Secret Paradise (Kimani Romance)

by Girard, Dara

  “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 ha
d 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.

  Callia gripped her hands. “Why does she have to come here? It’s bad enough that I have to travel to see her four times a year. But why is Uncle Lucian letting her come here and spoil things?”

  “She insisted,” Dante said.

  “The cow,” Callia grumbled.

  Kay wagged a finger. “That’s not nice.”

  “She’s not coming tomorrow,” Dante said. “So stop being unhappy about it. Let Kay take you to Italy for a week.”

  “Can you come?”

  “No. I have work to do,” Dante replied.

  Callia frowned. “You’re always working.”

  “That’s because I have a lot to do.”

  “You didn’t before. You, Uncle and I used to travel to Italy and Spain just for fun. Sometimes you’d just take me to the mainland and we’d have ices and—”

  “Basilio can take you.”

  “He’s not the same. You work too hard and that’s why you don’t smile.”

  Dante tweaked her chin. “I’d rather see you smile. Chef is making one of your favorite desserts.”

  She sat up with interest. “Which one?”

  “Why don’t you come and see?”

  Kay spoke up. “I don’t think that’s appropriate. She’s not a little girl anymore.”

  “I don’t see the harm in it,” Nikki said, seeing the disappointment on Callia’s face.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Kay replied.

  “She’s right,” Dante said. Then his phone rang before anyone could argue. “Pardon me,” he said, then walked out.

  Callia watched him leave and Nikki could see the longing in the young woman’s eyes. Yes, Callia was at the right age to develop a crush, and Dante was completely blind to her affection. Perhaps Kay was right to keep Callia “above” stairs, because nothing could come from the young woman’s infatuation. Nikki waited, expecting Callia to say something rude or get angry at Kay. Instead she sat quietly, with tears streaming down her face.

  Nikki stretched out her hand to her. “Let’s go for a walk. It’s okay, Kay. I’ll take care of her.”

  The two wandered outside and walked a distance in silence. Then Callia said in a quiet voice, “Dante doesn’t like me anymore.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “We used to be such good friends. It was Uncle Lucian, Dante and me. Then Basilio came, and now Kay, and he avoids me because he thinks I’m crazy.”

  “He has a lot of responsibilities and you’re not a little girl anymore.”

  “I know. I’ll be fifteen next month. If I were older, I’d make Dante want me.”

  Nikki paused, surprised by Callia’s brazen statement. “But you’re not.” She wanted to be gentle with the young woman’s feelings but knew that the situation couldn’t be what she wanted it to be. “I remember my first crush. A teacher. I thought my heart would break when he got married, but I got over it, and you will, too. You have a lot of growing up to do, and things change in relationships.”

  Callia wiped her eyes and sniffed. “I’ll always love Dante.”

  “Yes, maybe your love will change into something else.”

  “Uncle Lucian hates me to talk about the past, but sometimes I like it better there. Uncle says, ‘It’s not where you’ve been it’s where you’re going.’”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then why do I sometimes feel that everything that’s important to me is going away?”

  Chapter 10

  Nikki crumpled up a wad of paper and tossed it aside in frustration. Dante had kindly set her up in the room she was to design, providing a small drafting table and all the supplies she needed. It didn’t help. Her ideas weren’t coming together. She’d never had this much trouble with a design before. And she had no one to blame but herself. Callia had given her great ideas, as had Basilio. The last several evenings he’d been extra courteous, making her stay pleasant. He made up for Lucian’s absence.

  “He usually eats alone,” Basilio said several nights ago at dinner.

  Callia opened her mouth to say something, then winced and closed it.

  Nikki suspected he was lying, and understood. Since the night on the terrace she’d seen Lucian only in passing and was never given a chance to be alone with him. While one brother avoided her, the other went out of his way to charm her. Even last night at dinner she’d tried to ignore Lucian’s absence and enjoy the garides me feta—sautéed shrimp dressed in a ruby-red tomato sauce, sprinkled with feta cheese and served with loads of crusty bread with which to soak up the succulent juices. For dessert they had had Turkish dried apricots stuffed with cream that were lightly covered with syrup and sprinkled with pistachios.

  After dinner Basilio had strolled with Nikki in the garden. “I didn’t mean to upset you about the smugglers,” he’d said. “Dante told me I did and I apologize.”

  “No need. When I mentioned it to him, I didn’t think he would take it so seriously.”

  Basilio scowled. “Dante takes everything seriously.”

  “You’ve really made my time here enjoyable.”

  “I’m glad.”

  As she sat at her drafting table, Nikki could not avoid the fact that despite Basilio’s efforts, Lucian still loomed large, as did the mysterious Alana. How could she please a man who kept her locked out? Not that she blamed him, after the awful encounter on the terrace. She knew this design meant more than she wanted it to. It was an apology and a plea for him to trust her once more. She took out a new sheet of paper and started again.

  The cat, Lethe, came into the room and jumped up on the table.

  “Shoo,” Nikki said with a wave of her hand.

  He blinked.

  Nikki sighed. “All these other flat surfaces and you have to choose h
ere?” She nudged him. He growled. She snatched her hand away. “I thought you were supposed to be friendly.”

  He licked his paw, then looked at her again.

  Nikki held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, you win. You can stay.”

  He curled into a ball, looking as soft and cuddly as a tiger.

  She rested her chin in her hand and studied him, wishing he could talk. “What can you tell me about your owner?”

  “He thinks people who talk to animals are strange,” a voice said behind her.

  She spun in her chair, stunned, not knowing what to say. Lucian seemed casual and relaxed, as if nothing had happened between them and those days of avoidance were a trifle. That made her even more uneasy, because she knew he was a man who didn’t forget anything.

  “I never asked you about your trip with Basilio.”

  “You haven’t been around to ask.”

  “I’m asking now. Did you two enjoy yourselves?”

  “Callia was there, too,” she said, annoyed by his insinuation.

  “And you had a good time?”

  “A very good time.” She cleared her throat, but her voice remained hoarse. “What do you want?”

  “I want to see how things are progressing.” He glanced at the paper balls on the floor. “It looks like they’re not.”

  “I have my own system,” Nikki said, trying to show a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

  Lucian picked up a paper ball. “It seems broken.”

  “I’ve requested to see you and get your feedback, but you’ve been oddly out of reach.”

  “Feel like quitting?”

  “I wouldn’t give you the pleasure.”

  Lucian began to open the paper ball.

  Nikki grabbed his hands. “That’s not for you to see.”

  He stiffened and his eyes met hers in a silent challenge. Their gazes held each other in a battle of wills. She felt the strength of his hands, hers almost looking like a child’s in comparison. She knew she could fight him, but she wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t be the first to let go. Nikki sighed and she reluctantly did. He opened the crumpled paper and spread it out on the table. He studied it for a moment, his expression giving nothing away. Then he bent down and took another scrunched-up paper off the floor and did the same, then another.