Mona Lisa's Room

by Vonnie Davis

  Lord help me, I want to give her the answer she desires, but I can’t.

  “If you do anything in your name, use your charge cards, access your bank accounts, notify anyone back in the States, The Red Hand will find out. Then all my carefully laid plans will be for nothing. You’ll be in danger again.”

  “How long? How long do I have to live this lie?”

  He lowered his head to kiss her, and she backed away. She was killing him. A cold sense of panic gripped his heart. “Until I catch the leaders of this terrorist group. That’s the most honest answer I can give you.”

  “How long have you been trying to apprehend them?”

  His Aly was no dummy. She was making a point. His eyes locked on hers. “Over three years.”

  Aly turned to walk away. Niko reached out and snagged her arm. “Okay, if you’re going to be mad as hell, let’s get this all out in the open and deal with it.”

  She tossed her shoes onto the sand and planted her fists on her slender hips. “I’m waiting.”

  “I love you.” She turned her head, and he grabbed her chin and turned her face toward his. “You might be too pissed to admit it right now, but you love me, too. What happened between us this morning wouldn’t have been as mind-blowing as it was, if you didn’t.”

  Two huge tears spilled from her blue eyes and floated down her cheeks. “I hate you.”

  He enveloped her in his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I know you do. Right now I hate myself, too, for hurting you after we made love and for upsetting you over this name change business.”

  “Why did you act that way? Earlier, I mean.”

  The moment of truth had come. He knew it was barreling down on him like a runaway train. Niko had to tell her. If he wanted her to trust him—and he did—he had to share his secret. Still, how would she react? Would she understand or walk out of his life forever? If she left him, he had no doubt all the color would drain out of his world, for this woman was the rainbow of his heart. Knowing this, he forged ahead, hanging desperately to the hope she’d understand.

  “No one knows this. You’re the first person I’ve told.” His hands slid up and down her back. “In my job I deal with a lot of top secret data. I’m entrusted with this.” He blew out a ragged sigh. The next five words were the hardest he ever had to speak and he did so on a whisper. “I betrayed my country’s trust.”

  Aly leaned back and gazed up at him, her eyes searching. “How?”

  He kissed her, for at this moment he needed his lips on hers, to draw on her strength perhaps. “One of the things that drew Hae-Won and me together was our mutual ambition. I wanted to head my unit one day. She wanted a Pulitzer in photographic journalism.”

  “How long did you see each other?”

  “Eight months. I came to her rescue at a hotel bar in Kuwait. Some guys were pushing her around, grabbing her. We barely exchanged names. A month later we ran into each other at a news conference in London. The Red Hand bombed a bus, and I was heading the investigation. My last job with Interpol. I’d already been recruited for my current position. Before long we were involved. My long hours became a sore spot between us. I often worked late and on weekends.”

  “If she was ambitious, certainly she could appreciate the same quality in you.”

  His arms tightened around her. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? We made plans to go see her family in South Korea. Two days before we were scheduled to leave, there was a café bombing on the Right Bank. Four French citizens were killed. Two more injured. I suspected The Red Hand. I told Hae-Won I couldn’t take time off work and she’d have to go see her parents without me.” In his mind, he could hear her yelling. See her snatching the picture of the two of them off his desk in the den and flinging it against the wall. “We had a terrible argument.”

  “I see. What happened?”

  “She was hysterical. Crying and throwing things. I went to the kitchen to get her some wine, hoping it would calm her down. It was late and I was working at home. My laptop was running.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I failed to log out of a secret file when I left the den to go to the kitchen. My negligence. I’ve cursed myself a thousand times for it, but I was so wrapped up in her, so upset that she was worked up.”

  He exhaled a long, loud sigh. “While I was getting her some wine, Jean-Luc called with some new intel. I was on the phone with him quite some time…”

  “…and she snooped on your computer.”

  Niko nodded. “I had the list of Red Hand’s hideouts on the screen and how we’d learned of each location.” He lifted a shoulder. “If the accuracy of a particular location had been verified and how. She evidently wrote the addresses down and went in search of her elusive ‘Pulitzer Prize picture.’ She was gone by the time I returned with the wine. A note was scrawled on a notepad that she’d see me after her trip. Hell, I thought she meant the trip to see her parents in Korea.”

  “But she went in search of Red Hand instead.”

  “Yes. When she did, Red Hand captured and killed her.” He glanced out over the English Channel. “Or did I kill her by carelessly walking away from top secret information?”

  “So you’ve blamed yourself for her death?”

  Niko released her and bent to scoop up some seashells, tossing them one by one into the sea. It was a stalling tactic, but he needed to settle his emotions. “I’m responsible for two crimes. A crime against my country and a crime against the woman I loved. My negligence caused her death.”

  “Carrying around all that guilt must weigh you down.”

  A harsh bark of laughter escaped. “Guilt? Oh yeah, I’ve lived with guilt every day since I walked away from my computer with secure information on it. A few stokes of the keys and that information would have been locked away, but I was too upset over her anger. In my frantic state to hang onto her, I lost control and allowed her access to information about The Red Hand. Information my country deemed top secret.”

  She took his hand, and they started walking again. “I’m the only one you’ve ever told about this?”

  He nodded. “I think Jean-Luc suspects, but we’ve never talked about it. I hold some of his secrets, too.”

  “Why have you taken on all the blame?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Snooping on someone else’s computer is wrong. She was evidently an intelligent woman. She had to know you were working with files from work. Top secret files. She had no business looking. Had no business stealing that information. She was wrong. Not you.”

  “But…”

  She gave him that hard glare she had. “No buts. She snooped through top secret information. That’s a crime in my book. Yes, you were careless in leaving that file open, but you didn’t do it on purpose. Her actions. on the other hand, were deliberate.”

  “You don’t blame me? You blame her?”

  “Hell, yeah!” She cut him a look. “Pardon my French.”

  Niko laughed, finding enormous relief in her ability to sooth him. He brought their entwined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’ve lived with a lot of shame for the past two years.”

  “It’s time you let it go. You didn’t do anything wrong. Not really.”

  She was trying to ease his guilt. If he hadn’t loved her unconditionally before, he did now. “I wish your questions held some merit. No one had access to the intelligence I did. To mollify her anger over the trip to see her parents and to show her how important she was to me, I lost control of my sense of duty worrying about Hae-Won’s anger. That was wrong.

  “I promised myself I’d never lose control with another woman again. Then this afternoon, you literally rocked my foundation with your foreplay. What a delightful combination you were. Provocative minx and sweet innocence. I lost control. Total control. At that moment, I couldn’t tell where you left off and I began. It scared the hell out of me.”

  Aly turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her soft blue eyes seemed to drink him in. �
��You honor me with your secret. I will honor you by keeping it, although in my humble opinion, you did nothing wrong. I love you, Niko Reynard.” She pulled his head down to hers and whispered against his lips, “I love you.”

  This woman, this soft little woman who held him in her arms was so strong, so sweet, he could barely stand it. As waves tumbled toward the shore, its foamy fingers trying to grasp the sand, Niko and Aly embraced and kissed. Slowly the guilt and shame he carried flowed out to sea amid those foamy sea caps.

  “Take me back to our apartment, Niko. Make love to me. Show me delights I’ve never known before.”

  Their loving was slow and gentle, full of sighs and promises. Piece by piece, they undressed each other. No games were played this time. Honesty flowed between them. Feelings were shared and hearts joined.

  Niko covered her with kisses from her forehead to the soles of her feet. He turned her over and kissed her from her heels to the tips of her ears. No part of her body was ignored. He turned her onto her back again and cupped her breasts. “You are so beautiful, mon amour.” He dipped his head and drew her nipple into his mouth. Her back arched and she moaned. His fingers slid down, seeking her core. Her fingernails dug into his back as her moans grew louder.

  When he was sure she teetered on the edge, he entered her. He raised himself to keep the weight of his body off hers. “Look at me, cherie. I want to see the emotions play out on your face.” He pulled out and slowly entered her again. “You feel like hot satin. You belong to me now, and I to you.” He set the speed of his strokes, withdrawing until he nearly left the warmth of her body and then pushing in to the hilt. As his slow strokes quickened, he fought the need to climax.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he was nearly undone. When he felt her spasms start, he covered her lips with his, swallowing her cries as she tumbled into ecstasy. With one final hard thrust, he threw his head back and cried out her name, finding his own private rainbow of blinding colored lights.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The waitress at Le Petite Café and Boulangerie served them blueberry crepes the following morning. Once again, smells of baking bread and pastries and steaming strong coffee hung in the air. Alyson inhaled the delightful aromas. “I wonder if one could bottle these fragrances.”

  “None would smell as good as you.” Niko winked at her.

  “You’re looking very pleased with yourself this morning.” They’d made love several times throughout the night. When he stepped into the shower behind her earlier, well, what could she say? The man was insatiable.

  “I’m pleased with you, mon amour.” He motioned the waitress over.

  “Problem, Monsieur?”

  “We need your assistance. My wife would like to have her hair done. A cut and color. Do you know of a place she could patronize today? We have an important dinner this evening.” They talked about changing her appearance over their dinner last night. Since the terrorists knew her as a blonde and a redhead, she had to pick a different hair color.

  The middle-aged waitress nodded at both Niko and Alyson. “Oui, allow me to make a call. Your name for the appointment?”

  “Cally Aukland.” Would she ever get used to the name? She supposed the time to start was now. Although she wasn’t happy with the events surrounding her life, she had to adopt a positive attitude if she were ever to have a degree of happiness and contentment in her life.

  By the time the waitress returned, Niko finished off his crepes and eyed Alyson’s. “Look!” He pointed. “A mouse.”

  Both women gasped and looked in the direction he pointed. When Alyson glanced back at Niko in question, his cheeks were puffed out and her plate was empty. “You stole my crepes!”

  He raised both hands in a surrender gesture and shook his head. The man couldn’t talk, not with his mouth full of her crepes.

  “I’ll make you more, Madame Aukland.” The laughing waitress turned to Niko. “Would monsieur desire more crepes, as well?”

  Too busy chewing, the crepe-thief merely nodded.

  She placed a slip of paper in front of Alyson. “Here are the address and directions to Yvette’s shop. Your appointment is in two hours.”

  ****

  “It’s too short.” Alyson picked at her hair as she preened in the reflection of the car’s sun visor mirror. “Don’t you think it’s too short?”

  “I think it’s chic. I like the shade, too. What did Yvette call it?”

  “Caramel mocha. Whatever that means. Oh, and don’t think I didn’t notice her flirting with you.”

  “Did I flirt back? No, I did not. Because you are woman enough for any man.” He lifted her hand to his lips. Warm fluttery sensations undulated through her system.

  She peered back into the mirror, turning her head from side to side. “I look like a boy.”

  His gaze swept to her full breasts. “Never in a million years could you be mistaken for a boy or a man. Baby, you are all woman. I could take you back to the apartment and show you.” His eyebrows wiggled.

  “You can’t possibly want me again.” They made love after breakfast, before her hair appointment. A post-breakfast-quickie, he called it. “Besides, I want to do some painting this afternoon. The sun is bright. The air is calm. We could set the easel up on the beach. You could work on your tan while I paint.”

  Because the sun was exceptionally bright, Alyson wore a cotton top over her bathing suit to protect her bullet wound. This was her first day without the bandage. As she squeezed tubes of oils onto her palette, the sun’s warmth soothed the wound’s continual ache. She wore a broad-brimmed hat to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare.

  “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” She gazed briefly at Niko, sitting on a towel in his black swimming trunks and rubbing on suntan lotion.

  “It is, cherie. We should come back in a couple months, earlier if Marie-Clare needs us to help her move. She was right when she called this a healing place. I’ve done a lot of healing here, because of you, of course, but the quiet of this place soothes me, too.”

  “Yes.” For a few seconds, she focused her attention on the waves breaking over the rocks and two sailboats near the horizon, looking as if they would topple off the edge of the earth. She blended her grays and blues for the water. “I might be working by then. If I’m to start a new life here, I’ll need to support myself.”

  “There’s no hurry to tie yourself down with a job. Relax. Enjoy life for a while. Get used to living in Paris and being a Frenchwoman.”

  She touched her brush to the pristine canvas. “Just how am I supposed to live? I have over a quarter of a million in my bank account. My settlement from Chaz. There are other investments I’ve made over the years, plus my retirement built up with the school system in North Carolina. It galls me to walk away from it all.”

  “Don’t do anything foolish. Money is replaceable. You aren’t.” His eyes hardened and he glared at her. “Promise me, Aly. Don’t try to access those funds.”

  “Aly’s dead. Remember? How can she promise you anything?”

  “Don’t be facetious. I want to make sure you’re aware of the dangers in contacting any financial institution. If you want a job, you could continue Marie-Clare’s business downstairs or close that business and start another one. There’s also volunteer work to occupy your days. It doesn’t matter to me if you have an income or not. I plan to support you.” He pushed on his Ray-Bans and lay back.

  Other than her father, no man had ever supported her. She had money and investments back home. How could she just pretend they didn’t exist? “I could use that money to start a new life.”

  “You won’t need it. You have me.” He sounded bored with the conversation, and why not? In his arrogant French mind, he’d already solved her problems.

  She applied paint with flowing wrist movements. A thought flitted into her mind and did a sensuous dance step or two. She fought the urge to smile and thus give herself away. “I could get a job in an all-male club. Bet I could mak
e lots of tips there. I used to take belly dancing classes.” His head swiveled in her direction. “Hmm. On a crazy whim, Gwen and I once took pole dancing classes, too. Maybe I could combine the two. You know, bump and grind against the pole and then shake my hips and derriere in some guy’s face. I could get a red-sequined thong…” Poor gullible fool must have gotten a visual. He had an instant erection.

  “Are you going sailing, Niko? I see your mast is up.”

  A few hours later, when Alyson stepped into the shower to wash off sweat and sea mist, Niko soon joined her. “What are you doing in here?”

  He wore that appealing little-boy expression. “I have sand on my feet. I need to wash them off.”

  “Uh-hunh.” She handed him her pouf and turned her back to him. “While you’re here invading my space, you might as well make yourself useful and wash my back. How’s my wound look?”

  Niko bent to kiss it. “Looks good. No signs of infection. Pink with healing. Adds character to an otherwise perfect body.” He patted her bottom. “Which reminds me, I wanted to talk to you about that belly dancing idea you had.” His erection poked her, and she smiled. He was certainly an ardent lover. “Any belly dancing you do will be only for me.”

  “Oh? You think so, do you?”

  His arms banded around her waist, drawing her back to the hardness of his body and his erection. “I told you before I’m a jealous lover. You’re mine. Mine only.” One of his hands slid to her abdomen. “I might share you with a child one day, but no one else.”

  Her spirits sank; he wanted children. He mentioned it briefly before as if he thought it could be a possibility, but his desire hadn’t fully registered. Until now.

  “I can’t give you a child, Niko.” She turned, wanting to make him see the futility of the situation. “Look, you almost have me convinced the difference in our ages doesn’t matter, but this issue of children has to be faced. I haven’t been able to conceive. My doctor said part of the problem was endometriosis. I had surgery to correct that. Although the doctor claimed conception could happen, I…” A heartfelt sob escaped. “I hold no hope. If you want a child, you should find another woman.”