Secret Paradise (Kimani Romance) (8 page)

Chapter 9

S
he was his dream and his torment, Lucian thought as he stood at his bedroom window and gazed down at Nikki, who stood on her balcony, looking sublimely serene and beautiful. For an instant he imagined showering her with rose petals, being beside her and gathering her close, pressing his mouth to hers, but he let those thoughts quickly fade away, knowing he could never be close to her. He saw her lift her head and take a deep breath and imagined her inhaling the scent of the sea and the fragrance of the flowers around her. Lucian briefly closed his eyes and imagined saying her name in the manner he wished to—as her lover.
Nikki. My darling Nikki.

He opened his eyes and saw her turn her head, but he knew it was from the sound of the breeze whispering through the leaves, not because of him. She’d never answer to his call. He glanced down at his scarred hand, seeing its deformed ugliness. How could he have thought to reveal himself to her?

She created beauty. Was beauty. All she could offer him were apologies and pity. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let himself get close again. Seared in his memory were the sound of her aborted scream and how she’d recoiled from his touch. At that moment he’d wanted to feel her soft skin against his even more. To have her desire him as a woman desired a man. But he’d been foolish to dream—foolish to hope. He’d been without a woman too long, Lucian tried to convince himself, and she’d just triggered a weakness. That was all. She was just a brief infatuation. She had to be.

Keeping her away not only kept him safe, but it kept her safe, too. He knew there was more to the night of the fire, and he was getting close to exacting his revenge. But there were still more things to do, and one more puzzle piece to uncover. No, he could pay to have a woman pretend to find him handsome and alluring, pay to keep her face from curling in disgust. He knew money could purchase a lot of things, and he also knew what his money couldn’t buy. Lucian pressed his hand against the window and gazed at Nikki one more time before he turned away.

Basilio lay in bed and stared up into the darkness. Usually after a night of lovemaking he had no trouble falling asleep. Not tonight. How had a Ghanaian head wrap shown up for Nikki to find? And why did she mention Alana? He sensed an interest in her that seemed more than idle curiosity. He hated thinking of that night and having to lie, and Nikki had him asking himself questions he didn’t want to ask. He hated questions with no quick answers. It was probably nothing. He felt soft feminine arms circle him as Iona pressed her body against his.

“You’re frowning again,” she said.

“The lights are off. How can you tell?”

She traced his lips with her finger. “I just can. You’re worried about something. What is it?”

Basilio shook his head. “Just work.”

“So your brother still doesn’t know about us?”

“If he did, I wouldn’t be here,” he said, referring to the empty villa where they met for their affair.

“You mean you’d leave me?”

“I mean you’d be out of a job and probably forced to find work on the mainland.”

“Then I’m glad he doesn’t know.”

“I’ll tell him soon.”

“Not too soon,” she said quickly. “I like what we have. It makes me feel safe. With no one knowing about us, no one can interfere.”

“You have a point, but I hate keeping secrets from my brother.”

Iona’s hand slid down his thigh. “Even ones that feel this good?”

Basilio felt himself grow hard and his concerns and worries slipping away. “You have a point. I’m getting used to the idea.”

She stroked him in his most tender place. “Tell me what’s really bothering you.”

He groaned. “How can I be bothered about anything when you’re doing that?”

“Tell me,” she whispered, her fingers stroking him even more and heightening his arousal.

“I was just thinking about the fire.”

“Why? We all know what happened.”

“Not everything.” He reached for her. “No more questions.”

She drew away slightly, confused. “Why are you thinking about the fire again?”

“Nikki asked me some questions about Alana.”

“What kind of questions?”

“It doesn’t matter now. You’re driving me insane.”

“She’s an attractive woman.”

Basilio didn’t care. “I don’t think about her like that. Only you. Always you.”

“But—”

He stopped her with a kiss. He wanted Iona and could no longer take her teasing him. He drew her close and found sweet release between her legs. When it was over the second time, he was able to sleep. But he didn’t dream about Iona.

Nikki returned to the house from a brisk morning jog and saw Iona in the hallway. She decided to be polite, so she smiled at her. “Good morning,” she said in a bright voice.

“Morning,” Iona replied coolly.

“I’m parched. Could you get me—”

“I don’t take orders from you.”

“Excuse me?” Nikki said, surprised by the woman’s vehement refusal to fulfill such a simple request. “I thought you worked here.”

“I don’t work for you.” She set down her duster and sauntered over to Nikki like a panther. “I see how you eye this house. You want to become mistress of it. You wouldn’t be the first who wanted that.”

Nikki stood firm, determined not to be intimidated, although there was something about the other woman that put her on edge. “I’m not here because of any romantic designs. I’m here because I was hired to do a job.”

“Doesn’t matter why you’re here. You’ll never be mistress. No woman will be. Mr. Kontos will never get over Alana.”

“I think he can recover from a crazy woman who burns down his house.”

Iona’s lips thinned. “She wasn’t crazy. She was murdered.”

Nikki folded her arms to keep from trembling.
Murdered?
“By who?”

“Who else?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

“If you believe that, then why do you still work here?”

“I have nothing to fear. But you do. Don’t stay here. It’s a warning. Your only warning.”

It didn’t seem possible. Basilio had told her that people had their own version of events, but he’d never mentioned this one. But it was groundless. Nikki tossed the idea aside. Iona was just trying to frighten her because she didn’t like her for some reason. She wouldn’t let that intimidate her.

“You’re not here to give warnings,” Nikki said boldly, meeting Iona’s stare. “You’re here to work, and I’m sure getting me a drink is part of it.”

Iona’s eyes turned to onyx and her voice to ice. “You don’t want to tangle with me. I told you. I don’t take orders from you—”

“Since when?” a male voice cut in.

The two women turned and saw Dante coming around the corner. Nikki hadn’t had much interaction with him. He was a solid, quiet figure who traveled through the house with intense purpose. Yet he didn’t make her feel uneasy. He was always accommodating and kind. He had the kind of face that belonged on a bronze coin—imposing, regal, striking. He was of medium height but carried himself as if he were a foot taller. She’d learned that he was Italian, but he had none of their reputed charm. There was a rigid hardness about him that made him seem much older than a man in his late twenties.

His dark eyes met Iona’s. His voice was firm. “You’ll do as she asks.”

“But I’m needed in the upper rooms,” Iona said with an ingratiating smile. “Pardon me,” she said, then gave a faux curtsy before slipping away.

Dante said something under his breath. Nikki couldn’t make out the words but could imagine their meaning.

Nikki rubbed her arms, as if she’d just felt a cold blast. “She’s awful. Why does Lucian keep her? Do you know that she thinks
he
killed Alana?”

“Silly rumors. I’m sorry about that and I apologize for her disrespect,” Dante said in a curt, but polite tone, expertly sidestepping her questions. “What do you need?”

“I just wanted to get something to drink,” Nikki said, remembering that she was thirsty. Something about Dante made her feel relaxed and at ease. “I just came back from a jog along the beach. It’s so beautiful early in the morning. Don’t worry,” she said, wanting to stop a potential lecture. “I was careful, as Basilio warned.”

“Warned?”

“Yes, he told me about the smugglers.”

Dante gripped his hand into a fist, then relaxed it. “He shouldn’t have told you about that. You don’t have to worry about smuggling or any other criminal activity on this island. Kontos makes sure that all his guests are safe.”

“I’m sure Basilio was just trying to be entertaining.”

“Then he needs to try harder.”

Nikki moved to the side, ready to leave. “I’ll just go to my room and—”

Dante did the same, blocking her. “Are you sure you want only a drink?”

Nikki looked at him, curious.

“Because I could have a bath drawn for you,” he hastily continued. “And perhaps I could have a morning snack prepared for you afterward, which I could have delivered to your room and have waiting on the balcony.”

The man certainly knew how to please. “That would be wonderful.”

He clasped his hands behind him and nodded. “If you have any more trouble with the staff or anyone, you let me know.”

“I will,” Nikki said, then went upstairs.

Dante watched her go, then walked outside and lit a cigarette. He then stopped and saw Basilio talking to a member of the staff of one of the other villas. He waited until the conversation was over before he approached him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Basilio smiled. “Good morning to you, too.”

Dante gritted his teeth. “You had no right frightening Nikki.”

“You mean Ms. Rozan,” Basilio said, reminding Dante of his position.

Dante took a long drag of his cigarette. “She allows me to call her by her given name.”

“Lucky you,” Basilio said in a mocking tone.

“Why is everything a joke to you?”

“It’s not and I didn’t frighten Nikki.”

“You told her about smuggling.”

Basilio paused. “It was nothing and I have better things to do than talk to you about it.” He turned, bored with the conversation.

Dante grabbed his arm, his voice cold. “It was careless.”

Basilio yanked his arm away. “Remember your place, Dante.”

“I’ll never forget it. I don’t take anything for granted.”

Basilio grinned. “And you think that I do?”

Dante stomped out his cigarette, wishing it was Basilio’s face. He hated the man’s smile. “I know that you do. And that will be your downfall.”

Nikki strolled through the foyer after a relaxing shower and a delightful snack, feeling ready to start the day. She was making progress with her sketches, although the owner of the house was proving harder to pin down. It had been three days since the night on the terrace, and she hadn’t seen him. She was thinking of this when she saw Callia, looking miserable as she sat in one of the empty rooms, stroking Pauline. Kay sat beside her, knitting.

Nikki walked over to the girl. “What’s wrong?”

“My mother’s coming.”

Nikki hesitated. “And that’s not a good thing?”

“No.”

“When is she coming?”

“In a month. I don’t want to see her, but if I have to, please don’t leave me alone with her.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. You’ll have Kay. I may not be here.” Nikki knew her days would end sooner than expected if something didn’t change. Lucian had ignored her request to speak to him about her designs. He was making her job as difficult as possible.

“You’ll be here,” Callia said without concern. “Please stay when she comes. You can pretend to be measuring a wall or something. Just don’t leave me with her.”

“All right,” Nikki agreed, although she didn’t think there was anything she could do. “But if she asks me to leave, I’ll have to.”

“She won’t even notice you.” Callia pulled out her cell phone and sent a message. “She never notices staff.”

Dante appeared, apparently responding to Callia’s message. “Yes?” he said.

Callia put her phone away. “When my mother comes, where will you put her when she first arrives?”

“The sitting room off to the—”

Callia shook her head. “No, make it the conservatory, please.”

“Okay.” Dante nodded.

“And no drinks until the late afternoon.”

“But if she asks—”

“Tell her you’re out and need to get a new supply. She’ll believe you.”

Dante raised his brows, amused. “Any more instructions?”

“No. Nikki will be with me, pretending to work. After an hour give us an excuse to leave.”

“Now, Ms. Callia—”

“Dante, please.”

“You should respect your mother more,” Kay said.

Callia turned to her. “No one asked you.”

“Manners, Callia,” Kay said softly, unfazed by the girl’s rudeness.