He picked up the glass of tepid water he’d set on the table next to him and ran his tongue back and forth along the edge.
You should never have interfered in my life, Mr. White Knight. Because now I am going to interfere in yours.
He felt like a child anticipating the arrival of Santa Claus. He simply couldn’t wait to start the festivities.
GEMMA SIPPED her first cup of coffee and looked out at the port of Valletta and its magnificent skyline. Parts of the film Munich had been shot there, and Valletta’s St. John’s Co-Cathedral boasted the largest single work by the great painter Caravaggio.
As an architecture buff, thanks to her father, she wished fleetingly that she could go ashore to see some of the historic structures and Baroque buildings constructed by the Knights of Malta.
But she’d have plenty of opportunities to sightsee on a different cruise, one where she wasn’t an intern.
Gemma turned at the tap on her shoulder and saw a boy who couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than she was. Wow—he’s tall, too. And good-looking.
He was dressed in the white uniform of the ship’s crew, and his dark hair was slicked back from his face, as if he’d recently showered and come on duty. He smiled at her and handed her a sealed envelope with Aunt Helena’s name on it.
“I was told to give you this.”
“By whom?” Gemma frowned.
“Another crew member, with the purser’s desk.”
“Oh. Okay.” Why would they deliver a note with Helena’s name on it to her niece? It struck Gemma as odd.
In response to her puzzled expression, the boy said, “He told me that it was personal and from the captain, to be delivered right away, and he wasn’t able to locate Miss Stamos. He suggested you might know where she was?”
“Well…yes. I do, since I’m about to meet her for breakfast. So I’ll give her the letter. Thank you.”
The boy nodded. “I’ve seen you in the children’s center during the day. You’re great with the kids.”
Charmed, Gemma blushed and stammered, “Th-thanks. See you around, okay?”
“Hope so.” He smiled and waved goodbye.
Gemma found Aunt Helena in the Espresso bar, looking high-strung, as if she hadn’t slept the night before. “Aunt H?”
Helena managed to produce a smile for her, and kissed her on both cheeks. “I wanted to say goodbye,” she told Gemma. “I’m leaving the ship this morning. A limo will be at the dock for me just before noon.”
“You’re what? Why? Why aren’t you staying for the rest of the cruise?” Gemma was dumbfounded.
“It’s just best that I leave.”
“Why?”
Helena shook her head. “It’s that or the brig,” she said lightly.
“The brig? What are you talking about?”
“Just kidding. Honestly, I’m getting a little stir-crazy aboard this ship and I need to get off.”
Gemma narrowed her eyes at her aunt. “This has something to do with all the guards and security. Tell me what’s going on. Is Captain Pappas making you leave because of those threats you mentioned?”
Aunt Helena’s chin came up and her eyes flashed. “Captain Pappas cannot make me do anything.”
“Uh-huh.” Gemma watched her aunt play with the thin gold bangles on her wrists. They were funky and hand-hammered. Each one had a different-colored gemstone set into it somewhere along the diameter. Helena seemed upset and distracted. “You know what I think? I think you two had a fight.”
“We did not have a fight.” Helena stopped playing with the bracelets and fiddled instead with her tiny espresso spoon.
“You look like you were up all night.”
“Slept like a baby, Gem.” Helena’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Well, if you did have a fight, maybe this is an apology.” Gemma extended the envelope to her. “A crew member gave it to me to pass along to you. He said it’s personal, from the captain.”
Helena all but snatched it out of her hand, then stopped and bit her lip. “Thanks, Gemma.” She looked at her niece ruefully. “You’re right. I’ve been in a stew about Nick, and he did ask me to leave, and I’m not happy about it. Sorry.”
“Are they making me leave, too?”
“No. The threats seem to be directed at me.”
“Oh.” Gemma drew her brows together, concerned. “Well, then it’s probably a good thing that you’re getting off the ship.”
Helena scowled. “We’ll see about that.” She slipped her finger under the flap of the envelope. “This is all a big fuss over nothing.”
Gemma nodded and watched as Helena pulled out the sheet of paper and scanned it quickly. She seemed to relax.
“So did he apologize?” She shouldn’t pry, but she was curious.
“It sounds as if he’s going to.” Helena folded the note back up and shoved it into her pocket. She sat back and sipped at her espresso without fidgeting, like a normal person.
Her aunt had always been one of those small, hummingbirdlike people, full of nervous energy and darting around. But Gemma had rarely seen her in the state she’d been in this morning. “You must really care about him, Aunt H. Are you going to keep dating him?”
Helena’s tiny cup clattered into her saucer. “No, Gem. Don’t be silly. I live in London and he lives on Alexandra’s Dream. I’m a creative type and he’s a by-the-book, buttoned-up, ex-military type. It would never work out. Besides, I don’t want to marry anybody. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt—as the Americans say.”
Wow. That was a lot of excuses that had just come pouring out of her aunt H’s mouth. Just one would have done the trick, Gemma thought as she sipped at her espresso. Suppressing a smile, she set down the cup. “Well. Sorry you’re leaving. When will I see you again? Can I come to London in the fall and visit you?”
“Of course you can, sweetheart.” Helena jumped up and put her arms around her. “But I hope we’ll run into each other before that. And I want to tell you how proud I am of you. You’re amazing with those children. Your mother would be proud, too. I can report to her that she’s raised a daughter who’s not only beautiful and kind, but great at her job.”
Gemma hugged her aunt right back. “Thanks. Well, take care, okay?”
“Of course. I always do, Gem. Love you.” And Helena blew her a kiss before walking away. Gemma watched as she ran a hand over the pocket with the note in it.
Gemma grinned. No matter what she said, Auntie H was in love with the handsome captain.
CHAPTER TWENTY
HELENA PICKED HER WAY between the packed suitcases to the mirror over the dresser in her suite. She’d put on a sleeveless, cherry-red silk blouse that tied at the waist, over the band of her long, navy-blue gypsy skirt. She’d chosen silver jewelry—the masks of tragedy and comedy suspended on a simple chain around her neck—and silver ballet flats. She finger-combed her hair and powdered her nose. She added just a touch of perfume behind each ear before dropping the bottle into her carry-on bag. Then she went into the bathroom to get her red lipstick.
It hardly mattered, since she was probably only saying goodbye to Nick. But she intended to leave a lasting impression on the man.
His note had been clipped and formal, just like him. So what else did he want to discuss about their relationship? The end of it? Or was he going to apologize? Would he ask to see her again? Perhaps he wished to visit her in London?
And was that a good idea? She didn’t know. Now that she’d gotten over her fit of temper, she wasn’t sure of anything at all. Except that she had disturbing feelings for Nick.
He’d claimed that with one glance at her, he’d fallen in love all over again. But was love enough when two people were so different? Did she love him back? And could she trust him?
Nick had walked out of her life fifteen years ago. Perhaps he had sent letters, as he claimed, but that didn’t change the fact that without a word of goodbye, without waking her, he’d just disappeared.
Helena opened the door, switched off the light and then fingered the note in her pocket as she headed for Nick’s room.
As she took the elevator down to his floor and started along the hallway, she wondered why Nick hadn’t just called her. It was a little odd…but the note had rung with Nick’s formality, and had been hand-delivered to her niece by a uniformed crew member who’d said it was from the captain.
Helena passed the rooms of other officers and finally reached Nick’s. She stared at the door, swallowed and raised her hand to knock. “Nick? It’s me.”
The door opened, but the room was dark inside. A masculine hand took hers. In the light from the hallway, Helena took note of the fact that it was smaller and paler than Nick’s, and the knuckles were hairy. Oh, dear God.
She jerked back and opened her mouth to scream, but the male hand gripped her like a vise, yanked her into the room as if she were a rag doll and slammed the door. The man, whoever he was, knocked her against the wall and pinned her there by the throat. Then he pressed a cloth soaked in some chemical—ether?—against her face and everything went black.
HELENA AWOKE MUZZILY on a wave of nausea, accompanied by a dull headache. Her mouth felt as if it had been recently filled with sand. She might as well have been hungover. As she slowly returned to consciousness, she became aware that her shoulders and neck rang with pain, as did her wrists. They were tied behind her back and her hands were almost numb.
She lay on her side on the room’s bed, and her skirt was rucked up almost to her waist, so that the man watching her from a chair across the room had a good view of her panties. He seemed to like that.
She didn’t.
“Scream, and I’ll kill you,” he said. “I’ll snap your neck like a chicken bone.” Then he smiled at her, and Helena shivered.
His expression chilled her to the core. He was clean-shaven, with sparse sandy hair and a complexion like sautéed liver. He had a pinched nose too small for the rest of his broad features. His eyes, too, seemed undersize for his face: little, black, soulless holes. They looked like a shark’s, except they weren’t as alive. No, his eyes were like the old cigar burns she’d once seen on a bar counter in Athens.
“Did you sleep well, Miss Stamos?” the man asked, his voice overly polite. She focused on his mouth instead of his words. He had wide, fleshy lips that made her skin crawl.
“Answer me, you little whore.” He got up and moved toward her, his white, hairy fingers flexing.
Petrified, she didn’t know what to say. But he seemed to expect her to say something, since he looked more threatening by the second. She tried to free her sticky tongue from the roof of her mouth and watched in horror as he came closer.
Dear God, what is he going to do to me? She tried not to succumb to blind panic.
“I told you to answer!” he snapped. He fumbled with his belt buckle.
She swallowed a sob of sheer fear. “F-fine. I slept w-well.” She hated the way her voice shook. “P-please don’t hurt me. My father—he will pay anything you ask….”
“I don’t want his money, you stupid little bitch. You don’t have a clue as to why you’re here, do you?”
She shook her head and struggled to sit up, sliding her legs over the side of the bed. She took some strange comfort from the contact of her bare feet with the solid floor, but she was unable to pull down her skirt, and his eyes drilled into the flesh of her thighs.
He made her feel dirtier with that one look than she’d ever felt in her life. “You were the one in my room.”
“Yes.” His lips stretched into another unpleasant smile, this one of satisfaction.
“Why?”
“Why not?” He dropped his hands from the belt buckle—thank God—and spread them, palms up.
He threw back his head and laughed, while she grew colder and colder inside.
“Look, you may have fixated on my picture from the society rags…”
His sneer became even more pronounced and he shook his head. “I am not fixated on you. You aren’t much to look at, all skin and bones and little tits. Why the hell would I obsess?”
She stared at him, confounded.
He laughed. “Oh, you thought this was all about you? What a vain little whore you are.”
“I don’t understand.” But a small kernel of relief began to blossom within her. He wasn’t attracted to her. So that had to mean he wasn’t going to rape her.
“Of course you don’t understand.” He walked to the small birch table near the cabin’s sliding doors and picked up a decanter. He poured himself a tumbler full of what looked like whiskey.
“Then why…” She lurched to her feet, wobbling a little, but relieved that her skirt fell to cover her.
In an instant he’d crossed the room and in a flash of fleshy white, backhanded her. She fell across the bed, crying out, but he muffled the sound by crashing down on her and covering her mouth.
Helena, shaking, drew in as much air through her nose as possible, inhaling more of that hideous sweet, smoky musk. She wanted to cry and vomit at the same time.
His big, swollen body pressed hers down into the mattress, his flesh warm and damp, his breath unspeakable. She closed her eyes against his expression and tried to transfer her thoughts somewhere else.
“Don’t you move or speak without my permission, or I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.”
Tears leaked from under her eyelids and she shook her head to let him know that she wouldn’t make a sound.
He exhaled with satisfaction and heaved himself off the bed, leaving her sprawled there, her shoulders and arms and wrists in agony under her body. God alone knew what he would do next.
He settled himself back into his chair, drink in hand, and just stared at her.
“Why?” she finally asked, her voice still raspy from tears. “Why are you doing this?”
“I have my reasons.”
She began to shake again. What reasons? What did I ever do to deserve this?
He held the glass to his lips and ran his tongue back and forth along the edge, like some kind of large, white lizard. He left a pasty trail of slime on the rim.
She wanted to lose consciousness so that she didn’t have to think about this. But the ether was long gone and only the dull headache and dry mouth remained. Helena closed her eyes again.
“Look at me, bitch.”
No telling what he’d do to her if she didn’t. She focused on his fleshy face and evil, leering eyes.
“Yes, that’s right. Take a good look, because I will be the last thing you ever see. But first, we will have some fun, you and I. And your pompous boyfriend is going to watch. Then I’ll kill him, too.”
She struggled upright, half gasping and half sobbing. Nick? No, he can’t hurt Nick.
“Ah. I see that I now have your undivided attention. Excellent. Yes, the good captain is in for quite a show tonight.”
He’s going to rape me while he forces Nick to watch. A feeling of disbelief enveloped her. Surely nobody could be that evil.
She looked at the telephone sitting on the nightstand. Torture, pure torture, to have it next to her and not be able to dial it, get help.
“Who are you?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”
He considered her for a long moment, then shrugged. “My name is Manolis. That is all you need to know.”
She’d heard the name before. Frantically she tried to think of where. And then it dawned on her. She remembered the phone ringing in Nick’s quarters. Hello, Mrs. Manolis, he’d said. The unknown Eva who had called him to warn him. The woman had been right.
And Nick had shrugged off her warning, confident that the ship’s security was sufficient to stop the man from boarding.
She looked around the room and saw…hair? On top of the dresser lay a whitish toupee and a mustache to match. A walker stood next to the dress
er. Manolis had disguised himself as an older man. Probably he was traveling under an assumed identity.
Her thoughts darted back to the day she’d boarded Alexandra’s Dream. A walker had jabbed her in the leg…. Oh, I beg your pardon, madam…. Coincidence? It must have been, at that point, but it made her shiver.
He looked at his watch, growing impatient to get on with his horrible plan.
Helena had to find a way to warn Nick. She had to get out of here. But how? Her hands were almost completely numb, not to mention that they were bound.
The only weapons she had were her brain, her mouth and her looks, with which he was clearly unimpressed.
Think. Think, Helena. “Mr. Manolis, please don’t do this.”
He laughed again.
“You don’t want to go to jail, do you?”
“Shut up.”
If she could only get him to free her hands, there might be some hope of escape. “If it’s sex you want,” she said, her voice shaking, “I will sleep with you. Just don’t kill—”
“I told you to shut up, whore!” he snarled. His hands went to his belt again, ripped it from the loops. Then he hit her on the legs with the belt. She cried out, and he cursed, throwing his body on top of hers for the second time. His hand clamped over her mouth and nose and she couldn’t breathe.
This is it. He’s going to rape me and kill me. But at least Nick won’t have to watch. That would destroy him.
Manolis dragged her off the bed in a headlock and over to the dresser. He wrenched open a drawer and snatched a pair of Nick’s socks. Then he stuffed them into her mouth.
He threw her toward the bed again, but somehow she managed to get her footing. She scuttled past the nightstand and dove toward the bathroom, knowing even as she did so that it was no use.
He grabbed a fold of her skirt and ripped it. Then he swooped down and caught her around the middle.
Karen Kendall - An Affair to Remember Page 15
