by Andie Brock
Craning her neck, she gazed up at the old buildings with their wrought-iron balconies and wooden shutters flaking with peeling paint. She wondered what it would be like to live there, whether the people behind those walls were happy. Everybody had their problems—she knew that. Sometimes she just felt as if she had more than her fair share.
As they approached a low bridge Kate turned to look at the gondolier. Standing on the stern, he was going to have to be careful not to bang his head. They were gliding ever closer, and he seemed to be paying no heed, but at the last second he gave her a wink and ducked his head. Smiling, Kate turned back to the front—and immediately found herself caught in the glare of Nikos’s penetrating gaze, with the shadow of the bridge crossing his face as they glided underneath.
His expression was hard to read—neither cold nor friendly, but more like deliberately watchful, as if he wanted her to know that he noticed everything...even a cheeky wink from a Venetian gondolier.
Since that night on the steps of the Sacré-Coeur, there had been no more in-depth conversations, no more mention of her family, for which Kate was very grateful. Nikos’s brutal assessment of her mother had wound her tighter than a sprung coil, just as he had intended it to, but deep down she could see that his views were justified. Fiona had treated him appallingly.
So had she, come to that.
Maybe if she had been able to explain her mother’s situation to Nikos things would have been different. But Fiona had made her swear that under no circumstances was Kate ever to tell anyone about her condition. Trying to reason with her, impress upon her the fact that mental illness was nothing to be ashamed of, had had the reverse effect, with her mother becoming increasingly hysterical because Kate wanted to tell everyone that she was ‘crazy’. That she wouldn’t be happy until her mother had been locked away.
So Kate had obeyed her and kept quiet. It was her mother’s illness after all, not hers. She’d had to respect her wishes.
Kate’s relationship with Fiona had always been a difficult one. As a child she had accepted that her mother was ‘delicate’—that she would sometimes spend days in bed, suffering with headaches, baffling mood swings. Her father had impressed upon Kate that her mom had to be treated with the utmost care, obeyed at all times and kept calm. It hadn’t been until she was a teenager that Kate had realised there was a medical reason for all that. Fiona suffered from anxiety and depression.
As the face of Kandy Kate, Kate had spent her young life on a constant round of photo shoots and advertising campaigns, all orchestrated by her mother. This role, it seemed, was the one thing that had given Fiona a focus, helped keep her demons at bay. So Kate had done as she was told.
When other kids had been out on their bikes, she’d been having her nails manicured. When they’d been having fun at sleepovers, she’d been tucked up in bed. Because her mother had insisted on her looking perfect at all times. It had almost felt as if Fiona’s life depended on it.
The pattern of subservience to her mother had continued all through Kate’s teenage years and into her early twenties. With her father’s unconditional love she had had at least one parent she could turn to for a cuddle, for comfort and advice. But Bernie had also had Fiona’s moods to consider, and because Kate had wanted to try and make life easier for him she had striven to be the perfect daughter. Never once had she rocked the boat.
She’d been twenty-three when her father had suggested she come into the business with him. Having studied photography at university, she’d fancied a career travelling the world, doing photo shoots in faraway exotic locations. But duty had called. Her father had needed her.
So they had struck a deal. Kate would go travelling for three months, and then join the firm when she returned.
Fiona, however, had not been happy with this arrangement. She’d seen no reason for Kate to go ‘gallivanting off’ to Europe. She’d thought there was nothing to be gained by letting her go, and that Bernie was simply ‘indulging’ his daughter.
Maybe she’d feared that Kate would never come back—who knew? But for once Bernie had put his foot down, insisting that Kate was to be allowed this one taste of freedom. He and Fiona had fought—a terrible row that had seen Fiona sobbing and screaming all night, punctuated only by Bernie’s angry voice. A booming tone that Kate had never heard before.
Desperate to make peace, Kate had offered to abort her travel plans immediately. But her father had had none of it. He had insisted she was still going. That her mother would get over it. That everything would be all right.
But of course it hadn’t been all right. Six weeks later, when Kate had been having so much fun, free from the shackles of Kandy Kate, revelling in her freedom, falling in love, her father had had a heart attack. From which he had never recovered.
Returning to New York, Kate had found her mother in a dangerously unstable state, hurling accusations at her, saying that she was responsible for her father’s heart attack. That it would never have happened if Kate hadn’t been such a selfish, irresponsible child, going off to Europe and causing so much trouble.
Racked with worry and crippling grief since Bernie had died, Kate had soon had guilt to contend with too. She’d known her priority had to be her mother. That she’d have to do everything she could to try and help Fiona through this—stop her from sliding into utter despair. Her own heartache would have to be put aside. At least for the time being.
Nikos, too, had had to be locked away in her heart. And Kate had vowed keep him there until the dust had settled. Until she could find the right time. Until Fiona was strong enough to hear the news that she had fallen in love with a carefree Greek Adonis. That she was engaged to be married.
Kate had known for certain that her mother would need a lot of careful handling on that one...
But then Nikos had turned up and put the cat amongst the pigeons. With Fiona’s reaction to their engagement predictably volatile, Kate had stepped between them, taking the verbal blows as Fiona had demanded to know what Kate thought she was doing, bringing this good-for-nothing creature into their family, being so stupid as to imagine she could marry such a man. Didn’t Kate realise he was only after her money? Hadn’t Kate done enough damage already?
She had already killed her father. Did she want to have her mother’s death on her conscience too?
She didn’t really mean it, Kate had told herself. It was the shock talking... Intense grief coupled with Fiona’s fragile mental health made her say those hurtful things.
But it had still been a desperate situation, and Kate had known she had to focus all her attention on her mother. She simply hadn’t had the energy to worry about Nikos right then. Hadn’t he made everything worse by turning up uninvited, anyway?
So Kate had pushed him away, minimised his significance in her life as she’d battled to cope with the trauma all around her. She’d seen the hurt in those deep brown eyes but had refused to process it. She hadn’t been able to cope with any more stress. Nikos was strong...their love was strong, or so she’d thought. Later she would explain, make it up to him. Her mother was her top priority.
And on top of all that there had been something else niggling away at Kate. When exactly had she had her last period? She hadn’t been able to remember for sure, but knew it must have been before her father was taken ill. The thought of telling Fiona she was pregnant with Nikos’s baby was too stressful to contemplate. Her mother would go berserk.
Kate had genuinely started to worry that Fiona’s prediction might come true. She might be responsible for her mother’s death, too.
So Kate had squashed down any excitement, banished any silly dreams about the beautiful baby she and Nikos might have, and convinced herself the test had to be negative. Which was why she’d been so relieved when it was. She had genuinely thought Nikos would be too. How wrong she had been!
His bitter, vicious reaction had taken her completely by surp
rise. To this day she still didn’t know what had triggered it. But she had no intention of asking him now. You didn’t poke a hornets’ nest unless you wanted to get stung.
Even though they had both refrained from dragging up the past again since Paris, Nikos was far from letting Kate off the hook. The whole time they had been together on this phony honeymoon—wherever they went, whatever they did—he monitored her every move, his eyes all over her, all the time. Part alarming, part seductive, Kate didn’t know which was the scarier emotion. But she did know that the power of those deep brown eyes set her body on fire, quickening her pulse, tightening her core, and that whenever she looked up to find him staring at her she felt the sweep of his gaze skitter over her skin.
Like right now.
The vibe between them here in Venice was different, somehow. Last night they had actually dined together, just the two of them, in a gorgeous little trattoria tucked away down a side canal, far from the hustle and bustle of the glitzy tourist spots. To Kate’s surprise there had been no photographers either, but she had resisted the temptation to ask Nikos why this was and given herself permission to relax and actually enjoy the evening.
They’d kept away from the danger topics and conversation had flowed freely, Nikos making Kate laugh with his irreverent sense of humour, reminding her of the man she had first met and fallen for so hard and so fast. But at the end of the night the shutters had clattered down again. The heady cocktail of desire and longing that had been swirling around them all evening had been pushed firmly back into its box.
Kate was left with the scary realisation that she had absolutely no idea what went on in the darkly handsome head of Nikos Nikoladis. But she did know that as the days passed, the more time she spent in his company, the more temptingly dangerous it felt.
All too soon their gondola trip was over, and as they arrived back at the dock the gondolier leapt onto the wooden steps and held out a hand to Kate. Thanking him with her few words of Italian, Kate smiled as he kissed her hand, bowing with a theatrical flourish before helping her ashore.
With his back towards her, Nikos was giving the man a tip—a surprising amount, judging by the look on the gondolier’s face. Nikos said something—Kate couldn’t make out what—and the two men shook hands.
‘So...’ Nikos took Kate’s arm to guide her up the steps. ‘Am I to be constantly warning off your amorous suitors when we are out together?’
‘What do you mean?’ She looked at him in surprise.
‘Well, it seems that wherever we go you have men flirting outrageously with you.’
‘Don’t exaggerate.’ Kate gave a small laugh, adjusting the neck of her blouse. ‘It’s just the Italian way.’
‘Hmm...’ Nikos mused quietly. ‘And what if I don’t like it?’
They were walking arm in arm towards St Mark’s Square, and it was funny how natural that felt, but Nikos’s remark halted Kate’s step.
‘Why would you care?’ She turned her green eyes to meet his, her question gentler than she’d expected. The feminist in her was obviously taking a day off.
‘I’m not sure.’ Nikos held her gaze. ‘I’ve been asking myself the same question.’
‘And have you come up with an answer?’
‘Not really, no.’ Nikos started walking again. ‘Sometimes it’s best not to overanalyse these things.
That was probably good advice. Kate had no desire to analyse why his unexpected possessiveness curled so warmly inside her.
They entered the famous square, pigeons scattering at their feet.
‘What did you say to that gondolier, anyway?’ She brought herself back into line.
‘I told him to back off if he knew what was good for him.’
‘You didn’t!’ Kate stared at him in outrage.
‘Or maybe I just thanked him for an excellent trip. Which do you think it was, Kate?’
‘I... I don’t know.’
But one look at the supercilious smirk on Nikos’s face and she did know. He was winding her up. God, he was infuriating.
‘Shall we get a cup of coffee?’ He gestured to the crowded café tables at the sides of the square.
Kate shook her head. ‘I want to take a few more photos, but you go ahead.’
What she really wanted was some space to draw a badly needed breath, to try and numb the alarming effect he was having on her. This provocative, teasing Nikos was messing with her head even more than the coldly calculating one she had been faced with at the start of their grand tour. And not just her head...
Kate could feel his dangerous presence insidiously invading every part of her body, further wearing down her defences with every hour that passed. Weakening them with every wicked glint from those midnight eyes, every purposeful twitch of that seductive mouth, every gesture of those expressive hands.
There was no doubt that he was still the most drop-dead gorgeous man she had ever met in her life. His beauty held her spellbound, the sheer perfection of him captivating her as surely as a net thrown over a helpless animal. But what Kate felt for Nikos went way deeper than physical attraction. Somehow he had touched a part of her she hadn’t even known existed. Awakened something she hadn’t known was there. And now it refused to die.
If Kate had ever thought she could escape from the hold he had over her she now knew she’d been wrong. And, scarier still, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to.
Making herself concentrate on taking pictures, Kate strolled around the square, shading her eyes to gaze up at the soaring bell tower, admiring the way the sunlight glinted off the gilded flanks of the four enormous horses above the entrance to the Basilica. There was no shortage of things to photograph—everywhere she looked there was a potentially stunning shot.
She didn’t know exactly where Nikos was sitting having his coffee, and there was no way she was going to seek him out, but she still felt as if his eyes were following her around—as if he was the marksman and she was his target. She was still obsessively aware of him even when he wasn’t there.
Photographs done, she replaced the lens cap and pushed back her shoulders. The sunshine was warm, and she was starting to regret her decision to wear leather trousers. Shorts would have been a better choice...or something cotton and floaty.
‘Did you get the shots you wanted?’
Her temperature only soared higher as Nikos came to stand beside her, sliding a strong arm around her waist. Kate looked around, expecting to see a photographer lurking somewhere, assuming this must be another photo op orchestrated by Nikos in his relentless pursuit of generating favourable publicity for his cause. But there was no photographer—just a sea of tourists, much like themselves, going about their business.
Silently Nikos’s hand dipped lower, settling on her hip, his fingers spreading so that they curved over the top of her bottom. Each and every one of Kate’s muscles went into spasm.
‘Yes, thanks.’ She held herself very still, fighting the burn of his touch. It felt like a deliberate test, to see how she would react.
When he took his hand away she allowed herself a quick breath, but now his fingers were inching under the hem of her blouse, finding their way to the bare skin of her waist, whispering over her flesh. And then Kate did react—she felt a rush of blood spreading to her core.
She could have so easily pulled away. But with his caress like velvet against her overheated skin she found herself edging closer to him, inviting his hand to move further under her blouse, to find more of her over-sensitised flesh.
‘You feel a little warm, agape mou.’ Nikos slanted her a lazy smile, and there was more than a hint of triumph in his eyes. ‘Shall we go somewhere to cool down?’
Swallowing hard, Kate took a step away. ‘I might go back to the hotel to change. I hadn’t realised the weather would be so hot.’
‘It’s true.’ His dark eyes were heavy with seduction. ‘
The temperature does seem to have shot up.’
They started back in the direction of their hotel, walking quickly, dodging tourists, as if a sudden unspoken purposefulness was moving them forward.
The hotel lobby was cool and dark after the brightness outside. Set directly on the Grand Canal, The Palazzo, with its Baroque architecture and opulent furnishings, had to be one of the most exclusive hotels in Venice. But for some reason it only had a teeny-tiny elevator. As the door slid closed behind them and Nikos towered over her, radiating heat and hunger and pure sexual magnetism, Kate felt the small amount of oxygen in it vanish completely.
* * *
Nikos fixed Kate with a direct stare, watching with male satisfaction at the way her breasts hitched beneath the heat of his gaze, listening with quiet pleasure to the small gasp of her shortened breath. Neither of them said anything, but as the elevator groaned its way to the penthouse suite there was no mistaking the heavy thud of desire beating between them.
He adjusted his weight, impatient now, his need rapidly overtaking his anticipation, delicious though it was. Never far from the surface, his hunger for Kate had ramped up painfully that morning when she’d appeared wearing those black trousers. That leather-clad butt had been tormenting him all day, and turning other men’s heads in her direction too—even more so than usual.
Nikos didn’t like that. He had only been half joking when he’d made that quip about warning off amorous suitors. Watching her walking around St Mark’s Square being ogled by every red-blooded chancer in the place had set his blood simmering, until eventually he’d had no choice but to stride over to claim her for himself, his hand on her backside branding her as his. And the reality hadn’t disappointed. Feeling her muscles tighten beneath his touch had spread a fire to his groin that still burned, hot and fierce.
But it had left him wanting more—much more. And he wanted it now.
Their suite was dark and quiet when they entered, the maid having closed the shutters against the sun. Neither of them made any move to open them.
