Redeemed By Her Innocence (HQR Presents)

by Bella Frances

  He stepped out into the street and seemed to look over his shoulder.

  ‘OK? It’s the best I can do.’

  ‘I’ll take it,’ she said, knowing that this was in fact a better offer than she could ever have imagined. Travelling with Nikos to his villa in Greece. Lunch and then making her pitch. Surely this indicated that he was really interested in what she had to offer?

  ‘Could you give me ten minutes?’

  He checked his watch; he raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Five?’ she said.

  He nodded and stepped inside.

  ‘I’ll be right back.’

  With an energy she didn’t know she possessed Jacquelyn flew upstairs to the flat, ran a shower and was in and out of it in under a minute. She dragged a brush through her damp hair and tied it into a braid. She lathered cream on her face, hands and arms and threw her favourite cornflower-blue sundress over her head. With a minute to spare she applied deep pink lipstick, slid on gold jewellery and leather sandals.

  Never in her life had she gotten ready so fast. She looked flushed and desperate, but the light golden tan and blue of the dress picking out the blue of her eyes made the whole appearance somehow alive.

  Let that be a lesson, Jacquelyn Jones, she thought.

  She tossed a jersey dress into her bag and clean underwear, just in case, then grabbed her laptop, the folio of designs and looked around the studio. Coffee cups, handkerchiefs and the half-eaten slice of toast she had started and then discarded.

  She ran downstairs, pulled the door closed and went out into the courtyard where Nikos was waiting. He stood in profile, staring at the fountain, lost in thought.

  She beamed at him, carried away by her own enthusiasm and energy, but when he turned to look it was with a face etched deep with concern.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ she asked, suddenly stalling on the steps.

  He focused on her, swept her with his eyes and then his face seemed to brighten.

  He put his phone in his pocket.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Sure. All good. You look beautiful, Jacquelyn.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, astonished. Because getting a compliment from a man like him seemed to be worth more than getting a compliment from anyone else. It didn’t make her flesh crawl or make her feel patronised. And she wanted him to think she was beautiful.

  How odd that she should care...

  He smiled.

  ‘Let’s go to Greece,’ he said.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SO HE DIDN’T always make the right decisions, and extending a pity invitation to Jacquelyn Jones was definitely not one of his best. As soon as he’d taken the second call from Mark, he should have followed his first instincts and sent her a message.

  But when he’d found out that Ariana Bridal was only two miles from Maybury Hall he didn’t have the heart to drive by. And all he was going to do was offer her another place, another time, and, if he was completely honest, hopefully another agenda—one not related to business.

  With every passing minute he had regretted this gut reaction to those blue eyes. He owed her nothing but somehow he’d found himself agreeing to meeting her not once but twice. This was getting way out of hand.

  They’d had no time to talk on the flight—he could have predicted that—and the time of this pitch had dragged on now, to some post-lunch rendezvous, every minute heightening her optimism and dimming his.

  But in a way it had been a salvation having her chatting away and oohing and ah-ing about the scenery on this first journey back from the airstrip to the villa. He doubted she’d noticed him turn his head away when they neared the hairpin bend that dropped to the steep olive grove where Maria’s car had taken its tragic turn.

  The skid marks were still on the road, twin black lines, baked into the cement. On through the village of Agios Stephanos they drove—it was almost exactly as he remembered, the bakers, the store, the old men who stared, and dogs tied up in pockets of shade, barking at the cars as they passed.

  He pointed out the tiny old white church clinging to the side of the steep cliff, roughened with centuries of hot sun and windswept winters. His great-grandparents had been married there, and their parents and grandparents before them, but he kept those facts to himself.

  Further on, faded signs sent far-travelling tourists to sacred wells, and a stream trickled down to the level of the sea, where his private shingle beach presented itself to crystal-clear aquamarine waters, and where once upon a time he’d moored his boat.

  Once upon a time this had been the one place on earth he’d felt truly alive, and truly alone. It was in his DNA and it was a thousand miles from Sydney.

  Maria hadn’t particularly liked it here—too basic, too boring—and he’d seen no reason to try to change her mind. He’d kept it private and personal, loving his times alone here. Occasionally he’d entertained like-minded clients who’d turned into friends, but never, it had to be said, anyone who was still at the stage of pitching a proposal.

  He stood now in the library, sheaves of papers strewn all over the table. Beyond them, through the window, he looked out over the old familiar gardens and tennis courts, down to the pool house to where, with another apology, he’d sent word for her to wait for him.

  The hour he’d asked her to wait had become three, as he’d rummaged through Maria’s unfiled documents, with calls back and forth to Mark. He’d sent more apologies and the offer of anything his guest’s heart desired, including food and drink, spa treatments from his private masseuse and her choice of clothes from the vast wardrobes in the villa.

  Finally, he closed the door of the safe, clutching the bundle of papers that he’d been searching for. They were a mess but they showed Maria’s ownership of a company listed in Cayman. He connected by video phone to Mark and his lawyer and together they went through them word by word. It seemed that she’d bought a shadow company, but that it had ceased trading six months later.

  There was no sign of any money ever changing hands between her and his father. And there was no sign of any profits, which meant that neither his father nor Martin nor the Inland Revenue were due anything at all.

  Finally even the calm, unflappable Mark breathed out a sigh of relief. And that said something.

  ‘That was a close call. I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet, but at least we know there was stuff happening that you weren’t party to. This is good news.’

  Good news. He nodded as the knowledge sank in. His wife had deceived him in new and even more dangerous ways. It shouldn’t really have been a surprise, but it was still painful. And what else was he going to find out?

  ‘I take it you’ll be out of commission for the next few hours in some kind of post-apocalyptic celebration?’

  ‘For your information, I’m going straight into another meeting. I’ve got someone waiting to pitch a new concession for House.’

  ‘A pitch? On Sunday. After what you’ve just been through?’

  ‘It’s no big deal. I don’t think it’ll come to anything. It’s a favour to a friend—it’s bridalwear, bespoke—not something I see working for us. It’s not the right brand, but I might be able to give her some feedback that’ll help.’

  ‘Sounds like just the way to unwind after averting an unaffordable tax bill, a rush on your stock and a media storm. But hey, who am I to judge?’

  Nikos raised his eyebrow at Mark’s attempt at humour. He was emotionally wrung out, stressed out and jet-lagged. And now he had this to do. Mark was right. He wouldn’t be able to focus on a word she was saying. He had to just chill for a couple of hours.

  ‘Incidentally, I’ve doubled your security in the short term. Until all this blows over. I think it’s best to be on the safe side.’

  ‘Is there anyone here in Greece?’

  ‘Not since after the break-in. Your last-minute change of plans caug
ht us off guard but I can get a couple of guys there if you want.’

  ‘It’s OK, I’ll be heading back soon. Thanks,’ said Nikos, then clicked off the phone and pocketed it. The break-in six months earlier had taken him by surprise, but it was just some opportunistic petty criminal. They’d been disturbed before they could take anything.

  Still, he was glad Mark had the sense to step things up. He’d felt uneasy leaving Manhattan, but then, these days he felt uneasy everywhere. Leaving Maybury Hall he’d felt something wasn’t right, that strange car, parked too long, that just happened to stop off at Lower Linton when he did...?

  He was probably getting paranoid.

  He tripped down the steps to the pool, just as he caught sight of Jacquelyn, sitting under a parasol in the shade, her laptop in front of her, staring intently at the screen. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes intense, her lips moving, her hands gesticulating—she was practising her pitch to him.

  Oh, man. She was all geared up and he was gearing down.

  He took the last flight of steps, slowing his pace, trying to think of the best words to begin his own pitch to her. He knew his own body—he was buzzed up and he needed release. It was either sex or exercise. It wasn’t politely listening to a friend of a friend telling him about her plans to bring more fishtail wedding dresses to market.

  He strode past the drained hot tub, ignoring it, and right up to the pool house, just as she noticed him. She looked up, startled, touched her hand to her chest in an endearing way. In her simple blue sundress, with broad straps over sleek shoulders, she looked good. She looked great. That was all he could think.

  ‘I’m so sorry!’ she said. ‘I didn’t see you there. I would have been ready for you up at the house if I’d known.’

  ‘I’m the one who needs to apologise, dragging you all this way and then leaving you here to fend for yourself all afternoon. Have you been OK? Got everything you need?’

  ‘Yes. Totally,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a lovely afternoon sitting out here. It’s the best waiting room I’ve ever been in. It’s beautiful. You’re so lucky.’

  He looked around, nodding. The Aegean was particularly calm, particularly blue. Behind him sparrows were flying in and out of the bushes and hedges that screened the pool, just as they’d always done. The sun was beginning its late afternoon slide, the light that perfect hot, bright dazzle that made everything look at its best. And the pure, cool twenty metres of water right beside him looked as inviting as he’d ever seen it. It was pretty near as perfect as anywhere could be.

  Jacquelyn stood up and smoothed her dress, catching his eye. He forced his gaze to remain on her face.

  ‘So where do you want to do this?’ she said brightly. ‘Up in the house? It’s only me and the laptop. I can fall in with whatever suits.’

  He ran his hands through his hair, biting down on the adrenalin that was building in him. He didn’t want to go back in there. He didn’t want to sit down politely and listen to anything she had to say. He wanted to be out here, in the sunshine, living life, remembering Greece the way it used to be for him. He wanted to shake off the cobwebs of Maria’s death once and for all, and he couldn’t think of a more engaging woman to do it with.

  ‘To tell you the truth, the thing that would suit me most now is just to chill for a while. I’ve been on the go for hours and I need to unwind.’

  He glanced at the pool house and her eyes followed his, widening when she looked back at him.

  ‘How about we shelve the business talks for a bit? I don’t think that tagging on a pitch right now is going to be the best idea—we both need to be clear-headed. What do you say?’

  He winced as the words came out of his mouth. She was going to be more and more convinced that there was a crock of gold at the end of this rainbow when, really, it was much more likely to be a crock of something else.

  ‘Well, yes. Of course. I don’t want to get in the way. I’ll fall in with your plans. You were good enough to invite me here in the first place—I’m just happy to get the chance.’

  Why did that irritate him slightly? That she was glad only to be here for her five-minute pitch? He wanted her to want to be here because he was Nikos Karellis the man, not the CEO of House. He opened a bottle of water and splashed some into two glasses, handing her one.

  ‘You need to stop apologising for yourself. Would be my first piece of business advice. If what you’ve got to offer is worthwhile, people will be prepared to wait for it.’

  Her lips formed a surprised ‘oh’ and he was sure she was about to start with another apology but she clamped her mouth closed.

  ‘Thanks for the advice, then,’ she said, taking the glass and putting it straight down on the table.

  ‘You’re welcome. Always better to say thanks for your patience than to apologise for holding someone up. It’s assertive. Someone in your position needs to be very assertive.’

  ‘I’ve never had any complaints before,’ she said, and he noted as she drew herself up. He noted because the slight movement drew his eyes to the curves under her dress, the way it creased and hugged and flattered.

  ‘I’m sure you haven’t had many complaints at all,’ he said, and he meant it innocently enough, but in the pause that extended now between them, in the moment in which they each regarded the other, the unmistakeable heat of sexual tension began to bloom. He felt the physical rush and saw it reflected in the widening of her eyes, the slight parting of her lips.

  ‘If any,’ he finished, underlining the point, unnecessarily.

  ‘I meant,’ she said, clearing her throat, ‘I haven’t had any complaints about being assertive. Though that doesn’t seem to get me anywhere. In the business world.’

  He drained his glass and reached for more. In the quiet afternoon, the only sounds were the slosh of water in his glass, and the bursts of cicadas through the heavy heat. The sun beat down on his back, warmth spread and seemed to soothe his tense shoulders. The world was beginning to slow and right itself. Greece was seeping under his skin again.

  ‘Maybe you’ve been talking to the wrong people. I guess some people, some men, are threatened by an assertive woman.’

  ‘Well, I can’t seem to be any other way,’ she said, walking to the edge of the terrace. She placed her hands lightly on the top of the barrier and stared out to sea. Sunlight glinted on her golden hair and bathed the edges of her shoulders; the skirt of her dress floated up in the warm summer’s breeze.

  ‘Be yourself,’ he said. ‘It’s working well from where I’m standing.’

  She cast a glance back over her shoulder.

  ‘With all due respect, it’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to ask anyone to finance your company. You’ve got everything you could ever need.’

  Everything he could ever need? People thought that having the cars and houses and planes was everything. Easy mistake to make but they were so wrong. He wanted peace. He wanted trust. He wanted to be able to wake up in the morning to birdsong; he wanted to roll over in his bed and hold the warm body of the woman he loved, not slide into cold space, wondering where she was and who she was with, and what she’d done.

  But he doubted he would ever find it, if it even existed.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and he looked up from his self-pity. ‘I overstepped the mark there. I had no right to say that. It was unprofessional. I just want you to know that I’m really grateful for this chance—I don’t want to do anything to ruin it.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jacquelyn. Give yourself a break. Maybe you should try being a bit less professional for a while. All I’m saying is that I’d be grateful for your company for the next few hours. As one human being to another, the real Nikos and the real Jacquelyn.’

  She was on the back foot. He could see tension in her eyes and the nervous way she clasped her hands. She walked over to where her laptop sat and moved it out of the wedge o
f sunlight that had crept onto the table. Then she closed the lid halfway.

  ‘Well, the thought of spending time here... Who wouldn’t want to do that? I mean, it’s gorgeous, and I haven’t had a holiday in four years, but...’

  ‘There’s a “but”?’

  ‘But can I get your word that the pitch will definitely go ahead?’ she said, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

  ‘The pitch will definitely go ahead,’ he repeated, nodding. ‘Come hell or high water, you’ll get your chance to talk about your business. I’m only talking a walk, a swim, then an early dinner. You could stay here tonight—there’s plenty of space,’ he said quickly, when he saw a look of surprise and shock sweep over her face. ‘Get an early night and then you’ll be fresh for the morning. Pitch at nine and I’ll have the jet ready for ten-thirty. I’m heading back to New York via London tomorrow too. I think that would work—yeah?’

  ‘You mean stay all night? I don’t think so. I wasn’t really counting on that. I’m not really prepared.’

  ‘I wasn’t counting on it either,’ he said, with an honesty that he didn’t expect. ‘This is the first time I’ve been back here in years. I thought I’d hate it, I thought I’d want to get away the minute I...found what I was looking for in the vault, but I don’t. I really want to hang out, relax.’

  He looked round again at the terrace, the pool, the bushes popping with colour and even the empty hot tub that shimmered in the baking heat. The olive groves behind him on the hillside, the goats roaming free. This was home, and he’d had no idea how much he’d missed it.

  ‘Come on. If you won’t do it for me, do it for the staff who’re slaving in that kitchen preparing dinner for us tonight. You can’t let them down.’

  ‘That’s not fair. That’s blackmail,’ she said, but a smile was tugging at her lips.

  ‘I never said it was fair. But if you want that on your conscience...’

  ‘OK. I’ll stay. As long as I can get an early night in the guest bedroom...’