Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
T he Andreakos jet took off just after nine o’clock the next morning, winging its way to Athens. Despite the frightening intrusion of Richard Francis and Mwana’s gunmen, she hated leaving behind the paradise she’d called home for over two weeks.
She sighed when the island became an insignificant dot far below, but her sadness gave way to elation when Nick’s hand gripped hers, pulling her attention from the window.
Looking into the clear grey of his eyes, a jolt went through her at how much she loved him. Without pausing to think, she laid a hand on his cheek, leaned forward and kissed him—a quick kiss, which grew all the more special when his mouth immediately clung to hers. When she pulled away, she read surprise in his eyes.
“What was that for?” he asked huskily.
“Does a wife need an excuse to kiss her husband?”
He smiled. “No, but I know there’s no such thing as a free lunch.” He winked.
Laughing, she replied. “Take it as an extra sweetener to hold you to your promise to bring us back to Althea soon.”
His smile dimmed and his eyes turned serious. “I won’t break that promise or any other promises I have made to you, matia mou . We’ll return to Althea soon, when it’s safe again.” Picking up her hand, he kissed her palm to seal his promise.
Tears, an ever-threatening presence lately, welled up in her eyes again. She blinked them away. Right now, at this exact moment in time, she was so happy she felt she’d burst.
For one thing, Nick was ecstatic their marriage was back on track. This morning, during the hurried breakfast they’d shared, she’d looked up more than once to find his gaze on the rings, an extremely satisfied look on his face. During the night, she’d woken up to find her left hand clasped firmly in his over his heart as he slept. Tears had threatened then, too.
Whether heartache came with the future or not, she was confident she’d made the right decision.
Halfway through the short flight, Nick excused himself and closeted himself with the five security men who’d boarded the plane with them. The sight of their guns sent a niggle of unease through her. To distract herself, she picked up a magazine and flicked through it.
When Nick returned just before landing, his face was set in a pensive look that sent another shiver down her spine. Under his dark pinstripe suit, his shoulders were tense and his jaw clenched.
She put down the magazine. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been informed the press is waiting at the airport and camped outside our apartment. Since we’re landing at a private tarmac, we should be able to evade them with minimal fuss. However, I think the press conference should be held sooner rather than later. I’d scheduled it for tomorrow morning, but I think under the circumstances, it’s better to bring it forward.” He looked at her, concern stamped on his features. “Will you be able to cope?” he asked.
As long as he was there with her, she’d get through anything. “Yes. Let’s get it over with,” she responded.
He gave a warm smile of approval and nodded to one of
the men seated a few rows behind them. The man picked up the phone and spoke in low tones, presumably to give the go-ahead for the press conference.
Trying to tamp down her nervousness, she took courage in the fact that at least her clothes reflected her stature as Mrs. Nick Andreakos. The sea-green pressed linen suit was one she’d never worn. The skirt ended just above her knee, the design understated but elegant, and she’d teamed it with a cream silk camisole, cream sling-back shoes, and a Prada clutch. Much to Nick’s very vocal objection, she’d put her hair up, securing it with a large clip. The chain she’d worn with her rings and small diamond stud earrings completed the ensemble.
When the Athens skyline came into view, her nervousness increased. This was her first foray into Nick’s world in almost seven months. The last thing she looked forward to was being pounced on by a pack of hungry paparazzi.
“You’ll be fine, baby.”
ATHENS, GREECE
At the airport, Belle and Nick were whisked into a waiting limo and driven straight to the headquarters of Andreakos Shipping.
Belle spent the next hour answering what seemed like a thousand questions. With each passing second, her heart hammered.
The questions were harmless enough, prompting her to be lulled into a state of false security. But the tone soon changed.
One reporter in particular, a sleazy type in an ill-fitting corduroy suit and a comb-over pointed a well-chewed pen at her. “Did you put yourself deliberately in harm’s way to draw attention to yourself, Mrs. Andreakos?”
Shock rendered her speechless for several seconds. Then annoyance made her snap, “Of course not.”
Turning to Nick, she saw the deadly look he directed at the man, who slunk lower in his chair and pretended to scribble furiously on his notepad.
But, as if a gate had been thrown open, the questions came thick and fast: Were you having an affair with the Dutch man, Morgensen? Why did your parents think you were on holiday? Where have you been for the last six months? Are you and your husband separating?
Nick smoothly handled several of the questions, giving the reporters no doubt as to the state of their marriage. A few moments later, his PR man stepped forward. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. That will be all for now.”
Belle’s relief was overwhelming as she was escorted out of the conference room by a stone-faced Nick.
She tried to ignore the ravenous pack still shouting out questions at them.
“Mrs. Andreakos, the man who captured you is wanted by Interpol for various kidnappings and is known to sexually assault his female captors. Why were you spared?”
“The Dutch couple said you were instrumental in saving them from being killed. Do you have a saviour-complex, Mrs. Andreakos?”
“Do you believe sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good? Like say, sacrificing a bishop to save a pawn?”
She stumbled, her hand slipping from Nick’s as her words to Mwana during their last chess game slipped from the reporter’s vile lips.
Nick caught her and clamped her to his side. “What is it?”
The ice that invaded her veins made her shiver uncontrollably.
She opened her mouth but no words came out.
“Never mind. I’m getting you out of here. Now.”
At the continued barrage, Nick threw a terse “no comment” over his shoulder and led her out of the room and into the waiting elevator. Caught in a mental fog, she couldn’t register anything except Nick’s strong arms as he escorted her out of the building and into another limo.
In the car, she tried to hide her shaking hands in her lap, turning to look out of the window as they headed toward Nick’s city apartment. When he placed a firm hand over hers, she focused to find steely grey eyes on her.
“I think our conversation at the springs yesterday needs further elaboration.”
Her heart plummeted. “It was nothing, Nick. Maybe I’m just imagining things.”
“Or maybe not. I saw your reaction to that last question. As soon as we get to the apartment, I want to know, Tinkerbelle.” His tone brooked no argument. But then he added, “Please?” “Y—yes.” She nodded.
He poured a glass of water and held it out to her. Grateful for something to do, she accepted the drink.
Nick’s apartment, like everything else in his life, was top class and drowning in opulence. Housed in an exclusive hotel, the luxurious six-bedroom penthouse sat atop one of Athens’ small hills, overlooking the haunting beauty of the Acropolis.
Tastefully decorated in shades of deep reds and soft creams, the airy rooms were elegant and comfortable but furnished to highlight Nick’s wealth and success.
Their luggage had been deposited in the master bedroom, and in silence, they changed into more casual clothes before Nick led her back to the sitting room.
“Do you want another drink?” he enquired with a lift of his brow.
“Just water, thanks.”
He moved to the drinks cabinet and came back with a glass, seating himself next to her on the plush cream sofa with wine for himself.
The taut silence that ensued lasted less than a minute, but in that time, her nerves frayed with acute rawness.
When he set his glass down, untouched, on the table, she jumped at the sound.
“I know this isn’t easy to talk about, baby, but we have to deal with this. I can’t help you get past it if I don’t know what happened,” he insisted.
She looked into his eyes, drawing strength from the gentle encouragement in them.
“That reporter…what he said about sacrificing for the greater good…the reference to the bishop…I had that discussion with Mwana. Nick, there was no one else there at the time, just the two of us.”
His eyes widened and he finally stopped in front of her. “You think this reporter was another of Mwana’s men?”
“How else could he be quoting our conversation almost verbatim?”
Nick reached for his mobile and pressed one button. “Spiros, have the reporters left?”
His mouth tightened at the answer. “Get me the name of every journalist who attended the press conference. And get the security footage of the conference room ready for Jameson to hand over to the police ASAP.” He hung up and dialled Jameson, relayed the information, then ended the call.
“I should’ve said something then,” she said, despair curling within her, “but I wasn’t sure if my mind was playing tricks on me.”
But now she knew it wasn’t.
Time to tell the whole truth .
Nick shuddered out a breath as he clawed a hand through his hair. “It’s fine, sweetheart, but I just need a minute.” He closed his eyes, cursed, fighting for control for a long moment. When he opened them, he touched her cheek. “Okay. Talk to me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell you the gory details of my last conversation with Mwana because I didn’t want you to get like this.”
“Unfortunately, with every revelation, I just grow hungrier with the need to put this bastard down,” he said, almost to himself. “To think he dared to try to mess with us, here, after what he did on Althea—” The ringing phone interrupted him.
He dropped his hand and cursed the damn phone.
Listening to the solicitous tones of the head chef asking if they were ready to order their afternoon meal, he suppressed ironic laughter. His life was being turned upside down every which way he looked, and he was being asked what he wanted to eat.
Looking over to where his wife stood rubbing her arms, he asked, “Are you ready for lunch?”
An expression crossed her face reflecting the turmoil he felt, but she nodded, “If you are. You can choose something for me.”
He reeled off her favourites to the chef and hung up. “The meal will be up in three quarters of an hour. Enough time to tell me about that last conversation?”
She took a deep breath, then relayed her last conversation with Charles Mwana in a rush of speech. He forced his clenched fists to relax.
“That’s it?”
She nodded. “Nick, just sit for a minute, please? You could also tell me you’re not mad at me,” she suggested with a smile once he was sitting across from her.
Nick’s heart thudded at the sight of her sexy dimples. He gathered her in his arms, her light flowery scent wrapping around his senses. He lowered his head and kissed her lush lips.
“I could get mad at you for endangering yourself, but you weren’t harmed, thank God. I need to remember that and be glad you’re safe and by my side. And frankly, I’m tired of talking. Right now I need to have you naked in my arms. It feels like a lifetime since I made love to you.” He needed to hold her close, to affirm life after having yet another confirmation rammed home of how close he’d come to losing her.
“We made love this morning, right before breakfast.”
“As I said, a lifetime.”
She returned his kiss, her slim body melting into his like it was made for him. Which it was…
“What about lunch?”
He groaned and glanced at his watch. “We have forty minutes. I guess I’ll have to settle for a quickie.”
He tugged her close and kissed her. Before mindless delirium took over, he swore to find the appropriate time to share the unfamiliar feelings threatening to take over his life. Maybe Belle could make sense of them, because he sure as hell couldn’t.
For now though, he’d tell her with his body.