by Sandra Scott
“It’s ten o’clock, and the sun is shining outside.” Sly, like a feline stealthily watching a mouse, studied Andra’s movements. “Are you ever going to leave this room, Yatros?”
What’s it to you?
When no answer came, Sly shifted in her seat, looking at her perfectly groomed nails. “Papa Georigios is in notice of your absence, yes? Might even be put off by it, as you Americans say.”
Andra forced her demeanor to remain calm and kept folding. Coolly, she glanced toward the direction of her discomfort. “What can I do for you, Sly?”
Sly giggled, evidently amused at Andra’s dodge of her questions. “Oh, I just want some girl talk. I was unlucky not to have a sister while growing up.”
“But lucky for her,” Andra muttered.
“Signomi? What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
With a slight smile, Sly crossed her legs and adjusted her skirt accordingly. Tilting her head, she again watched Andra perform her activity through fathomless green eyes. She sighed dramatically. “Does Jayson know?”
Something in Sly’s tone caused Andra to involuntarily stiffen as her brain simultaneously flashed an image of her half-covered body crushed inside Stefano’s embrace. She let out a steady breath, proud of the fact that she kept her hands from outwardly trembling at the memory. “I don’t understand what you mean,” she said, selecting a lacy bra. With deliberate movements, she folded it the best she could. “Does Jayson know what?”
Feeling like an American field mouse closely watched by a Grecian hawk, she moved to the dresser and put the neatly folded clothing in its assigned drawers. She then straightened various knickknacks on the dresser’s surface. She kept her face averted, making sure to focus on the task at hand.
“Come now, Yatros,” Sly said, leaning forward. “You and Stefano.”
Andra’s head jerked up, only to catch her reflection in the mirror. It pronounced her guilty.
“Me and Stefano?” Her words trailed off at the memory of his glistening mouth hovering so close to hers—and the overwhelming desire and anticipation of a kiss that never came. She coughed and then put on her best haughty expression. “I cannot comprehend what you’re talking about—and I assume neither can you.”
Sly sat back and clapped with glee, although the merriment she displayed didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe the lady protests too much. It is the correct saying, yes?”
No! Andra silently objected, although she knew the girl had quoted it accurately enough. She reminded herself a good defense was a greater offense.
“Sly.” She spoke slowly, attempting to make her words painstakingly clear. “You were there at the dinner table. I’m pretty sure you witnessed how rude Stefano was to me.”
“Yes. I saw something.”
Andra’s shoulders lifted with a “There you have it” shrug.
Her naked breasts pressed against Stefano’s solid chest.
The room remained silent. Momentarily, Sly’s gaze traveled south to Andra’s chest, which was thinly covered by her well-worn sundress. Her Grecian eyes zeroed in on hard and pointy nipples. Smiling knowingly, Sly returned to Andra’s face. “There’s no need to get excited, Yatros Andra,” she teased with glossy red lips. “Stefano is not here, only me!”
Andra silently counted to ten again. “Sly.” Self-conscious, she hid her breasts behind crossed arms and took another deep breath. “I don’t know where you’re getting this stuff from, but what you’re doing is how rumors get started. There’s nothing going on between Jayson’s brother and me. Absolutely nothing.”
Their lower bodies pressed intimately together.
As if reading Andra’s mind, Sly giggled again.
Andra felt forced to attempt more reasoning. “I love Jayson—he’s my husband!”
Stefano’s hot breath slipping between her parted lips.
Andra forced aside that mental image, as well as Sly’s head bob—a nod Andra believed was in denial of, rather than agreement with, her declaration of love for Jayson.
“You should stay away from Stefano,” Sly said, her voice hopeful. “Avoid him altogether. So it can be no one will ever know.”
Her mouth open, Andra stared in paralyzed disbelief at the younger woman. A second later, she unfroze. “I’ve had enough.” She marched over to the door and yanked it open. “Sly, I won’t stand for your innuendos and snide comments. I didn’t want to be rude, but I guess I’ve got to. Please leave now.”
After peering one last time at the medical book, as if it would provide her the answers Andra refused to give, Sly once again dismissed it. She rose in all her loveliness and gracefully strolled toward Andra and the open door. “You are wrong. I believe you do want to be rude. But yes, I will leave.”
At the threshold, Sly turned to look directly at Andra. “However, let me ask you this—if I can see what is happening here, do you think maybe J. J. can see it too?”
Sly’s hawk-like stare regarded Andra’s ring finger, and her green eyes appeared to smolder as they took in the large solitaire and the accompanying diamond-studded band, which sparkled with genuine brilliance. Abruptly, she grabbed Andra’s hand, bringing the expensive wedding set in for a closer inspection. “Very nice.” She smiled sweetly as Andra jerked free. “You want to be careful not to lose such a valuable possession.”
Feeling childish, Andra stuck her left hand behind her back. “I can assure you the rings are insured if I lose them.”
The younger woman’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, your wedding rings.” Her lips curled into a wicked smile. “Of course—those too.”
Andra never wanted to belt someone so much in her entire life.
Sly tilted back her head, laughing with extreme merriment. She immediately composed herself, throwing Andra a sideways look. “Your return to the States—is it soon, yes?”
Staring at the insufferable woman, Andra had to stop herself from making an unsavory face. “I can only hope.”
Sly clicked her tongue, her expression pure innocence. “With or without J. J.?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Get out.” Grabbing hold of the doorknob again, Andra yanked the door open wider, yet to her irritation, her unwanted guest pretended not to notice.
“Well, I am off to shopping. Would you care to join me?” At Andra’s glare, Sly’s face beamed with pleasure at the silent refusal. “Maybe Jayson would like to go. I’ll ask. Have a good day, Yatros.”
Wanting to be done with their meeting, she forcefully shoved the lingering Sly into the hallway. “Yeah, you too.”
When shutting the bedroom door, Andra didn’t realize just how hard she slammed it until the noise behind it caused her to jump.
23
Stepping inside the family library located off the formal dining room, Andra blanched once greeted with a blast of balmy air.
As the sweltering noonday heat rolled over her body, Andra stopped to unfasten her sundress’s top buttons and immediately piled her thick mane on top of her crown. With her free hand, she wiped the beading sweat from the back of her neck.
She blew upward, the puff momentarily lifting curly ringlets off her moist forehead. Although other rooms throughout the huge villa allowed for circulation via their oversized doors and windows, their coolness didn’t quite reach the library area, which had much smaller windows.
Letting her hair tumble back into place, she paused to poke her head through the door to survey the library’s outer perimeter. It was deserted. Pulling back, she decided to shut herself in, choosing to bake inside a hot room than have anyone—whether friend or foe—catching her unaware via the open door.
At the thought of the word foe, Sly’s mocking expression rapidly invaded Andra’s thoughts. She pondered if the Grecian brat was currently with Jayson—or had her threat to occ
upy her husband’s time been a bunch of crap? Determined, she shook her head to clear it; she had no intention of expending any more brain neurons on the silly girl and her sly insinuations.
Drawn deeper into the room, Andra stopped alongside a round mahogany table located at its center. She took a moment to admire the heavy wood’s exquisitely formed dropped edges around the circular tabletop; the craftsmanship used to carve each vine, leaf, and flower implied its uniqueness and worth. Resting on its recently polished veneer was a Grecian-style wide-bottom vase that held a fragrant, colorful bouquet of freshly cut anemones, wild irises, and multicolored daisies that cheerfully rivaled the painted flower images on the container.
Each freshly cut flower was distinctive in its own right, yet together, as a whole, they formed a perfect sphere of beauty.
The beautiful flower arrangement caused Andra to think of her bridal bouquet, and the memory of its much smaller spherical perfection on her wedding day produced a sharp tug at her heart. She yearned to return to that carefree, albeit brief, period in her life.
Six months. I’ve only been allotted six months of happiness with Jayson, and now …
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Andra forced her thoughts beyond her wedding day and glanced about her. Her watery eyes magically dried as they circled the room, ultimately landing on the ceiling-high bookcase that climbed majestically up the entire north wall. She marveled at the number of books shelved within the multiple bookcases—enough to keep a person occupied until the next millennium. The overwhelming need to pull random books off the shelf and run back to the safety of her bedroom all but consumed her.
Are you in hiding? Sly’s voice asked inside her head.
“Shut up, you! What I want is to get back to the coolness of my room.”
Andra frowned at the outspoken lie, knowing her reason for a hasty retreat had little to do with the heat.
A handsome face, all angry hard lines, mentally replaced Sly’s question.
Piss off! You go away too!
Her brother-in-law’s image now chased into mental oblivion, she scanned the massive bookshelf. Each ascending shelf dared her to climb the bookcase’s literary bounty until she reached the top. Accepting the challenge, she approached the sliding ladder, reached out, and positioned it a few inches to her right.
She paused, her hand resting on the eye-level rung. Due to the heat, she wore only briefs underneath her sundress; she realized that once atop the ladder, she would be vulnerable to anyone passing below.
Maybe I should’ve put on a bra and shorts too before I left the room.
Andra chewed her bottom lip over her dilemma only to dismiss her fear of flashing people below her. Only Helena presently occupied the villa besides her. After her earlier encounter with Sly, she’d purposely dismissed the silly girl’s claim on Jayson’s time, remembering that he, Stefano, and their father had planned an all-day inspection of the southern vineyards—at Stefano’s request.
She snorted. Of course, at Stefano’s request. Figures! The man always has to have his way in everything.
Deciding to leave her negative thoughts concerning her brother-in-law at the foot of the ladder, Andra allowed her spirit of adventure to take over and carefully ascended the bookcase. At the top, she sighed with dizzy contentment. She reached out to run light fingers over expensive leather-bound spines, halting every few seconds when a title caught her interest.
After deliberating for a few minutes, she finally pulled three books of authors she recognized.
Humming the song “Man in the Mirror,” she hooked one arm through the ladder’s rung, tucked two of the classics under her free arm, and proceeded to flip open the third book. Her lips curled with delight as she mouthed the first few lines on page one, her anticipation mounting at getting lost inside the book’s rich plot once she returned to the bedroom.
The ladder jerked to one side.
Startled, Andra nearly dropped her books. Tightening her looped arm against the rung, she glanced past her feet to the ground below.
His head tilted, Stefano stood gazing from the bottom rung, his large hands now holding the sides of the ladder. His eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s and just as predatory. His sudden appearance, along with his intense expression, caused her body to tremble.
He stood perfectly still, his lips saying nothing, his dark eyes simply watching, waiting. A fire ignited within her cheeks in sync with the hammering of her heart. As if a faucet had turned on, Andra felt her sweating increase; however, she knew her body’s reaction had little to do with the closed-off heat inside the room, because her body had gotten used to it.
The inferno she now experienced rolled upward from him.
Andra closed her eyes and groaned, knowing her prophecy had come true. She was in a compromising position, perched on high, while the person she least wanted to be doing so was looking up her sundress.
Her eyes popped open. Silently, she cursed him for putting her in the predicament she now found herself. However, she overcame her blistering emotions to project an air of indifference by tossing her sticky hair.
“You look all of fifteen years old when you do that,” he said, his accented voice deceptively charming. “What are you doing up there?”
“What does it look like? I’m pulling books to read.” Despite her bravado, her knees locked, paralyzing her. She exhaled sharply. “Would you please stop staring up my dress?”
Calmly, as if she’d just asked him to pass her the morning paper, Stefano complied and turned his head. However, his grip on the ladder remained.
“What do you want?” she asked, resentful that he’d disturbed her peace. “Why are you here?”
He appeared unfazed by her hateful tone. “This is my home, no?”
Andra allowed her silence to answer for her.
“Come down before you hurt yourself, Doctor. I’ll steady the ladder for you.”
At his suggestion, which actually sounded more like a command, she hesitated. As the seconds ticked by, she grew more uncomfortable at his refusal to relinquish the ladder and step away. Still, she couldn’t stay perched atop that ladder forever; she didn’t want to appear as an impetuous brat who refused his gentlemanly gesture.
She’d already been tried, sentenced, and condemned as infantile in Jayson’s eyes. She refused to go through the same with his older brother.
Shifting her books to one arm, she inched her way along the ladder in a slow one-handed descent. Moving closer to him, she mentally crossed her fingers, praying he’d have the decency to step back and give her space by the time she hit the last rung.
He didn’t appear to have the same mind-set.
Andra sighed impatiently upon reaching the ladder’s midpoint. “Again, why are you here? I thought everyone left the villa to survey the groves.”
She was now a few rungs from the floor. He still hadn’t budged.
“I am a grown man,” he said patiently. “May I come and go as I please without permission?”
When Andra’s rear paralleled his averted head, his arms dropped, and he stepped back. Although she didn’t respond to his question, he continued as if she had.
“Yes, we are at this moment inspecting the groves. However, I returned home to take care of a matter.”
What matter? She almost asked aloud, only to bite the words back. She didn’t care—well, not really.
Once her feet touched the last rung, she lightly hopped from the ladder to land on nervous feet. Rotating his way, she was grateful his sight remained averted, because her body grew agitated at his presence, which was still uncomfortably close.
“But why are you here?” she demanded. “I mean, in this room?”
Andra’s breath caught once he finally faced her way. As always, his handsomeness took her by surprise, because when he wasn’t around, her mind produced an obscure picture of the devil himself
.
However, she had to remind herself the Bible revealed that at one time, Lucifer was the most beautiful creature created—before he became Satan.
“I have come for the same reason you are here,” the devil’s counterpart answered, his Grecian accent deliciously decadent. “I needed to retrieve a book.”
“Well, have at it.”
As Andra moved to step around him, Stefano reached out a large hand and placed it on the rung behind her head, stopping her. Her breath caught, only to come forth in shallow puffs when he moved closer, forcing her backside to connect with the ladder.
Stefano’s head dipped, his mouth stopping mere inches from hers. His lips mute, he hovered, as if waiting for a signal to cover hers.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Her body vibrated with fear and another emotion she refused to identify. Sly’s earlier accusations concerning their relationship floated inside her subconscious only to dissipate with Stefano’s sigh.
“You are a lovely, mystical creature,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “Siren. Temptress. I sometimes wonder if you are real.”
After their last encounter, when Stefano had called her Aphrodite, she’d used her cell to troll the internet, searching for information on the Greek goddess. Lovely, siren, temptress, and enchantress were some words used to describe the mythical female, among other sensual, and sometimes lewd, definitions.
Again, Sly’s smirking face filtered into Andra’s brain.
Defiant, she lifted her chin. She then slapped him, the force of it causing his head to jerk to one side. “If you’re referring to Aphrodite, I’m not that imaginary creature.” She wanted to shout yet only managed to push her words forth as a whisper. “You’re …”
The words delusional, deranged, and cuckoo came to mind.
Slowly, he turned back to her, his gaze even more intense. Seemingly unfazed by her violent action, he used his thumb and forefinger to lightly touch her chin.
“Stefano, please.” To Andra’s horror, her voice sounded breathless and throaty. “What do you want from me?”