From the Torrid Past

by Ann Cristy

  Keele lifted the bell and rang it once, twice, three times, not looking away from her. The glitter in his eyes made her shiver.

  She sensed that he would welcome the scene with her, that he would like nothing more than to tangle with her at that moment. A highly developed sense of danger stilled the hand gripping the wineglass. The urge to throw it was almost overpowering, but the violence emanating from him was palpable. She had the feeling that at that moment nothing would have given Keele Petrakis more pleasure than to throw her through a window. She looked down at her plate as Maria scurried into the room.

  "Maria, you will bring Mrs. Kincaid a steak, broiled medium rare as you have been shown. Do it at once." Keele's voice was like an axe hitting wood. Maria almost ran to the kitchen.

  D'Arcy sat there, feeling the dampness in the palms of her hands, looking down at her plate. "I'm not that much of a steak eater either," she muttered, throwing a razor glance at Keele before looking down at her plate again. She could feel four pairs of eyes boring into her.

  She fondled the serrated-edged meat knife that lay next to her plate.

  "If you try to plunge that into me, D'Arcy, I shall turn you over my knee and paddle you in front of the company." He smiled as he whispered this for her ears alone.

  "I've never seen a shark smile before," D'Arcy observed, letting her own mouth widen in response to his.

  "Remember that they bite." He grinned at her, his eyes like gold ore.

  D'Arcy looked at her plate, anger and embarrassment warring in her as she felt Madame Davos's eyes on her.

  The silence at the table seemed to stretch until Gregor Arfos asked Steve Linnett about the business in New York. D'Arcy blessed the gruff Greek's carrying voice •hat filled the void.

  When Maria returned with the pewter platter of steak, the succulent steam wafting around the table. She placed it in front of D'Arcy and conversation died again.

  "I regret that I didn't know of your aversion to lamb, Mrs. Kincaid," Madame stated, her words having a hint of frost.

  D'Arcy looked down the table at the other woman, moistening her lips to speak, feeling the heat in her face. "Madame, I..."

  "Eat your steak, D'Arcy," Keele interrupted, giving her a hard look before glancing toward his aunt. "Of course you didn't know of D'Arcy's aversion to lamb, otherwise you would have ordered the steak for her yourself. Your graciousness as a hostess is well-known," Keele pointed out, lifting his tulip-shaped wineglass and gesturing toward his aunt.

  The others also lifted their glasses. D'Arcy saw the momentary tightness of Madame Davos's mouth before she tilted her head toward her nephew, acknowledging his toast.

  The moment passed, but D'Arcy was aware of the others watching her as she tackled the king-sized steak. It was succulent meat but too much for her. She gasped when Keele leaned over and asked for the piece of meat that was on her fork. Rather than create a fuss she gave it to him, glowering. She could hear the surprised murmurs of the others, but she didn't look away from her plate. At last Maria removed the meat platter and D'Arcy sighed with relief.

  "Keele, I hope you told Ms. Kincaid how foolish she was to swim out into the boating lanes today," Elena purred.

  "Was there a problem with the boat?" Gregor Arfos's bull head swung like a pendulum.

  "No problem with the boat," Keele observed dryly. "A little problem with the driver."

  Elena pouted. "Now Keele, was it my fault that Ms. Kincaid endangered herself?"

  "Call her D'Arcy for God's sake," he snapped back. "And yes it was your fault for not taking more care."

  Elena looked not the least contrite, shrugging as she stared at Keele. "It is not my fault that she acted stupidly!"

  D'Arcy inhaled a deep breath, glaring at the other woman. Before she could say anything, Anna Davos interrupted.

  "Tomorrow, Mrs. Kincaid, you and I will begin in the morning. I have decided that I will rise early and then we will be done with this in one day. Does that suit you?" She stared at D'Arcy.

  "Interviews are not normally conducted that rapidly." Keele ground his teeth together.

  "It is for me to say how long this interview will take. The interview is with me. I wish to be finished tomorrow. Can it be done, Mrs. Kincaid?"

  "Yes, it will be difficult, but it can be done, I think. Though it will take the entire day, plus I have to get all the pictures."

  "Yes, yes, we will get all the pictures you want. Now I think if we are to get an early start we should get to bed, Mrs. Kincaid." Anna Davos's chin was thrust forward. She didn't look at her nephew as she spoke.

  D'Arcy rose, nodding, aware of the churning stillness of Keele. She knew he was watching her as she made her goodnights to the other occupants of the room, but she didn't look at him. Just before she left the room, she muttered a quick goodbye in his direction, then followed Madame Davos.

  Maria brought her a cup of steaming Greek coffee a few minutes after seven the next morning, informing her at the same time that she was to breakfast with Madame Davos in her room.

  The interview was conducted over breakfast and after, in Madame's bedroom, then in her sitting room. D'Arcy interrupted herself often to take shots of Madame and the villa. Lunch was a quick affair that sat in D'Arcy's stomach like a rock. She was made fully aware that Madame Davos was rushing her away from the island of Keros. Madame had informed her that Keele had left Keros on business and that she herself would arrange for D'Arcy's departure in the early evening.

  That night at the hotel in Athens, D'Arcy sat on the bed and reread her notes. It was going to be a good article despite how Madame Davos had rushed her. She climbed into the rather lumpy bed and was asleep almost at once, happy that she would be seeing Sean again, unhappy that she couldn't get the Lion of Keros from her mind. Keele Petrakis had taken hold of her, shaken her from stem to stern, wrung her out and left her feeling like a rag. She would gladly have made a moussaka of him!

  The flight home was uneventful. She had found carvings of the Acropolis and wooden soldiers for Sean. She was bringing Henry some ouzo and Adelaide a woven spread.

  The weeks following were happy even if she couldn't quite start or end the day without thoughts of Keele. He would crop up in the strangest ways. If a man walked down the street with chestnut hair that had reddish highlights, D'Arcy would find her breathing impeded. If she saw the back of a very tall man, her eyes would follow him until she was sure it wasn't Keele. It angered her, but she seemed unable to stop.

  It was good to be back with Sean. He had had much to tell her of nursery school.

  "I'm the biggest, Mommy," he said proudly one day. "And I'm the troll. Jimmy wanted to be but I'm biggest." He smiled toothily, making D'Arcy's heart jerk.

  "You're my biggest darling." D'Arcy hugged him, making him laugh even as he squirmed away from her. Sean was getting to the age where he didn't want anyone to think he was too close to his mommy. "Don't you want to hug me?"

  "Yes, but don't tell Jimmy, Mommy," Sean solemnly told her while his sticky hands rubbed her cheeks.

  She crossed her heart that she would keep the secret. Jimmy would never know.

  He raced toward Adelaide's car, hugging his wooden soldiers and talking a blue streak before the car door had closed.

  After he left D'Arcy really had to hurry to catch the train. She found that more and more she wanted to spend every moment with Sean and so she left late and had to race to get to the office on time.

  Her VW was battered looking but it started on the first try and got her to the station. On the train ride into Manhattan she went over the notes she had made from the letters she had received from Anna Davos. There hadn't been much that Madame had wanted changed from the galleys that had been sent her and the small changes wouldn't be difficult.

  She rushed into her little office cubicle, answering the phone as she stuffed her purse into her desk. "Yes? Gregson? Yes, I'll come right away."

  She pushed open the door to Gregson's office and stopped dead as Steve Li
nnett rose from a chair near Gregson's desk. "Hello, Mrs. Kincaid. I was just telling your boss that we've met. That's why I asked that you be the one to do the piece on our firm."

  D'Arcy shook his hand, remembering how he'd said they wouldn't stand on the ceremony of last names. But he had just referred to her as "Mrs. Kincaid." "Hello," she replied. "It's nice to see you, but I don't think I have the technical know-how to do a fair job on Keele Industries, Mr. Linnett."

  "Sit down, D'Arcy, and never mind the bull." Gregson stabbed the air with his cigar. "If Keele Industries wants you to do it, that's fine with me. Linnett here tells me that one of the main office complexes is right here in Manhattan. Do you know the Athene Building, D'Arcy?"

  "Yes, of course, it's just a few blocks away, but I still don't see..." D'Arcy began, determined not to take the assignment. Even though Keele was across the ocean, there would be other reminders of him and she was determined to blot him from her mind. Fat chance, a nasty little voice mocked her, when your son is a miniature of him.

  "Damned convenient," Gregson growled, waving his cigar at D'Arcy and making her cough. "She'll be glad to do it, Mr. Linnett. She'll be there tomorrow morning. Nice doing business with you." Gregson rose, ushering an amused Steve Linnett from his office and totally ignoring a fuming D'Arcy.

  "I know nothing whatsoever about technology," D'Arcy began.

  "Not to worry. They aren't. Did a good job for Anna Davos, so she must have said something to the Keele people. Connection there I think." He harrumphed, sinking back into his chair.

  "Keele Petrakis is Anna Davos's nephew," D'Arcy said through clenched jaws.

  "That so?" Gregson looked diverted.

  "Yes. Now about me doing this..."

  "You are doing it, D'Arce, starting tomorrow. Just check in every third day or so. Good luck."

  "Don't call me D'Arce," she muttered, glaring at Gregson as she retreated out the door. She would have to do it. Gregson saw it as an opportunity not to be missed. She could tell from his bullish look that he wouldn't change his mind.

  The next morning, as she stepped from the Long Island train, D'Arcy kept thoughts of Sean in her mind. They stopped her stomach from churning at the idea of remaining at Keele Industries for days, if she were unlucky, perhaps weeks. She smiled as she remembered her son lifting his fire truck into the car, his face creased in determination, shunning any help at all, his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth. She chuckled to herself as she strolled down Sixth Avenue, hurrying on as two women glared at her suspiciously.

  The Athene Building was a fairly new high-rise in glass and stone, poking into the blue sky like a giant harmonica, it metallic-looking windows glistening.

  A uniformed guard took her name and consulted his list. Then he pointed to a bank of elevators, telling her to take the far one, a little removed from the others and marked private.

  She was the only one in the car and there were no stops along the way. When the last light went on, the elevator stopped, making D'Arcy feel that her calves had jumped into her thighs.

  She stepped into a chrome and glass foyer. A perfectly coiffed receptionist smiled and gestured at her to enter the scrolled oak doors to one side of the foyer, also marked private. The doors opened at some secret command or hidden signal. D'Arcy had the feeling that she had suddenly gone deaf as she walked through a small inner office where men and women were peering into word processors and computers. Another wraith rose and gestured at another set of scrolled oak doors. She found the mix of chrome and oak pleasing.

  A lone woman sat behind an oak desk. She rose, openly studying D'Arcy.

  "Mrs. Kincaid? Will you go through that door, please?"

  D'Arcy had stiffened at the other woman's assessing look; still bristling she nodded and went through the door. But she stopped on the threshold and stared around her. The room was circular, like a tower room, the windows bowing out in a semicircle of glass. Sunlight streamed in, making the view of New York harbor look like a wraparound mural. D'Arcy hardly noticed when the desk chair that had been facing the windows swiveled around and the man sitting there replaced the phone and rose to his feet.

  D'Arcy pulled her eyes from the panorama, her smile fading as she looked at the tall figure framed in the window, his face shadowed but that tall build unmistakable. "You," she croaked. "What are you doing here?"

  "I work here," Keele answered dryly. "And this happens to be my company."

  "I know that," she snapped. "But what are you doing here? I should be in Steve Linnett's office. Is this it?"

  "No, this is mine," Keele answered, a hard amusement on his face as he studied her belligerent glare.

  "Then do you mind telling me where Steve's office is?" She spun on her heel, as much to hide the tremor in her hands as to escape.

  "You'll be working with me since I know more about my own firm than anyone." Keele's voice was smooth, but D'Arcy had the feeling that his voice was a death knell.

  She whipped around to face him. "You can't be serious? You're too busy to bother yourself with an interview. Besides I like Steve and feel we can work together," she said in firm tones, watching the gold ore look in his eye in wary expectation.

  "That's the second time you've called him Steve." His tone was silky, but D'Arcy saw the whitened knuckle as he gripped the gold lighter before lighting his slim cigar. "Have you seen Steve since your return to the States?"

  "Don't be ridiculous! I saw him yesterday for the first time since leaving Greece," she said, her voice testy as she tried to mask the butterfly feeling that was in all her limbs. She had to get away from this man! "We're Americans. We don't stand on ceremony with one another."

  "Did he call you D'Arcy?" His voice was even softer but she had the feeling that she was in the company of the real troll, not the make-believe one that Sean portrayed in nursery school.

  "No, not this time, but in Greece we..."

  "I see. Now you will be working with me so you can call me Keele." His hard smile touched her like a razor.

  "You are too busy..."

  "Will you stop telling me what I can do and can't do? Bossy women annoy me." He leaned over his desk and flicked the ash from his cigar into a gleaming silver ashtray.

  D'Arcy moved toward him, clenched fists on her hips. "I am not a bossy woman, but since you feel that way, get someone else." She thrust her chin forward.

  When he straightened, he was much closer than D'Arcy liked, but she didn't want him to see her retreat so she stayed where she was. He reached out one finger and traced her jutting chin. "You are the feistiest female I have ever seen."

  "And you have met hundreds of women, no doubt," D'Arcy responded in scathing tones, wishing she couldn't feel his breath on her cheek.

  "No doubt." He laughed down at her, making her heart jerk out of rhythm. The man was lethal, D'Arcy thought. He should be bottled and labeled with a skull and crossbones.

  She took a deep breath, about to launch into a series of reasons why she would not be on this assignment, when the interoffice buzzer rang.

  Keele picked it up, speaking Greek. He broke the connection and turned to D'Arcy. "I'm afraid I'm running late. I'll pick you up this evening..."

  "No!" D'Arcy exclaimed, horrified, picturing him seeing Sean. "Perhaps you could find me an office, then I could gather some background. Is there anyone whom I could ask about the things I need?"

  His eyes narrowed on her. "I'll arrange something with Gerta. But it won't be Steve." He fired the words at her like missiles before storming from the room.

  She looked at the still quivering door and the smooth, sophisticated Gerta, mouth agape, staring in at her. "The bastard," D'Arcy mumbled, not looking at the whispering woman as she explained that she would be glad to show her to an office and provide her with an assistant.

  "Ahem... also Mr. Petrakis has informed me that you would find it easier not to commute to your home. We have suites in some of the hotels that you are welcome to use."

  D'Arcy'
s head jerked up. "Yes. Yes, that would be best. I'll arrange to stay in town today. And thank you, Miss..."

  "Mrs. Olsen," she said pointedly.

  D'Arcy felt uncomfortable in the company of Gerta Olsen, who led her to the small area of offices where she would be working. There was another, younger, woman sitting in front of the typewriter as they entered the small outer office.

  "This is Mary Marioty, Mrs. Kincaid. She will be assisting you while you are at Athene Ltd." Gerta Olsen showed her eagerness to be quit of D'Arcy as soon as the introductions were completed. She exited at once.

  "Isn't she a darling?" Mary Marioty grimaced, making D'Arcy laugh. "I'm Greek, but American born. My husband Miklos was born in Salonika but acts as though he were born here." Mary's impish dark eyes were alight with humor.

  The day sped. D'Arcy and Mary lunched at their desks. D'Arcy took time to take pictures of the interior of the Athene Building, which Mary informed her housed not just Keele Industries in the States but all of Athene Enterprises, which included shipping, both air and sea, and diversified electronics interests. D'Arcy was both appalled and impressed at the scope of Keele's empire. Mary made no secret of the fact that it was Keele Petrakis who ran Athene, and not Anna Davos as much of the world thought.

  That night in the suite at the Grand Hyatt, after she had unpacked some things she'd purchased, D'Arcy telephoned Long Island again and explained her predicament to Henry and Adelaide more fully. But of course they didn't know the worst past—that she was in the company of Sean's father. Not even to them had she ever told the truth of Sean's paternity, even though she was sure they knew Rudy Alessio was not the father.

  "Sean, darling, I'll call you every day. Yes, darling, I'll miss you too. Take care of Adelaide and Henry, yes, and take care of Rag and Mushroom, too. I shouldn't be more than two days, three at the most. Love you." D'Arcy swallowed as she replaced the receiver, missing her son with a hollow ache. He was her life. Nothing else would ever really matter, she told herself, doubling up her fists. No other love would interfere ...