The Secret Beneath the Veil

by Dani Collins

  She held on while she held his gaze, incredibly beautiful with that hard-won determination lighting her proud expression. “You will make sure Aunt Hildy is properly cared for?”

  “You and Pappoús will get along well. He holds me to my promises, too.”

  She released the passport into his possession, averting her gaze as though she didn’t want to acknowledge the significance. Clearing her throat, she took out her phone. “I want to check in with Trina. May I have the WiFi code?”

  “The security key is a mix of English and Greek characters.” He held out his other hand. “I’ll do it for you.”

  She released a noise of impatient defeat, slapped her phone into his palm and walked away.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MIKOLAS HAD SET himself up in her contacts with a selfie taken on her phone, of him sitting there like a sultan on his yacht, taking ownership of her entire life.

  She couldn’t stop looking at it. Those smoky eyes of his were practically making love to her, the curve of his wide mouth quirked at the corners in not quite a smile. It was more like, I know you’re naked in the shower right now. He was so brutally handsome with his chiseled cheekbones and devil-doesn’t-give-a-damn nonchalance he made her chest hurt.

  Yet he had also forwarded a request from the Swiss doctor for her aunt’s details along with a recommendation for one of those beyond-top-notch dementia villages that were completely unattainable for mere mortals. A quick scan of its website told her it was very patient-centric and prided itself on compassion and being ahead of the curve with quality treatment. All that was needed was the name of her aunt’s physician to begin Hildy’s transfer into the facility’s care.

  Along with Trina’s well-being, a good plan for Aunt Hildy was the one thing Viveka would sell her soul for. It was a sad commentary on her life that it was the only thing pulling her back to London. She had no community there, rarely had time for dating or going out with friends. Her neighbor was nice, but mostly her life had revolved around school, then work and caring for Aunt Hildy. There was no one worrying about her now, when she had been stolen like a concubine by this throwback Spartan warrior.

  She sighed, not even able to argue that her job was a career she needed to get back to. One quick email and her position had been snapped up by one of the part-timers who need the hours. She’d be on the bottom rung when she went back. If she went back. She’d accepted that job for its convenience to home, and in the back of her mind, she’d already been planning to make a change once she had Hildy settled.

  But Aunt Hildy had faced nothing but challenges all her life and, in her way, she’d been Viveka’s lifeline. The old woman shouldn’t have to suffer and wouldn’t. Not if Viveka could help it.

  And now that Mikolas had spelled out that sex wasn’t mandatory...

  Oh, she didn’t want to think about sex with that man! He already made her feel so unlike herself she could hardly stand it. But she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to lie with him. Something about him got to her, making her blood run like cavalry into sensual battle. Sadly, Viveka had reservations that made the idea of being intimate with him seem not just ill-advised but completely impossible.

  So she tried not to think of it and video-called Trina. Her sister was both deliriously joyful and terribly worried when she picked up.

  “Where are you? Papa is furious.” Her eyes were wide. “I’m scared for you, Vivi.”

  “I’m okay,” she prevaricated. “What about you? You’ve obviously talked to him. Is he likely to come after you?”

  “He doesn’t believe this was my decision. He blames you for all of it and it sounds—I’m not sure what’s going on at his office, but things are off the rails and he thinks it’s your fault. I’m so sorry, Vivi.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Viveka snorted, hiding how scared the news made her. “Are you and Stephanos happy? Was all of this worth it?”

  “So happy! I knew he was my soul mate, but oh, Vivi!” Her sister blushed, growing even more radiant, saying in a self-conscious near-whisper, “Being married is even better than I imagined it would be.”

  Lovemaking. That’s what her little sister was really talking about.

  Envy, acute and painful, seared through Viveka. She had always felt left out when women traded stories about men and intimacy. Dating for her had mostly been disastrous. Now even her younger sister was ahead of her on that curve. It made Viveka even more insecure in her sexuality than she already was.

  They talked a few more minutes and Viveka was wistful when she ended the call. She was glad Trina was living happily-ever-after. At one time, she’d believed in that fairy tale for herself, but had become more pragmatic over the years, first by watching the nightmare that her mother’s romance turned into, then challenged by Aunt Hildy for wanting a man to “complete” her.

  She hadn’t thought of it that way, exactly. Finding a soul mate was a stretch, true, but why shouldn’t she want a companion in life? What was the alternative? Live alone and lonely, like Aunt Hildy? Engage in casual hookups like Mikolas had said he preferred?

  She was not built for fair-weather frolics.

  Her introspection was interrupted by a call from Hildy’s doctor. He was impressed that she was able to get her aunt into that particular clinic and wanted to make arrangements to move her the next morning. He assured Viveka she was doing the right thing.

  The die was cast. Not long after, the ship docked and Viveka and Mikolas were whisked into a helicopter. It deposited them on top of his building, which was an office tower, but he had a penthouse that took up most of an upper floor.

  “I have meetings this afternoon,” he told her. “A stylist will be here shortly to help you get ready.”

  Viveka was typically ready to go out within thirty minutes. That included shampooing and drying her hair. She had never in her life started four hours before an appointment, not even when she had fake-married the man who calmly left her passport on a side table like bait and walked out.

  Not that this world was so different from living with Grigor, Viveka thought, lifting her baleful gaze from the temptation of her passport to gaze around Mikolas’s private domain. Grigor had been a bully, but he’d lived very well. His island mansion had had all the same accoutrements she found in Mikolas’s penthouse: a guest room with a full bath, a well-stocked wine fridge and pantry, a pool on a deck overlooking a stunning view.

  None of it put her at ease. She was still nervous. Expectation hung over her. Or rather, the question of what Mikolas expected.

  And whether she could deliver.

  Not sex, she reminded herself, trying to keep her mind off that. She turned to tormenting herself with anxiety over how well she would perform in the social arena. She wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t particularly outgoing. She wasn’t particularly pretty, either, and she had a feeling every other woman at this party would be gorgeous if Mikolas thought she needed four hours of beautification to bring her up to par.

  The stylist’s preparation wasn’t all shoring up of her looks, however. It was pampering with massage and a mani-pedi, encouragement to doze by the pool while last-minute adjustments were made to her dress, and a final polish on her hair and makeup that gave her more confidence than she expected.

  As she eyed herself in the gold cocktail dress, she was floored at how chic she looked. The cowled halter bodice hung low across her modest chest and the snug fabric hugged her hips in a way that flattered her figure without being obvious. The color brought out the lighter strands in her hair and made her skin look like fresh cream.

  The stylist had trimmed her mop, then let its natural wave take over, only parting it to the side and adding two little pins so her face was prettily framed while the rest fell away in a shiny waterfall around her shoulders. She applied false eyelashes, but they were just long enough to make her
feel extra feminine, not ridiculous.

  “I’ve never known how to make my bottom lip look as wide as the top,” Viveka complained as her lips were painted. The bruise Grigor had left there had faded overnight to unnoticeable.

  “Why would you want to?” the woman chided her. “You have a very classic look. Like old Hollywood.”

  Viveka snorted, but she’d take it.

  She had to acknowledge she was delighted with the end result, but became shy when she moved into the lounge to find Mikolas waiting for her.

  He took her breath, standing at the window with a drink in his hand. He’d paired his suit with a gray shirt and charcoal tie, ever the dark horse. It was all cut to perfection against his frame. His profile was silhouetted against the glow of the Acropolis in the distance. Zeus, she thought, and her knees weakened.

  He turned his head and even though he was already quite motionless, she sensed time stopping. Maybe they both held their breath. She certainly did, anxious for kind judgment.

  Behind her, the stylist left, leaving more tension as the quiet of the apartment settled with the departure of the lift.

  Viveka’s eyes dampened. She swallowed to ease the dryness in the back of her throat. “I have no idea how to act in this situation,” she confessed.

  “A date?” he drawled, drawing in a breath as though coming back to life.

  “Is that all it is?” Why did it feel so monumental? “I keep thinking that I’m supposed to act like we’re involved, but I don’t know much about you.”

  “Don’t you?” His cheek ticked and she had the impression he didn’t like how much she did know.

  “I guess I know you’re the kind of man who saves a stranger’s life.”

  That seemed to surprise him.

  She searched his enigmatic gaze, asking softly, “Why did you?” Her voice held all of the turbulent emotions he had provoked with the act.

  “It was nothing,” he dismissed, looking away to set down his glass.

  “Please don’t say that.” But was it realistic to think her life had meant something to him after one glimpse? No. Her heart squeezed. “It wasn’t nothing to me.”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted tightly. His eyes moved over her like he was looking for clues. “But I wasn’t thinking ahead to this. Saving a person’s life shouldn’t be contingent on repayment. I just reacted.”

  Unlike his grandfather, who had wanted to know he was actually getting his grandson before stepping in. Oh, Mikolas.

  For a moment, the walls between them were gone and the bright, magnetic thing between them tugged. She wanted to move forward and offer comfort. Be whatever he needed her to be.

  For one second, he seemed to hover on a tipping point. Then a layer of aloofness fell over him like a cloak.

  “I don’t think anyone will have trouble believing we’re involved when you look at me like that.” He smiled, but it was a tad cruel. “If I wasn’t finally catching up to someone I’ve been chasing for a while, I would accept your invitation. But I have other priorities.”

  She flinched, stunned by the snub.

  Fortunately he didn’t see it, having turned away to press the call button to bring back the elevator.

  She moved on stiff legs to join him, fighting tears of wounded self-worth. Her throat ached. Compassion wasn’t a character flaw, she reminded herself. Just because Grigor and Hildy and this jackass weren’t capable of appreciating what she offered didn’t mean she was worthless.

  She couldn’t help her reaction to him. Maybe if she wasn’t such an incurable virgin, she’d be able to handle him, she thought furiously, but that’s what she was and she hated him for taunting her with it.

  She was wallowing so deep in silent offense, she moved automatically, leaving the elevator as the doors opened, barely taking in her surroundings until she heard her worst nightmare say, “There she is.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MIKOLAS WAS KICKING himself as the elevator came to a halt.

  Viveka had been so beautiful when she had walked into the lounge, his heart had lurched. An unfamiliar lightheartedness had overcome him. It hadn’t been the money spent on her appearance. It was the authentic beauty that shone through all the labels and products, the kind that waterfalls and sunsets possessed. You couldn’t buy that kind of awe-inspiring magnificence. You couldn’t ignore it, either, when it was right in front of you. And when you let yourself appreciate it, it felt almost healing...

  He never engaged in rose smelling and sunset gazing. He lived in an armored tank of wealth, emotional distance and superficial relationships. His dates were formalities, a type of foreplay. It wasn’t sexism. He invested even less in his dealings with men.

  His circle never included people as unguarded as Viveka, with her defensive shyness and yearning for acceptance. Somehow that guilelessness of hers got through his barriers as aggression never would. She’d asked him why he’d saved her life and before he knew it, he was reliving the memory of pleading with everything in him for his grandfather—a stranger at the time—to save him.

  Erebus hadn’t.

  Not right away. Not without proof.

  Words such as despair and anguish were not strong enough to describe what came over him when he thought back to it.

  She had had an idea what it was, though, without his having to say a word. He had seen more in her eyes than an offer of sex. Empathy, maybe. Whatever it was, it had been something so real, it had scared the hell out of him. He couldn’t lie with a woman when his inner psyche was torn open that far. Who knew what else would spill out?

  He needed escape and she needed to stay the hell back.

  He was so focused on achieving that, he walked out of the elevator not nearly as aware of his surroundings as he should be.

  As they came alongside the security desk, he heard, “There she is,” and turned to see Grigor lunging at Viveka, nearly pulling her off her feet, filthy vitriol spewing over her scream of alarm.

  “—think you can investigate me? I’ll show you what murder looks like—”

  Reflex took over and Mikolas had broken Grigor’s nose before he knew what he was doing.

  Grigor fell to the floor, blood leaking between his clutching fingers. Mikolas bent to grab him by the collar, but his security team rushed in from all directions, pressing Mikolas’s Neanderthal brain back into its cave.

  “Call the police,” he bit out, straightening and putting his arm around Viveka. “Make sure you mention his threats against her life.”

  He escorted Viveka outside to his waiting limo, afraid, genuinely afraid, of what he would do to the man if he stayed.

  * * *

  As her adrenaline rush faded in the safety of the limo, Viveka went from what felt like a screaming pitch of tension to being a spent match, brittle and thin, charred and cold.

  It wasn’t just Grigor surprising her like that. It was how crazed he’d seemed. If Mikolas hadn’t stepped in... But he had and seeing Grigor on the receiving end of the sickening thud of a fist connecting to flesh wasn’t as satisfying as she had always imagined it would be.

  She hated violence.

  She figured Mikolas must feel the same, given his past. Those last minutes as they’d come downstairs kept replaying in her mind. She’d been filled with resentment as they’d left the elevator, hotly thinking that if saving a person’s life didn’t require repayment, why was he forcing her to go to this stupid party? He said she was under his protection, but it was more like she was under his thumb.

  But the minute she was threatened, the very second it had happened, he had leaped in to save her. Again.

  It was as ground-shaking as the first time.

  Especially when the aftermath had him feeling the bones in his repaired hand like he was checking for fractures. His thick silence made
her feel sick.

  “Mikolas, I’m sorry,” Viveka said in a voice that flaked like dry paint.

  She was aware of his head swinging around but couldn’t look at him.

  “You know I only had Trina’s interest at heart when I came to Greece, but it was inconsiderate to you. I didn’t appreciate the situation I was putting you in with Grigor—”

  “That’s enough, Viveka.”

  She jolted, stung by the graveled tone. It made the blood congeal in her veins and she hunched deeper into her seat, turning her gaze to the window.

  “That was my fault.” Self-recrimination gave his voice a bitter edge. “We signed papers for the merger today. I made sure he knew why I was squeezing him out. He tried to cheat me.”

  It was her turn to swing a surprised look at him. He looked like he was barely holding himself in check.

  “I wouldn’t have discovered it until after I was married to Trina, but your interference gave me a chance to review everything. I wound up getting a lot of concessions beyond our original deal. Things were quite ugly by the end. He was already blaming you so I told him I’d started an investigation. I should have expected something like this. I owe you the apology.”

  She didn’t know what to say.

  “You helped me by stopping the wedding. Thank you. I hope to hell the investigation puts him in jail,” he added tightly.

  He was staring at her intently, nostrils flared.

  Her mouth trembled. She felt awkward and shy and tried to cover it with a lame attempt at levity. “Between Grigor and Hildy, I’ve spent most of my life being told I was an albatross of one kind or another. It’s refreshing to hear I’ve had a positive effect for once. I thought for sure you were going to yell at me...” Her voice broke.

  She sniffed and tried to catch a tear with a trembling hand before it ruined her makeup.

  He swore and before she realized what he was doing, he had her in his lap.

  “Did he hurt you? Let me see your arm where he grabbed you,” he demanded, his touch incredibly gentle as he lightly explored.