by Sandra Scott
A low, hungry growl broke free between his curled lips. “Yet I believe this much. You’ve somehow put a spell on my brother, leading him around by the nose.” He sniffed her. “Mentally blocking his senses with your scent, face, and body so he cannot reason, cannot see you do not belong with him.”
Abruptly, he released her hands. Wrapping one arm around her waist to keep them joined, he used the other to reach around to the nape of her neck, digging deep into her thick hair, holding her head in a power lock. His tongue blazed another trail across his lips, as if he hungrily contemplated a succulent meal.
“But you will never bewitch me like you did Jayson or even Paulo. I’m not afraid of you, Aphrodite.”
Time skidded to a brief halt as Andra took in his words.
“What did you call me?” she finally asked, her eyes fastened like glue to his hovering lips. “Who?”
“Aphrodite.”
He drew the word out as if he uttered it while in a hypnotic trance.
Andra remained motionless. Their intimate embrace paralyzed her, draining her body of strength. She knew she couldn’t pull away, even if Jayson were to come into the room and discover them in such a compromising position.
“You make a man’s blood boil,” he continued. Contradictory to his words, the inflection in his voice remained monotonous. “You call to them with your bewitching face and perfect body and lure them to their deaths. Jayson is too naive. He does not have the capability to handle the likes of you. You should work your wiles on someone stronger, someone who can handle you.”
“Who?” she whispered. “You?”
A crackling silence met her question.
Andra stiffened as his hand slowly pushed her head forward, moving her closer, and she found herself lost inside his eyes as his mouth descended upon hers.
Abruptly, Stefano ducked his head and coughed. He released her, pushing her away with such force that she staggered backward on surprised feet. While she fought to regain her footing, her alarm heightened as she watched his body spasm in a violent coughing fit. He covered his mouth, the seizure pushing his lips deep into his open palm.
His face turning an off shade of red, he turned from her and doubled over. His coughing continued as he stumbled toward the bedroom door.
Immediately, her inner doctor pushed forth, and she reached out to him. “Stefano, wait!”
Before she could stop him, he flung open the bedroom door and threw himself out into the hall. Stunned, Andra heard Stefano’s feet trip along the corridor, taking him farther away; his coughing grew fainter until it finally faded in the distance.
It took a paralyzing moment to unfreeze from the electrified encounter with her brother-in-law and their even stranger parting. Shaken to the core, Andra quickly crossed over to the door and leaned out, searching the deserted hallway. Slowly, she backed up and kicked the door shut.
With a shaking hand, she locked it.
Struggling to regain her composure, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She placed one hand over her mouth, recalling the unwanted physical pull her brother-in-law had over her. Gradually, her shame amplified upon her realization that she hadn’t thought about Jayson during those final seconds locked inside Stefano’s arms.
Lowering her hand, Andra used learned yoga breathing techniques to pull her physical and emotional state together. Just then, the cool midmorning air gently touched her bare breasts, causing her shame to reignite at her state of half dress. Her guilt-laden eyes lowered to her robe as she rewrapped it over her exposed flesh.
It was then she noticed the splatters, their crimson color heightened against the snow-white backdrop of the cloth—bloodstains that hadn’t been there prior to Stefano’s visit.
19
Strolling with precise movements across the hotel suite, Hog hastily tucked in his shirt and adjusted the waistband of his pants. He lastly combed his fingers through his thick silvery hair, making sure he was presentable for his next meeting.
The second series of knocks commenced before he reached the door. After taking a moment to plaster a welcoming grin upon his face, he pulled it open and automatically extended his hand toward the nervous person who stood on the other side. “Well, well, well, glad you decided to visit!”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grainger.” The young man paused to study the hand before reaching forth to complete the handshake. “I hope I have not kept you waiting.”
“Course not; you’re right on time. I like promptness in a business partner,” Hog said. Severing their grip, he heartily slapped his visitor on the back, the force of it causing his visitor to stumble across the threshold. “Git on in here, boy! Don’t be dawdling in the halls like some cagey, nervous cat.”
He waited for his guest to take a step farther inside the room before he glanced out into the hall, looking both ways. Closing the door, Hog turned toward him with a wide grin. “You sure you wasn’t followed, boy?”
The young man looked both confused and uneasy. “Certainly not, Mr. Grainger. Why would I be?”
Hog’s laughter was rambunctious. “Just a little humor to break the ice, son! Don’t you Athenians joke in this neck of the woods?”
The reticent man shifted from one foot to the other. With his nervousness, his accent grew thicker and his voice softer. “Yes, of course, Mr. Grainger. However, I did not believe this was the time for such levity.”
“There’s always time for such,” Hog pronounced. He walked around his guest to head for the sitting room, where the bar and mini-fridge were located. “And the name’s Hog, young man. Care to wet your whistle?”
The man chose not to follow and remained rooted to the spot. Hog glanced back toward the living room, and upon detecting the other’s air of confusion, he once again hooted with laughter. “That means a drink, son! Do you care for one?”
From the distance of the other room, the man shook his head.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I do.” Hog slipped behind the bar, pulled out a small bottle containing scotch, and poured it into a glass filled with ice. Taking a small sip, he smacked his lips in approval. “I just love you Greeks and your expensive hotels. Finest liquors around.”
Still standing by the exit, the younger man appeared at a loss regarding how to respond, so he simply nodded. “Mr. Grainger—”
“Hog,” he said.
The man’s face wrinkled in distaste. He then cleared his throat. “May we conduct our meeting? I’m expected back soon.”
“Sure, sure,” Hog said. He strolled from behind the bar, choosing the sofa to sit upon. “You’re dawdling again. Come on in here. Let’s do this.”
After hesitating a moment longer, the man moved forward to enter the sitting room. He lowered himself onto the single-back settee directly across from Hog, his frame straight and proper, but hurriedly rose to his feet again when the bedroom door slowly creaked opened.
Hearing the sound, Hog twisted in his seat and frowned. Sapphire cautiously emerged, her makeup smudged, long blonde hair wildly tousled, and clothing askew. As if expecting someone to jump her at any moment, she tentatively inched her way across the threshold only to stop short at seeing Hog and the newcomer to her left. Flinching, she cradled one swollen wrist against her chest while wrapping the other protectively about her waist.
Hog plastered a welcoming smile on his mug. “Well, come on out, darlin’—don’t just stand there simmering like a pig at a roast.” Hog winked at his gentleman visitor and finally stood, scooping her large white clutch off the coffee table in the process. As he walked toward her, she reversed a step until her backside collided with the bedroom doorpost. “Now, darlin’,” he said, overlooking her clumsiness to hold out her purse, “I know you want me to come back in and keep you company, but I’m conducting a business meeting right now.”
Her face stiff with fear, she stretched out her uninjured hand
and snatched the purse from his, clasping it to her bosom like a protective shield. Hog reached out, and at his touch, she bit her swollen bottom lip. Tears overflowed to splash on her torn blouse.
“Now, I’ve placed generous compensation for your time inside your purse.”
Sapphire closed her puffy eyes as if trying to block out his voice.
He laughed. “When we’re through, you go buy yourself some real expensive bauble, ya hear? Maybe get some medical attention for that wrist of yours; there’s plenty enough for it as well. I don’t have a problem paying for your clumsiness.”
Her body trembling, Sapphire shook her head. “No, you did …” Her voice trailed off when Hog stepped up to her, effectively blocking her from his other guest. “I’ll tell what you did to—”
“Now, you hush up. You hear me?” He leaned in to whisper, so close that his lips touched her outer earlobe. “Say another word in front of my business partner, and I’ll have a chat with your airline. I could tell them how you came to my hotel and propositioned me right here in Athens.”
Unable to speak, she again shook her head.
“Yes,” Hog threatened. He took his finger and gently ran it down the side of her face. “I even know enough of your higher-ups to get you fired and maybe get you sent to jail on prostitution charges.”
“No,” she moaned, more tears sliding down her cheeks. “They won’t believe you.”
“Maybe and maybe not. But I’ll tell you this much,” he said. His lips shifted until they almost kissed. “By the time I’m finished with you, your reputation won’t be worth a counterfeit nickel, will it?”
The double threat of his voice and words silenced her for good.
“So kindly get back in that room and wait for me.” Raising his volume for his guest to hear, Hog laughed good-naturedly. “Go on, darlin’. My friend here will understand that you prefer to stay in the bedroom—right, young man?”
His mouth open, the young man followed Sapphire with his eyes as she inched her way back into the bedroom and slammed the door. When Hog pivoted to face him, the visitor’s face displayed his disapproval.
“Is the young lady alright? She does not seem well.”
Hog waved away his alarm. “Don’t worry about her—she’s fine. She’s just one of those skittish types that’s not used to strange countries. Besides, I generously gifted her with enough money to chase away all her fears.” Hog returned to his couch and reclined. “And I can do as much for you too.”
Once the other settled uneasily in his chair, Hog reclaimed his scotch and took a long swig, draining it. He burped before plopping the empty glass on the coffee table between them. “Excuse me,” he said, pointing to it. He hiccupped while trying to suppress a second burp. “Alright. First, I would like to apologize for not takin’ a meeting with you when I first landed. I wrangled a few days for myself to sightsee. You understand?”
The man sniffed diffidently. “Of course. Our countryside has a lot to offer.” His worried eyes took a moment to return to the closed bedroom door and then back to Hog. “So how may I be of assistance to you?”
“Well, as I told you in my earlier communique, I’m looking to expand my investing,” Hog said, his voice lowering in its seriousness. “I understand from certain sources you might be able to help me with this particular investment.”
The man shifted anxiously. “How?”
“Well.” Hog yawned, stretching his arms out to his sides before letting them drop. “I know you’re pretty close with the owners, and I could make it worth your while if you help me make it happen.”
The man leaned forward. “To whom are you referring?”
“The Theonopilus clan.”
The man grew still, his facial expression a nonplus. “You mean Mr. Georigios, Stefano, and Jayson?”
“Uh huh,” Hog said with a short nod.
“Make what happen?” The younger man’s eyes narrowed. “If you are investing, would it not be easy to accomplish this on your own by simply asking them?”
Remaining silent for a moment, Hog slowly rose to head for the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he gazed into the clear blue-and-white skies the land of Greece offered. Gruffly, he cleared his throat. “Well, if it were merely to invest, yes.” His back still to his guest, Hog cleared his throat again. “But if it were a complete takeover, now, that would be a totally different situation.”
“A takeover?” The man’s confusion abruptly cleared. He jumped to his feet. “You mean rob the owners of their business?”
Hog pivoted to face the agitated man. “Now, look here, son. You and I both know they’re struggling to maintain themselves.” Hog shrugged. “Wouldn’t it be kinder to simply buy them out and take over the business? Would be kinda cruel to watch the owners lose everything and become destitute as the business folds on its own. Don’t ya think?”
Uncertainty crossed the man’s face. “But how are you to manage a—how you say—takeover? And what would you need with me?”
Hearing the reluctant acquiescence in the younger man’s voice, Hog returned to his chair and settled in. Much more relaxed, he waited for the other man to do the same. “Son, you just leave the logistics to me. But I need you as my eyes and ears on the inside; report any strategies or plans being made concerning the business. It could mean a lot of money in your pocket for your services.” Hog snatched up his glass for a refill; however, he put off revisiting the bar to stare intently at the other. “This could be a lot of money for everyone concerned, especially the owners. I’ll make sure to take real good care of them.”
Hog’s visitor shifted his eyes uncertainly, looking everywhere in the room but at him. “I don’t know.”
Hog abruptly slammed his empty glass on the coffee table, deliberately missing its protective coaster in the process. The man witnessed the reckless action and jumped in surprise, his eyes registering fear once they swung back to meet Hog’s.
“Listen, son, you’re either in or out. I met one of the owners while flying over here. I’ve already spotted his weakness. Once I get a hold of the older brother’s weakness too, I’m in like Flint. I may not even need you.” Hog settled back in his chair, his smile returning. “With or without your help, this is gonna happen. My boy, you need to stop playing possum—decide whether you want your piece of the pie before it’s gobbled up.” Hog stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
After rising slowly from his chair, the man doggedly trailed behind Hog, and his much thinner frame halted just as Hog reached the door.
Upon hearing the other’s footsteps cease, Hog turned to him. “Well, youngster?”
The man bristled. “Mr. Grainger, I’m not a youth.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes, settle down! It’s just a figure of speech,” Hog replied. He reached out and straightened the youngster’s shirt lapel. “One day, son, when you’re much older like me, you’ll learn to love such words.”
When the other remained silent, Hog sighed impatiently. “So you in?”
The dark olive tone of the younger man’s skin appeared ashen, as if he could throw up at any moment, but he managed a nod.
Good-naturedly, Hog slapped him on the back. “Cheer up, son—this is gonna work out just fine for everyone involved.” He opened the door to let his visitor out. “By the way, do you have a nickname?”
His young business partner swallowed hard, as if still attempting to suppress rising bile. He shook his head.
“No? Okay then,” Hog said, nodding pleasantly. “Now, this goes without saying, but you can’t let on about our plan to the Theonopilus clan. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.”
The warning was subtle, cloaked under the false ruse of friendliness, yet at the young man’s mute nod, Hog knew his young cohort had translated the words into their true meaning.
Hog gave him a friendly push out
the door. Once in the hallway, the ejected visitor turned to stare mutely at Hog.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, youngster. We’ll be in touch.” Satisfied, he closed the door on Paulo Menkos sickened expression, turned, and headed for his bedroom.
Now he just needed to tie up some loose ends.
20
With Sly’s parting words echoing inside his head, Jayson paced the floor inside Stefano’s office.
His attempt to wrap his mind around the things she’d revealed was a slippery, mind-boggling thing. The plot to destroy his marriage was hard enough to swallow, but Stefano’s attempt to include Sly in its sabotage was simply unbelievable.
Still, he couldn’t figure out what she’d meant by Stefano wanting something bigger than destroying his marriage to Andra.
With a small gasp, he stopped pacing when a childhood memory rushed at him.
His neighborhood friend Hermes had inherited a pony around the time they all turned ten years old. The brown-and-white-spotted animal had been given the name Eliá in honor of Athens’s local olive trade. Upon meeting the pet, he and Paulo had immediately fallen in love with it; even better, Hermes had unselfishly taken turns with them, where they learned to ride her throughout the countryside. However, after a few weeks, Paulo’s fascination for the animal had waned and shifted to other boyhood pleasures, while his enthrallment had grown until he’d jealously desired the prized pet for himself.
In childlike desperation, he’d asked Papa for a pony of his own, but Papa had denied his request for some reason he couldn’t recall. After his Papa had said no to his having a horse of his own, whenever he’d encountered Eliá, he grew angrier and angrier.
Subsequently, Jayson’s boyish love for Hermes’s pony had grown into hatred.
Now he knew why: because he couldn’t have her.
Ruefully, Jayson frowned as the mind-boggling revelation buried him under a cascading ton of bricks only to force from his lips a humorless laugh. Sly was wrong; he’d actually had to go back to his juvenile past in order to decipher the events that now took place in his adulthood.