Hostage to Love (Entangled Suspense) (7 page)

Her hurt veered to anger as, with lazy indifference, he lowered his newspaper and arched a masculine brow at her.

“I asked you a question! You said you were taking me home, so why are we landing on Althea?” she demanded.

Beyond her window, the turquoise waters of the Aegean sparkled below the low-banking jet. Beautiful, breathtaking…but a far cry from the gray expanse of the English Channel she’d expected to see.

She heard the mechanical whine of the landing gear as it lowered, and panic clawed at her.

She didn’t want to be here on Nick’s private island off the Greek coast, where the only other inhabitants were the cook and housekeeper Demetra, her husband and the island caretaker Yannis, and two maids who lived in a small cottage behind the large, rambling villa.

She didn’t want to be here, in the place where memories abounded everywhere—of the glorious delirium of her honeymoon, of the long days spent exploring the island and swimming in the ocean, and especially the long, steamy nights making love with Nick. She looked out of the window again, to make sure her eyes hadn’t deceived her.

They hadn’t.

“Yes, you wanted to go home,” Nick drawled from his seat beside her, “so that is where I’ve brought you. Althea will always be your home,
pethi mou
.”

“You know I damned well didn’t mean here, or you chose to deliberately misunderstand. I meant my apartment in Brighton, the place I’ve been living for the past six months. Tell your pilot to change course immediately.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” he informed her, and with a flick of his wrist disposed of the newspaper on a nearby table. “After what you’ve been through, you need time to recuperate. I’ve seen your flat. You can barely swing a cat in there, never mind hold a man of my size. You’ll recuperate here, in your
home
, in comfort.” His tone coaxed indulgently, as if he addressed a petulant child.

Feeling the steel trap of his indomitable control close around her, she bit out rashly, “So you intend to hold me hostage, too?” she accused.

In a split second, the indulgent humor left his face. Gripping the arms of his seat, his eyes flashed ice at her. “You dare to compare what happened to you to this? To compare me to that thug?” He’d paled beneath his olive skin, his body tense with palpable fury.

The twinge of shame pricking her conscience wasn’t enough to sway her.

“This isn’t my home. And I don’t need you around to recuperate. Don’t forget, I have my own family who’ll be there for me if and when I need them.”

He eased back into his chair. “I am your husband and the only family you need,” he responded. The hard smile on his face oozed challenging arrogance.

“You’re joking, aren’t you? I may have worn your ring and chosen to bear your name, but you were a far cry from a husband.”

“Why, because I didn’t fit into some mold you’d pre-cast in your mind?”

“Because you never saw me as a wife, not in any meaningful sense. You only wanted a biddable bed partner and someone to trot out when a photo op was needed.” She whipped her head back to the window and saw the ground rising up fast. Too fast. “Nick, I demand you instruct your pilot to turn this plane around and take me home—”

It was too late. The plane touched down with scarcely a bump and rolled toward the end of the short runway.

Nick’s triumphant smile was the last straw. Her fingers flew to release the seatbelt.

“If you won’t do it, I’ll tell him myself.” She tried to get out of her seat, but with effortless ease, Nick’s hand clamped down on her arm.

His touch immobilized her, along with the steel in his voice. “No, you will not.” The American accent acquired from his mother and thickened by several years spent in the U.S. was now missing as his Greek autocracy flared to life. “My pilots take instruction from no one but me. Besides, do you have any idea how many flights they’ve flown in the past forty-eight hours? Are you hell-bent on adding to their fatigue by making unreasonable demands?”

“Of course not—”

“Then sit down and keep your seatbelt on until the plane has come to a complete stop.” The last sentence was recited in a mock sing-song voice used by flight attendants the world over and was no doubt meant to amuse, but it fell far short of the mark.

“Let me go,” she said calmly, hating him for the position he’d placed her in.

His gaze rested on her for several heartbeats, then he released her.

“You’re angry with me, but I’m doing this with your best interest in mind.”

She laughed, a mirthless sound that scraped her throat. “God, you haven’t changed. As long as I end up doing exactly what you want, everything you say is in my best interest, isn’t it, Nick? I don’t know whether to be angry or sad about that.”

His lids swept down to shield his eyes. When he lifted them, his expression was carefully neutral. “Take your time to explore your feelings. And let me know when you decide which emotion you feel. Welcome home,
yineka mou
.”

She was well and truly trapped. Because, damn him, Nick was right. Unless he gave specific instructions to the contrary, there was no way she could get off the island. The nearest landfall, another island similar to this one, was also owned by the Andreakos family, more specifically, Alex. And after his brusque caution not to get into any more trouble, she didn’t imagine he’d help her leave.

Nick had smoothed the way for her travel through the Greek Embassy in Morocco, but without him or her passport—which was still in Mwana’s possession—she wouldn’t be able to board a flight back to England.

And as for the family she’d so proudly trotted out a minute ago, the moment her parents found out she was with Nick, they’d ignore any pleas from her to get her out of here.

After all, weren’t they one of the reasons she’d left England in the first place? To get away from the constant pressure to “sort out this silliness with Nick”?

She’d refused to tell anyone but her best friend, Liz, why she’d walked out on Nick, and she wasn’t about to admit to the whole world why her marriage had ended after six short months. She had her pride, if nothing else.

The aching memory held her rigid in her seat, until the plane’s brakes jarred her from her thoughts.

Ignoring the hand Nick held out to her, she released her belt and stood up. She cursed the weakness in her body and pain in her bandaged feet as she moved with slow stiffness to the door.

But when she started to descend the stairs, Nick appeared at her side, and without pausing a beat, swung her into his arms, his movements sure as he navigated the short steps onto the tarmac.

She gritted her teeth as her senses zinged to life. “Put me down. I’m perfectly capable of walking.” She pushed at his chest, trying to ignore her body’s leap of pleasure at his proximity.

“You may be, but I don’t want to be here all day. It’s been a long flight and you need to rest. And I need a stiff drink and a shower, in that order. So oblige me, would you?” His long strides ate up the short distance from the plane to the electric-powered golf cart parked nearby. Once there, he placed her on the seat and slid in beside her before accelerating toward the villa half a mile away.

The sharp retort on her lips evaporated as the beauty of her surroundings washed over her.

Althea was a five-kilometer-long, lush green paradise dropped into the middle of the Aegean Sea, with nothing for miles but the jeweled brilliance of the warm turquoise-colored water. Located due east of the Cycladic group of islands, it enjoyed almost year-round sunshine.

The four weeks she’d spent here after their wedding had been the happiest of her life, and she bit her lip in sharp remembrance as the Byzantine-themed villa came into full view.

Whitewashed and red-roofed, the two-story building sat resplendent on a small hill in the late afternoon sun. Bordered on either side by cypress and eucalyptus trees, the villa enjoyed a constant soft breeze, which lessened the sometimes harsh impact of the Greek sun. The view from the front was spectacular, offering up panoramic scenes of landscaped gardens in the foreground and a private cove and white sands of the beach beyond. She knew the vista from the sea view deck at the back of the home was equally breathtaking, having spent many a morning breakfasting there during their honeymoon.

Nick had barely stopped the golf cart outside the solid oak doors when they flew open. A plump old woman stood on the threshold, her wrinkled face creased into a beaming smile.

Belle couldn’t help but smile in return. “Demetra, how are you?” She could be polite, even if she didn’t want to be here.

“
Kyria
Andreakos! Good, you’re home. Very, very good.” She clapped her hands together in glee before rushing down to throw her arms round Belle.

Nick spoke curtly to the older woman, who drew back with an apologetic but assessing look. She mumbled under her breath, cast Belle another smile, and then turned to supervise her husband, Yannis, as he unloaded the suitcases from the cart.

“What did you say to her?” Belle asked sharply.

“I told her you weren’t in the best of health, so she should contain her exuberance.” Nick stated unapologetically, unfolding his lithe body from the vehicle and coming to help her up. With reluctance, she accepted his help, unwilling to cause a scene in front of Demetra. But it didn’t stop her voicing her thoughts.

“I’d thank you not to give everyone the impression I’m made of fragile glass, primed to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.”

“If you say so,
pethi mou
.”

“Stop calling me that! I’m not your little one, nor your little anything for that matter.” Her voice came out in a screech, and her face burned.

She saw the smile that played about his lips, and her anger went up another notch.

“And you can stop using that humoring tone with me. In fact, you can leave me alone altogether.” To her chagrin, her voice broke, and a sob rose in her throat. Had she possessed the strength to march away from him, she would have; instead she felt herself wilting like a delicate flower exposed to too much sun.

With a muttered oath, Nick swung her up in his arms for the second time in less than ten minutes, mounted the steps, and entered the villa. She barely had time to reacquaint herself with the interior of the place she’d once called home before Nick whisked her up the grand staircase and turned into the left hallway. Paintings of seascapes, richly colored tapestries, and the mosaic motifs that made up the stunning décor whizzed by as he strode rapidly to the end of the long corridor, pushed open the door, and advanced toward the huge bed in the middle of the room.

Bracing a knee on the mattress, he laid her down on the luxurious coverlet.

She sank back into the cool, soft pillows, striving to hide the sharp awareness that rampaged through her. But although she pulled away from him, she couldn’t stop her eyes from devouring him.

A lock of hair had fallen over his eyes as he’d bent over, and she clenched her fist against the urge to smooth it back, the way she would’ve done as a newlywed. In contrast to her agitation, she noted with resentment how his chest rose and fell with smooth control beneath the black shirt he wore.

His body, as toned and sleek as ever, vibrated with latent power from the top of his dark head to the tips of his handmade loafers.

She looked away, desperately forcing aside the heat that rose within her. The sexual charge between them had always been extremely potent, and time and distance, it seemed, had only heightened it for her. When it continued to creep up in unrelenting waves, she moved away from him toward the middle of the bed, fearful she’d betray her body’s response with the arrows of white-hot desire that shot to the very center of her being.

Casting her eyes around the room instead, she noted the décor hadn’t changed from the pleasant white and blue design. The large bed was still fringed by billowing white canopied curtains, and the deep blue coverlet streaked with gold was as vibrant and silky beneath her fingers as it had been the first time she’d stroked it.

The handmade Cycladic furniture that graced the bedside and the room, along with the richly patterned rugs scattered on the white tiled floor, were also the same ones she remembered.

Nothing had changed, she noted with cutting poignancy. Nothing except the man in front of her, who had made her fall deeply in love with him, only to reveal fathoms-deep control issues that went beyond the running of his multi-billion-euro empire. By the time she’d found the strength to walk away, Nick’s need to control her had plunged to a level so deep, it obliterated everything in its path, including her love. Of course, the final straws had been his stance on their future children, or the distinct lack of them, and the glaring realization that Nick didn’t love her—certainly not enough to say those three simple words to her.

“I want to rest now, so if you’ll excuse me?” Her voice didn’t hold as firm as she willed it, and she hoped he’d think it was through tiredness rather than an unhealthy mixture of pain, sadness, and arousal.

“Do you need anything? A glass of water or a cool drink?” Was his voice husky, or were her ears playing tricks on her?

“No, thanks, I’m fine.”
Please, please leave. I want to be on my own.

He cast a quick glance over her. “You can’t sleep in those clothes. I’ll have Demetra bring up your cases and help you change. I’d offer to help myself but you’d probably claw my eyes out.”

His tone was humorous but his eyes remained solemn and concerned.

“No, I’m too weak to claw. But I wouldn’t be above giving it a shot, so yes, you best stay away.”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean to distress you,
pethi mou
—”

“But you succeeded all the same. As always.” They stared at each other for a timeless moment. Then she turned her back on him. She didn’t breathe until she heard the door shut with a firm click behind him. Then she gave in to the tears filling her eyes.

…

Nick leaned against the closed door, a deep reluctance to leave Belle’s side deadening his feet. She needed her rest, but
Thee mou,
it was hard, when all he wanted to do was crawl into the bed with her.