis, because he’d wanted to gather as much information on him as possible.
So far, the Daily Bugle reporter seemed clean. But Nick wasn’t na?ve enough to believe that everything was above board. Francis had used the one name he knew would get Nick’s attention. But he wouldn’t hesitate to shut him down if the guy in any way threatened Belle’s safety.
Which brought him to the next thing riling him. The idea of letting a complete stranger onto the island made him seriously nervous, but leaving Belle here alone to go meet with Francis was out of the question.
It was a good thing Alex had sent additional security from his personal team. Now he had two-dozen men protecting the island—more than enough to safeguard the most important thing in his life.
And yet he couldn’t relax.
Every time he stopped for a moment or closed his eyes, he remembered the terror he’d felt when he thought his wife was lost to him. It was the same terror he’d experienced when he’d heard her scream in her sleep.
The doctor he’d flown in had prescribed her mild sleeping pills after Nick had brushed aside Belle’s protests and told him about her nightmare.
Holding her in his arms, feeling her tremble with fear had been one of the hardest things he’d ever gone through. Keeping his anger at bay for the thug who’d done this to her while fighting the intense reaction holding her close brought had tested his every last reserve.
Thankfully, she hadn’t suffered any more nightmares since that first night—he knew because he’d listened for her.
Baby steps , the doctor had advised.
Not the most patient of men at the best of times, Nick was going insane waiting for answers. He’d never hidden the fact that he was a man who felt most comfortable in control of his destiny. The dent to that control, and yes, to his pride, when Tinkerbelle had walked away rankled deep; still rankled, truth be told.
The sinking realization that he hadn’t been enough for her made his fists clench. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. She’d claimed he was everything to her at the beginning. He’d believed her, dammit, believed they didn’t need anything else but each other.
He needed to know why she’d changed the rules. He certainly wasn’t prepared…Wasn’t equipped to grant her what she’d asked for…
The very thought of bringing a child into this mess made ice flow through his veins, bringing with it a sense of helplessness he hadn’t felt in a long time.
No. He wanted her back, but he wasn’t prepared to turn himself inside out for her. And he damned well wasn’t about to let her go. Which meant things were about to get…interesting.
He gave a hollow laugh, closed his eyes, and pictured her perfect body by the pool just now. Damn, the way the tiny bikini clung to her figure, barely leaving anything to the imagination, had made him so hot he’d forgotten how to breathe. She’d tried to hide herself from him, but he didn’t need to see to remember. The instant hard-on, the knot in his gut, and the hammering of his heart were proof enough his wife still held him in thrall.
But, he cautioned himself as he opened his eyes and clawed a hand through his hair, all of that meant nothing if he couldn’t trust her not to desert their marriage. Without trust, sex was just…sex.
He let out a frustrated sigh.
Straightening, he touched a button and brought his computer back to life. When he saw the picture of Richard Francis, his jaw tightened. The reporter’s features were nondescript—short, mousy-brown hair, an unkempt beard, and dull brown eyes. Nick minimized the file and tensed when he saw an email from John Allen.
Adrenaline shooting through him, he read it, only to sit back a second later.
Dammit, nothing was going his way. He hit the first number on his speed dial.
“In a world made smaller by smart technology, how can it be this hard to find one man?” he snapped the moment Allen answered.
“Africa is a beautiful place, Mr. Andreakos. But it’s also a perfect hiding place if one chooses not to use any technology. We believe that’s what Mwana’s doing—opting for total electronic blackout so he can’t be traced. But he’s bound to surface sometime.”
Nick gritted his teeth. “I’m not a man who enjoys waiting around for things to happen. Sometime isn’t good enough. If you have to go back into the jungle to flush him out, do it.”
He hung up in time to see Belle rise out of the pool, her body outlined perfectly in the sunlight. Lust slammed through him, momentarily erasing the ripple of anxiety that had taken solid root inside him.
Fucking baby steps . Well, if that’s what Belle needed, then baby steps were what she’d get. Starting with the familiar pastime that had brought them both pleasure in the past. A rare smile broke through his frustration as he picked up the house phone and relayed his instructions.
“ Kalispera, pethi mou . I hope you’re feeling better after your swim?”
Now adequately clothed and seated in the cool living room, Belle looked up at the evening greeting. Nick came toward her, a box in his hand, closely followed by Sophia, the young maid, carrying a tray.
“What are you doing?” She answered his question with one of her own, surprise shrilling her voice when he paused next to her, put the box on the table, and started arranging the cushions more comfortably around her.
He indicated where he wanted the hovering maid to place the drinks and… popcorn?
“It’s Thursday,” came the cryptic reply. He sat next to her and dismissed the maid.
Belle tore her gaze from the play of taut thigh muscles beneath corded trousers.
“I know what day it is. That’s not what I asked. I asked what you?—”
“Have you forgotten? Thursday night is Trekkie Night. I’ve got, let’s see… Deep Space Nine , Voyager , and your favourite, The Next Generation . Or, if you insist, we can watch the latest movie. I’ll even try and stop myself from punching the screen when you swoon over the lead actor. So…want to toss me for it?” His easy smile nearly undid her, but she held fi rm, watching his hand disappear into his pocket and emerge with a coin. She drew in a shaky breath, unwanted memories pouring over her like a flash flood.
Their Thursday nights together were one of the things she’d missed most about her marriage. She’d hurry home from the parttime evening teaching position she’d taken near their London penthouse in Knightsbridge and set out the drinks and Blu-rays. After a leisurely shower, she’d make oodles of buttery popcorn sprinkled with cinnamon, just the way Nick liked it. Once he arrived, they’d unplug the phone and watch disc after disc of Star Trek , sometimes mimicking the well-known characters, until the silly role-playing inevitably culminated in torrid lovemaking on the sofa. A lump lodged in her throat at the painful memory.
“No. No, Nick, we’re not those people anymore.” It broke her heart to say it.
“We’re not closet Trekkies anymore?” he asked in a mock whisper, looking over his shoulder with exaggerated concern to see if anyone had overheard him. “I don’t think you’re allowed to leave the club once you’re in. I hear it’s like Fight Club , or something.”
Her lips reluctantly twitched as she fought the urge to smile, but pain registered deep inside her.
“You know what I’m talking about. We used to do that when…before… everything else happened.”
“And we can do it again. There’s nothing to stop us. All you need to do is say yes.” His voice was soft, but his piercing gaze willed her to say the word. She had a feeling he wasn’t talking about just watching the sci-fi series.
The question was, did she want to? Did she want to travel down this particular memory lane with him, knowing it would only lead to other memories she didn’t want to relive? She turned away and glanced at the huge bowl of popcorn in front of her, her mouth watering at the promise of the buttery snack.
God, she’d missed this. So much. What was the harm in indulging just this once? Just one more time before it all ended?
She looked up to find him still focused on her. Against her better judgment, she opened her mouth. “Yes.”
He flipped the coin. She won. Without comment, he inserted the chosen disc into the machine and took his seat next to her.
Three hours later, Nick reached for the remote and turned the TV off.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” His hooded eyes rested on her face in a caressing look that sent her pulse thundering.
“No, it wasn’t,” she answered truthfully. She didn’t know whether it was the recollection of the old camaraderie they’d shared or the decision to let the truce run its course, see where it led them, but when she looked at him, she felt neither the sharp pain nor the bitter disappointment that lurked, ready to pounce.
Now all she remembered was how easily they’d shared laughter at the beginning of their marriage. She smiled at him and rose from her seat.
“I enjoyed it a lot, but I’m tired now. I think I’ll turn in. Good night—” Her words faltered when he grasped her wrist, imprisoning her with a fi rm, strong hand.
“Don’t go yet, it’s still early. Stay and share a nightcap with me.”
“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She didn’t trust herself around him, especially when he was being laid-back and charming.
“Why not? The doctor said a small drink won’t interfere with your sleeping pills, so what’s the harm?”
She opted not to tell him she’d stopped taking the pills a couple of days ago. Thankfully, the one terrifying nightmare hadn’t returned. What she wasn’t thankful for was the feeling of knife sharp hunger that accompanied going to bed, wishing for the strong arms Nick had wrapped around her when her nightmare had seized her.
The pleasure-pain that came with her longing for his warm body next to hers had made lying in the large bed upstairs so much harder to bear. It also didn’t help that her memories of the bliss she’d enjoyed there replayed like a never-ending movie every night.
The need not to experience it again so soon made her nod.
“All right.”
His smile was pure, lethal charm. “White or red?”
“Red sounds great.” She sat back down and watched him stride over to the extensive drinks cabinet.
“Would you like to take them out on the terrace?” he asked as he came back toward her holding two filled wine glasses.
The chance to breathe in some fresh air and digest the mezedes , which Demetra had served halfway through their Trekkathon, was welcome. It always amazed her how much of the small dishes of assorted lamb, pastry, and stuffed vine leaves she could put away. At this rate, she’d regain the weight she’d lost in no time.
“Okay.” She preceded him onto the terrace. The view of the rising moon over the sea, creating a shimmering silver path, was breathtaking. She took a sip of her full-bodied claret and felt the slow burn of the liquid ease through her. Nick moved next to her and braced his shoulder against the stone pillar, his gaze fixed firmly on her face.
A soft breeze whispered through her light green cotton dress, making her aware of the cooling temperature. It also brought the sandalwood-tinged scent of Nick’s aftershave, coupled with the muskiness that was uniquely his. Recollection of what it was like to breathe in the warmth of his skin made her shiver.
He pounced on her reaction and moved closer. “Are you cold?”
“Um, no, not really—” His arm around her shoulders, drawing her into the warmth of his body, dried her words. She inhaled sharply, her whole being tightening in reaction to his touch. She felt the familiar flaring of her senses as her body’s antennae strained toward him. The wine goblet wobbled in her shaky hand. She took a huge sustaining gulp, then relinquished it without a fight when he took it from her.
Setting their glasses down on the terrace wall, he wrapped his other arm around her, his unwavering eyes on hers. Her heart tripped at the fierce arousal stamped on his face.
He pulled her closer, crushing her against him from chest to thigh.
After several weeks of self-imposed abstinence from alcohol and months of abstinence from him, the combination of wine and Nick shot her from sober to intoxicated within seconds. He’d been waiting, biding his time. She’d seen the barely concealed hunger with which he’d looked at her the past couple of days as she’d gotten stronger, and had chosen to believe she was imagining it.
But now his hunger was unleashed. She barely gulped in another breath before he lunged with the ferocity of a jungle predator.
The hand on her shoulder traced up her neck and sank into her hair, pulling her head back to tilt her face up to his. She lost herself in the molten silver of his eyes as, with a faint growl, he plunged down and took her mouth with his. The exquisite sensuality of his lips and the undeniable imprint of his arousal against her belly made arrows of sensation shoot through her. Her lips parted in a gasp.
He didn’t take advantage of the opening. Instead his tongue swirled over her upper and then her lower lip in lazy exploration. After endless minutes spent tasting her, he drew her lower lip fully into his mouth, sucked on her tender flesh until she whimpered with need. Feeling her bones turn liquid with desire, she clutched the sleek muscles of his back to stay upright.
When she thought she couldn’t stand another second of the torment, he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, commencing a furious duel with hers. Molten heat pooled between her legs. Her hands contracted, nails digging through his shirt and into his hard flesh. He groaned, and she felt his cock surge against her belly. His hand freed her hair to chart a path of fire down her neck. He traced the frenzied pulse there, then skimmed his hand down over her collarbone to palm one breast.
Her nipples peaked instantly in wanton invitation, eager to feel the rough abrasion of his thumb.
He obliged, passing restive fingers across her puckered flesh over and over, before pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand cupped her backside, kneading her soft flesh before he pressed her closer to his arousal. She whimpered as fierce need tore through her. Her senses on fire, she ran urgent hands under his shirt and sighed with satisfaction as she encountered muscled hardness. She yearned to feel him against her, naked, skin-to-skin. Another moan escaped her lips as Nick pressed his thighs against hers.
He freed her mouth, gave them a chance to inhale much needed air, but his assault on her senses didn’t abate. With the precision of a shark, he followed the vein to the pulse in her neck and explored it with his mouth and tongue. The rush of air from his lips heated the soft whorls of her ear, and she gasped at the pleasure overload.
“God, you’ve no idea how much I’ve wanted to be with you like this,” he muttered hoarsely as his hand left her breast and started lowering the thin strap of her dress.
With the cool rush of air on her exposed skin came reality.
She tore herself out of his arms and took several steps backwards. Heaving deep breaths, her fingers found and held onto the safety of the table behind her.
“Well, that’s too bad, Nick. I stopped being your wife a long time ago, and I won’t sleep with you just so you can scratch an itch.” She cursed the huskiness of her tone.
Shock and disbelief darted across his face. “Is that what you think this is?” he asked, his voice sandpaper-rough. Arousal still blazed in his eyes, and she could see his hard-on pushing against the zipper of his trousers. With her own need sharply thwarted, she swallowed hard and looked away.
“What else can it be? Your testosterone levels are so off the charts right now you can barely see straight. And I haven’t forgotten how much you love sex.”
He inhaled sharply, a sound that brought her eyes back to his. “I’ve never hidden the fact that I’ve always enjoyed sex, but if you think I can jump from our bed to another—” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what to make of that.”
Pain lanced through her. Looking into his face, she could almost have sworn she saw hurt there. “What am I supposed to think? You barely paused to take a breath after we separated before you were out partying and carrying on as if you were single again. Granted, you’re extremely photogenic, but seriously, did you have to pose for every single photographer in London, with every single beautiful model?”
“My life didn’t stop just because you’d decided to storm off in a tantrum.”
“Don’t belittle my feelings. What was wrong between us was more than just a childish tantrum. Or maybe that was the problem? You wanted a biddable wife, someone who could never be your equal—except maybe in the bedroom. At least your libido recognizes equality a lot more than you do.”
“My libido rages out of control only with you, glikia mou , and trust me, it’s damned inconvenient when all you want to do is fight instead of making love with me.”
“I don’t want to fight?—”
His harsh laugh stopped her. “You’re doing a cracking impression, baby. As to thinking you were biddable, hell no. Stubborn and extremely infuriating, yes. Biddable? Not in this lifetime.”
“You tried to control me, Nick. When I refused to let you take over my life, you chose to punish me.”
His brows drew together. “Punish you? How did I punish you?”
“Don’t play games with me, please. You know how much I want a child. How much I want a family.”
His head jerked away, his skin paling a little as he stared out over the terrace. For several minutes he didn’t speak. When he turned back, his eyes were shuttered. “And you walked out because you thought I was punishing you by refusing to give you what you wanted?” His tone was devoid of any emotion.
“What was I supposed to think after you made me give up the job I loved, the master’s degree I wanted to take, and then dismissed the subject of children outright without even talking about it?”
“Did you stop to think there might have been reasons for everything? For goodness’ sake, we’d been married only a few months. Was it wrong to want you to concentrate on just us?”
“No, it wasn’t. But refusing to discuss it was. You shut me down again when I mentioned it by the pool. And let’s talk about you continuing to have your life while you expected me to give up mine, shall we? You didn’t give up a single thing, Nick, while I was supposed to turn my life upside down for you, and you gave me nothing in return. God, you wouldn’t even let me redecorate your precious bachelor pad, the place I was expected to live!”
“So your solution was to walk away?” His face was granite hard and his hands balled into fists, as if he held onto civility with a thin thread. “With the expectation that I would run after you and beg you to come back?”
“I guess we’ll never know. I didn’t return, and you didn’t come after me. I’m only here because your sense of duty forced you to bring me here.”
He glared daggers at her. “What if I told you that you were wrong? That not a single day went by that I didn’t want to storm into that excuse for a hovel you chose to hide in and drag you back kicking and screaming?”
Her heart thumped wildly. Then she blinked back foolish tears. “I’d say every single paparazzi shot of you attending a premier or a benefit gala or a polo event with your newest paramour when we were apart makes that statement a lie. And I may be still weak physically, but I’m far from bird-brained. Your actions spoke volumes of how you felt about me leaving. Did you ever even love me, Nick?”
He froze, raw rejection stamped across his face before his features morphed into blank indifference.
Big shock.
She whirled away from him. How could she have voiced the one insecure question she’d held at bay for so long? “I guess I have my answer.”
She started to stalk past him, but he lunged, caught hold of her shoulders, and pulled her to a stop.
“You’re doing it again. You’re walking away from this conversation just as you walked away from us six months ago.”
She lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. “Because there’s nothing left to say, Nick. You don’t love me. The only thing to do is to take our separation to the next level and divorce.”
His indifference receded, replaced by fierce, implacable determination. “There won’t be a next level. You’ve put us both through six months of hell. Then stepped it up by putting yourself in the crosshairs of a dangerous psychopath. I say that gives us plenty to talk about. I won’t let you reduce everything to one question and one answer.”
She shook her head. “Funny, it’s all I can think about now. I don’t really want to talk about anything else.”
“Then just listen. I wanted to come after you six month ago. I did,” he insisted when she started to shake her head dismissively. “But I thought you needed time to adjust to being an Andreakos wife. The pictures you saw in the press, I can’t help those. I wasn’t with those women. The photos were posed. A man in my position has responsibilities, and media placement comes with the territory.” He put a firm hand under her chin and propelled her gaze to his. “But, trust me, I always intended to come after you. If for nothing else, for an explanation as to why you were so determined to end our marriage.”
She withstood his touch, very much aware he hadn’t responded to her question about whether he loved her. And call her a coward, but she didn’t want to probe. She’d never wanted to blurt out the question in the first place. Somewhere inside, she was raw from having her long-time suspicion confirmed that Nick didn’t love her. That he never had.
Sure, he’d said plenty of things in Greek during their marriage
that she’d told herself meant the same thing as “I love you,” but now that she knew the language a little better, she knew they weren’t the same thing at all. “I care about you” or “you’re my heart” wasn’t the same, in any language.
“If you say so.”
His eyes darkened into a flat grey. “You don’t believe me.” The words were dulled, threaded with shock.
She winced. “Come on. You’ve never let a small thing like distance stand in your way. Six months is a long time to keep away from something you claim you want—you managed to talk me into marrying you within weeks! Are you so surprised that I’m finding it hard to believe you didn’t want this separation to continue?”