Aphrodite's Stand

by Sandra Scott

  “Ever since my wife’s passing, I haven’t much joy except buying an occasional small company or investing money. At this point in my life, I’ve got more money than anyone can shake a stick at—and no one to leave it to.” Hog chuckled mirthlessly. “Me being by myself, I wouldn’t be able to spend it all if I lived ten lifetimes. I might as well do something worthwhile with it before I go home to be with my Beauty.”

  Hog ducked his head, rotating his hat within both hands. When he glanced up again, his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’ve taken a liking to your sister-in-law and all—like I said, she reminds me of my Beauty. If my paltry money can save her life, well then, this would be the best investment I could ever sink it into.”

  “Amen,” Jayson said through a watery smile. “We want to thank—”

  “But how will we be able to pay back so much money?” Stefano said, deliberately ignoring another of Jayson’s scathing glares. “You have intimately researched our family business. You must understand we cannot possibly repay you such a large amount anytime soon, if at all.”

  “Yes,” George said, moving to stand beside Stefano. “What is it you want in return?”

  Hog shifted on his feet, his beefy hands once again rotating his Stetson. He coughed uncomfortably. “Never you mind that, Mr. Theonopilus. We can always talk about these things later—after the doctor’s return.”

  Stefano shook his head, still ignoring Jayson. “I believe we must talk about this now—before we contact the kidnappers.”

  With a jerky motion, Jayson combed angrily through his hair; he lowered his hand, drawing Stefano’s attention by silently patting the pocket in which Andra’s rings lay hidden. “Must we?” Jayson said. “Remember—this is my wife we’re talking about!”

  Stefano took a moment to recall the rings—how they looked and how they’d sparkled before Jayson tucked them away prior to the annoying Texan’s arrival. He wanted to step into his brother’s shoes concerning his anguish over Andra. Although he felt a similar anguish, he also knew he carried a heavy responsibility for the entire Theonopilus family as a whole—one he was not ready to relinquish quickly.

  “Mr. Grainger?” Stefano finally said, closely watching Hog. “Again, what is it you want?”

  “All right, young Theonopilus,” Hog said slowly. He pivoted and walked away from the group, distancing himself. The lines in his forehead deepened within his silence. A few seconds passed before he faced Stefano directly. “Okay. I’ll take seventy percent stock in your company as collateral.”

  Paulo gasped, stumbling backward to cover his mouth in surprise. Sly stopped sniffling long enough to stare at Hog with reddened eyes. Al and Racine glanced around the room in naive expectancy, while Stefano and George stared at him in disbelief.

  Hog’s expression turned sheepish. “My proposal would give you three ten percent each as owners. Hopefully what I propose seems fair to you all.”

  Jayson rushed forward, grabbed Hog’s hand, and pumped it. “It’s a deal!”

  At Stefano’s objection, Jayson turned on him. “Yes! He can have my share—I’ll give it all away. I don’t care. I just want my wife and baby back.”

  The Texan’s eyes widened as a small smile lit his face. “Your lil’ woman’s pregnant?” Hog placed a large hand on Jayson’s shoulder—whether in congratulations or sympathy, the action was undecipherable. “Surely we must get your doctor back, by all means.”

  Jayson turned tearful eyes to Stefano and George, who remained silent.

  Hog’s arm dropped to his side as he turned to face Stefano. “Seventy percent—that’s my offer. I’ll leave it with you.” The Texan pulled out a business card and handed it to Jayson. “I meant to give this to you the last time I was here. My cell’s on it. Don’t wait too long to contact me. Things like this should be handled ASAP.”

  Hog grabbed Jayson’s hand and shook it in commiserating consolation. “If not handled swiftly and just right, this here kidnapping could quickly go south, if you know what I mean.” His pale blue eyes circled the group. “My condolences.”

  After putting his hat on, he silently tipped it and left the room, the sound of fading cowboy boots echoing across the outer foyer.

  The whole house vibrated as the front door slammed shut, and the sound caused Jayson to face Stefano and George, his expression livid. “We’re doing this, right? For Andra and my baby.”

  Wearily, Stefano glanced over at his father, and the older man’s eyes confirmed what needed to be done. Stefano nodded. “I believe we have no choice,” he said.

  Jayson’s frame sagged with instant relief at Stefano’s words. He then sprinted toward the study’s door. “Hog’s probably still outside!” he called over his shoulder. “I’m going to catch him before he pulls off—get the ball rolling for the money.”

  Stefano flinched upon hearing the front door open and slam shut for a second time. The sound was like a metaphor for the Theonopilus family’s future—it had become a closed door.

  42

  Sneezing, Hog ambled through his comfortable-sized villa to one-handedly pull dusty sheets from the sparse furnishings contained within the home. He allowed the dirty coverings to billow to the floor next to their corresponding pieces of furniture in an unheeded fashion, until he entered the last room, the kitchen. As he regarded the lonely area, his face and posture grew grim.

  Resting his hands on his hips, he let out an elongated sigh.

  To his own ears, the noise sounded like that of a wounded animal. He knew if he allowed it to go on any longer, it would turn into a broken sob—and now was not the time to fall apart, especially when things were finally going his way.

  Determined, he clamped his mouth shut, cutting off the sound. Instead of self-pity, he opened himself up to his inner rage. Now, anger—that’s an emotion a fella can get a lot done with.

  Allowing his eyes to adjust to the room’s dimness, he scanned the dusty kitchen countertops, antique-looking refrigerator and stove, and dull ceramic tile floors. Eventually, he would hire people from the village to do a major cleaning overhaul of the entire estate and maybe even have them perform some much-needed repairs. When he’d first arrived, he’d spoken with a few local villagers about securing their services for future work. However, he didn’t want to bring them onboard just yet.

  The timing wasn’t right.

  In the meantime, he would have to do any necessary cleaning and repairing himself.

  After his precious Beauty had been snatched from him years before, he’d taken up the gauntlet life handed him and chosen to cook and clean for himself. He didn’t mind doing domestic work. It kept his brain busy and focused during bleak times back at his Texas ranch. It stopped him from dwelling too hard on her.

  Needing to clear his head of unwanted memories, Hog shook it. He reminded himself of the present task at hand.

  Glancing to his left, he headed for the kitchen table and the woolen blanket neatly folded there. He grabbed it and tucked its scratchy thickness underneath one arm.

  Although it was early afternoon, the kitchen was dim; yet despite the gloom, he was unwilling to throw open all the shutters to let the sunlight in. Instead, he would settle for one open window to provide him light.

  Switching on the flashlight he carried, he headed for the door leading to the cellar. Upon disengaging the lock, he carefully opened it. Peering deep into an area even dimmer than the kitchen, he flashed his wide beam to and fro, making sure he wouldn’t encounter hanging spiders and cobwebs on the way to the lower level.

  Although he had earlier thoroughly cleaned the villa’s cellar, he knew spiders were efficient little dickens that could hang homes as quickly as a person could knock ’em down. To his relief, the stairwell was clear of arachnid activity.

  The circular beam bobbed as he descended the rickety stairs. When he reached the bottom, he noted the temperature had dropped, as if
he currently ran an air conditioner down there.

  Automatically, he glanced left at the room dedicated to the storage of fine wines.

  Beyond its threshold, he shined his light at shelves displaying empty round holes. When Beauty had been alive, they had spent long, carefree hours talking about traveling the world to bring home various vintage bottles of expensive chardonnay, cabernet, Dom Pérignon, and various chateau brands upon retiring to the Grecian villa for good.

  Smiling, Hog wiped his eyes. Her beautiful laughter echoed inside his head as she told him she wanted to celebrate life and having each other—with a strong drink.

  His smile disappeared.

  Those empty black holes were reminders she hadn’t lived long enough to fill them, and he realized that like those vacant slots, his life was empty and black.

  Stifling another anguished sob, Hog pointed his beam to the right. The illumination revealed a heavy wood-and-steel door locked from his side. With his free hand, he searched inside his pocket for its key and then inserted it and turned it clockwise. With satisfaction, he heard the inner mechanism disengage with a heavy clunk. Returning the key to his pocket, he grunted as he tugged the door open with one hand.

  As the door slowly creaked open, the unoiled hinges sounded especially loud in the cellar, creating an eerie echo.

  Gingerly, he stepped inside the room. He switched off his flashlight and placed it on a small table by the door, sliding it next to a desk lamp that provided limited lighting.

  “Hello, darlin’. I brought you a blanket. I know how cold it can get down here.”

  Hog strolled over to a narrow single-sized bed with a headboard and footboard made of solid brass. He stopped to admire the woman who lay there on her back with her hands extended upward, tied to the headboard, and her feet secured to its footboard. Her clothed body was toned and firm yet voluptuous, especially her breasts. Her nipples were taut and hard due to the low temperature inside the room.

  He wouldn’t have minded reaching out.

  Sighing wistfully, Hog shook his head. If his Beauty was alive, she wouldn’t be pleased with him doing such a thing. Besides, this was strictly business—no monkey business allowed.

  Well, at least not at the present time.

  He would first have to consult with Beauty’s spirit about the situation to see if she’d eventually allow him free reign to be a man.

  He flicked the blanket open and carefully covered the woman’s body to the waist. His eyes remained glued to her uncovered torso, studying her enticing bumps and curves. He loathed to cover up such magnificence.

  Despite Beauty’s memory, it was still tempting to cop a feel of silky brown skin. He sighed again, this time with lustful frustration.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone of quality,” Hog whispered to her, finally sliding the wool blanket up her body to completely hide it from his view. Delicately, he tucked the blanket into the cot and then straightened, placing his hands on his hips. “Darlin’, like I told your husband, you can set a man’s blood to boiling.”

  Andra’s brown eyes enlarged at his words, her mouth moving erratically in an attempt to speak beneath the black masking tape that sealed it shut.

  Hog laughed good-naturedly. “Don’t worry, Doctor. I won’t take advantage just yet—my Beauty wouldn’t like it if I didn’t at least get her approval first.”

  His gaze perused her body; he liked the way her shapely outline called to him beneath the blanket. His hands itched to remove it, but he fought the impulse.

  Hog’s eyes then crashed with Andra’s confused ones. “I know you don’t understand what’s happenin’ right now, Doctor, but you will—very soon. All I can tell you is this: everything’s going as planned.” He rubbed a rough palm across his dry lips as he skimmed her body again. “When I come back with your supper a little later, I’ll let you loose to do your business. Maybe we can even talk about the two of us getting together—after I confer with my Beauty, of course.”

  He stared hard at the blanket and smiled. “But I’m pretty sure I can predict what she’s gonna say.”

  43

  Stefano paced the floor of the study, stopping every now and again to glance at Jayson.

  On the telephone with Hog’s lawyer, his younger brother wore an expression that was all business as he handled the matters of expediting the deposit of Hog’s loan into their bank account and finalizing the subsequent contractual agreement transferring 70 percent of the Theonopilus company’s holdings into Hog’s hands.

  With every second, Stefano grew more and more agitated; his intuition told him that with each action they took, they were heading down the wrong path.

  Everything about the situation was erroneous. His apprehension had started with the returned wedding rings.

  Again, Stefano ceased pacing to study Jayson. He hung up to next dial the number disclosed in the kidnapper’s note. His expression now was comprised of restrained anger, and he shifted jerkily in his chair as he spoke to the unknown person.

  Stefano chose not to listen to the conversation and moved farther away to allow his brother some privacy; he wanted to give him space to be a man and deal with the grueling situation as he saw fit.

  Finding himself at a safer distance, Stefano resumed his pacing. Why would anyone return valuable jewelry if the whole purpose for taking Andra was money? And why did they choose Andra? Why not kidnap Papa, Jayson, or me? Taking Andra appeared too … Too what?

  An instant later, the word abruptly dropped inside his brain: personal.

  It was as if whoever had taken her somehow wanted to make a statement with her rings.

  Yet what statement?

  He ceased pacing once he realized Jayson had stopped talking. “So?” Stefano, followed by his father, arrived before Jayson as he hung up. “Is it done?”

  “Yes,” Jayson replied, his response curt. He cut his eyes sharply at them before looking away. “No thanks to you.”

  Ignoring his brother’s anger, Stefano shoved his hands into his pockets. “Did you recognize the voice on the other end?”

  “The voice was altered by a synthesizer or something, so no, I did not recognize it.”

  Their father moved closer to Jayson, placing a tender hand on his head. “Son, please do not think we were refusing to rescue Andra.”

  Jayson abruptly stood, forcing George’s hand to fall away. “I’ve got to call our bank to finalize everything. And if you don’t mind, I’d much rather handle it alone. I’ll be in my room.” Not waiting for a response, he stalked out.

  George sighed heavily. “Did we handle this one correctly?” he asked no one in particular.

  Despite not being personally addressed, Stefano answered. “Maybe, but perhaps not.” He walked toward the bar, finally giving in to his desire for a drink. He sighed as he dropped ice cubes into his glass. “This whole thing feels wrong, Papa.”

  Saying nothing, George quickly lowered his eyes to his polished shoes; still, Stefano managed to catch twin feelings of hurt and dismay within them.

  “Stefano, is it true what Racine said?” George asked, intentionally speaking in Greek so his words wouldn’t be deciphered. “Did you attempt to undermine Jayson and Andra’s marriage? Tell me my son would not do such a terrible thing.”

  Stefano stilled, unable to tell whether his hand shook from his illness or the fact that he had to tell his father the truth. He positioned the brandy decanter over his glass and poured the liquor carefully and slowly, attempting to delay the inevitability of watching the shame deepen within his father’s eyes at his reply.

  His own mortification now clear, he turned around with his drink in hand, knowing he had to face not only George but also himself. “Yes, Papa. It is true.”

  At his father’s tearing eyes, he experienced a twisting inside his gut.

  “Why, Stefano?” Geor
ge said.

  Stefano wavered between lying to spare his father even more disappointment or hurting the older man more by telling the truth. In the end, he knew there was only one answer. His existence was winding down fast; it dictated he couldn’t compromise the integrity inherited from his papa by trying to justify any underhandedness on his part.

  “The truth is, I was ignorant and prejudiced.” He paused and then added more softly, “And extremely selfish. It was I who somehow lost my philotimo.”

  At George’s continued silence, Stefano shook his head in misery. “My father, I’m sorry for my actions. I feel I may have set off this chain of events concerning Andra and her kidnapping.”

  George reached out and gently squeezed Stefano’s shoulder. Despite the light touch, Stefano still suffered a terrible weight beneath it. “Son, I’m quite relieved by your change of heart. And I’m extremely proud of you as well. It takes a great man to acknowledge when he is wrong and an even greater man to make a change for the better because of it. Your philotimo—your worthiness—is intact.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” he said gruffly, his father’s hand feeling not quite as heavy.

  Glancing at the brandy in Stefano’s hand, George appeared ready to pour himself one, only to change his mind. He instead studied Stefano’s troubled expression. “Son, tell me—why do you believe your actions may have caused the situation we now find ourselves in?”

  Frustrated, Stefano wiped his brow. “I truly do not know, Papa. Yet something continues to bother me.”

  “Yes?” George said. “What is it?”

  Unconsciously, Stefano switched back to English. “The rings,” he said, his voice rising in concern. “Why did they not keep them to sell? Those rings are worth a lot of money.”

  “Maybe it’s because they are Andra’s—plain and simple,” Racine spat from across the room. She ignored her mother’s signal to be still. “Those rings are unique to my sister and identify her as the person who’s been kidnapped.”