Chapter Twenty-Seven

“WITH YOUR KNOWLEDGE OF HOMER, you must have been to Greece?” Nicholas’s voice broke into Acacia’s musings.

“Never.” She looked across the aisle of the private plane to where her new friend and employer sat. His scar was visible, so she was careful to make eye contact.

Nicholas hadn’t removed his prosthetic until after they’d boarded the plane. Acacia wondered if he always hid his scar around his parents. Surely they knew about it.

Madame and Monsieur Cassirer had breakfasted with them before they left for the airport. Apparently, the Cassirers had decided to stay in Cologny awhile longer.

During the previous afternoon, Madame had volunteered her design services to Acacia for her apartment, and she had gratefully accepted. She drew up an impressive plan and suggested fabrics and paint, to Acacia’s delight.

Acacia hadn’t expected to be treated with such kindness and generosity by Nicholas’s parents. Their openness to her almost made her ashamed of how she’d mistrusted Nicholas.

But trust was earned. Acacia remained self-protective, but she’d begun to trust him a little. He’d sent Rick to watch over her when the BRB’s protection had been compromised. He’d warned her to remove her valuables from her apartment, which enabled her to leave Claude with Kate. He’d whisked her safely to his parents’ compound and offered her a job.

She’d done nothing to earn his favor, which made her begin to believe he truly was motivated by a sense of responsibility for her because of what had happened at the Victoire.

Nicholas’s long legs were stretched out in front of him, and he sipped a vodka and tonic. He was the picture of ease, despite the fact that he wore one of his many restrictive black suits.

“We’re approaching Santorini. Prepare for landing.” The pilot reminded them to fasten their seatbelts, and the plane began its descent.

Nicholas leaned across the aisle. “You should be able to see the island.”

Acacia looked out her window, over the vast expanse of blue sea. In the distance, she could see a crescent-shaped island, dotted with white buildings.

The plane adjusted its speed and continued its descent.

Acacia closed her laptop and placed it next to her new Chanel handbag—a handbag she’d balked at buying. Juliet, however, had insisted she needed something of the sort for her travels.

Acacia had conceded the point, once again keenly aware of how haphazard her packing had been the day she fled Paris. She did not have sufficient, appropriate clothing for professional engagements, and since she was representing Nicholas…

But there was another, far more secretive reason she’d agreed to buy the designer handbag. It was worth several thousand Euros, which made it a ready source of cash should she have need of it. Acacia was never without an exit strategy. Whether she trusted Nicholas or not was irrelevant to the other dangers lurking in the shadows.

She rubbed her eyes.

She’d sent a short but polite email of resignation to the human resources office at Hotel Victoire, informing them she’d accepted another position. She offered two weeks’ notice, but the office replied that her resignation would be effective immediately. They were paying her for the next two weeks, though her presence was no longer required.

The speed with which they’d accepted her resignation had hurt. But Acacia hadn’t risen through the ranks by nursing hurt feelings.

Something brushed against her forearm. “Remind me of the agenda?”

She turned to Nicholas. “Customs agents will meet us on arrival. A car will be waiting on the tarmac to transfer us to the villa. You’ll have time to relax before your dinner meeting with Constantine Zervas.”

“Rick?” Nicholas turned to view the man behind him and switched to English. “Do we need to go over the itinerary?”

“Negative.” The bodyguard’s response was more of a grunt.

Acacia took note of Rick’s blank expression, which was mirrored by Kurt, who sat beside him.

Rick was now her protector, but she viewed him with skepticism. He’d captured one of her assailants, interrogated him, and then let him go on Nicholas’s orders. The thought unsettled her.

Acacia tightened her seatbelt as the plane continued its descent. She heard the whir of the landing gear. A few minutes later, they landed on the small runway and taxied toward a silver Range Rover.

Acacia wrapped a silk scarf around her head and pushed the ends over her shoulders.

A chuckle sounded at her left.

She turned and saw Nicholas’s eyes on her, his mouth wide with amusement. “You don’t have to cover your head in Greece, except for inside the churches.”

“I know. My research indicates that Santorini can be windy, especially up on the cliffs.”

“You’ve made good use of your laptop during our flight.”

“I take my work seriously.”

Nicholas angled his head, and his eyes met hers. “I know.”

He appraised her before he met her eyes again. “The scarf is very attractive. But I doubt any amount of wind could diminish your beauty.”

Acacia’s eyes widened. Before she could fumble a response, the plane came to a sudden halt.

Nicholas glanced over her shoulder, out the window. “As a reminder, Constantine is a business associate and not a friend. He knows me as Pierre Breckman.”

Acacia nodded. They’d gone over the particulars just after takeoff. Nicholas had handed her a newly minted Swiss passport in the name of Andarta Silva.

“Globalization,” he’d said with a wink. “You’re part of a new wave of Brazilian immigration to Switzerland.”

She hoped she’d remember her new name.

Acacia’s skin grew warm as she repeated Nicholas’s compliment in her head. She was darker than the fair, Nordic women he seemed to prefer.

Acacia set such inappropriate thoughts aside. Nicholas was her friend and her employer.

She switched on her cell phone and scrolled through the texts she’d sent and received from Kate. As promised, the contractor and his team had started work on her apartment. Madame Cassirer had been in touch with a designer in Paris, who was going to implement the scheme she and Acacia had agreed upon.

Kate had sent updates, including the following:

Holy shit. I didn’t realize
how much damage there was.

I am so sorry.

Claude says MEOW,
which I think means he misses you.

Luc is looking for you.

“Andarta?” Nicholas called. Rick stood next to the now-open door, waiting.

She put her phone in her purse and gathered her things.

Rick exited the plane first and scanned the area before beckoning to Acacia. She descended the steps with Nicholas close behind.

The Greek customs agents seemed to remember him. They shook hands before checking his passport. They barely glanced at Acacia’s.

Soon they were comfortably seated in the Range Rover, driving away from the airport and up the windy roads that led to the villa.

Nicholas was pointing out some of the places of interest when Acacia’s cell phone rang. She removed the offending item from her handbag. A glance at the screen confirmed it was Luc. She quickly sent the call to voicemail, conscious of Nicholas’s eyes on her.

“Is there a problem?” His voice rumbled.

“Not at all.” Acacia slipped the phone back into her purse.

He gazed at her for a long moment before he turned his attention to the landscape.

The roads of Santorini were narrow and winding, and they challenged the width of the Range Rover as it ascended the cliff. Acacia gripped the armrest several times as cars whizzed past them, far too close for her comfort.

Finally, the car crested the cliff and approached a closed gate. Armed guards stood sentry at the entrance and waved them through.

“The villa is built into the side of the cliff, overlooking the sea. Only part of it is visible.” Nicholas jerked his chin in the direction of the white, single-story building in front of them.

The driver parked and efficiently opened Nicholas’s door, while Rick helped Acacia alight.

She recognized Wen as he exited the villa. Again, the young man greeted her warmly and scanned her for surveillance devices. Then he turned his attention to Nicholas, the bodyguards, and the driver. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to find anything alarming.

As they entered the villa, a trio of household staff greeted them. An older woman stepped forward to pass Nicholas a note, which he read quickly.

“I need to make a phone call.” He gave Acacia a small smile. “Make yourself comfortable; take a swim. I’ll come find you later.”

Acacia nodded and followed the young man who had her luggage to the back of the villa.

The villa had white-washed walls and windows that looked out over the cliffs and down to the sea. They took a steel staircase to the lower level and walked past an infinity pool and Jacuzzi to Acacia’s room.

The young man placed Acacia’s luggage in her closet and then lifted the house phone. He told her she should press zero if she needed anything. He pointed to a piece of paper that had the wireless password written on it.

The room reminded her of a cave. It had been hewn out of the rock and covered with plaster that had been painted white. A pale gray tile floor lay beneath her feet. There was a desk and chair, a walk-in closet, an expansive bed covered with mosquito netting, and an ensuite bathroom.

She removed her scarf and placed it next to her laptop on the desk. She retrieved her purse and walked outside, determined to familiarize herself with the surroundings.

A clear, Plexiglas barrier separated the pool deck from the precipitous drop below. She leaned over the edge and looked to see any points of egress, but there were none. No one could climb up the cliffs except an experienced, well-equipped mountain climber. Similarly, even if one wanted to climb down from the villa, there was nowhere to go but into the sea.

Three other doorways flanked the pool area, all of which she assumed led to bedrooms. Probably Nicholas’s room is the largest one, and Rick and Kurt are staying in the others.

She climbed back up the staircase to the upper level and wandered through the living room, dining room, and kitchen. The dining room opened out to a spacious upper deck, shaded from the sun by a huge canvas canopy. The deck had a dining table that was already set for a meal.

Down the hall from the kitchen she found a home theater, library, laundry room, and a large bathroom with an adjoining steam room.

She noted that several of the windows on the upper level could be used for escape, but one would still have to climb the high iron fence that surrounded the property. She stood in the front doorway and looked at the gate, observing the security guards. She’d have to check the area after nightfall to see if it was illuminated.

Still carrying her Chanel handbag, she returned to her room. She had her Brazilian passport, along with the Swiss passport Nicholas had given her, and she had one thousand Euros she’d withdrawn from her savings account during her shopping spree in Geneva, along with a new burner cell phone she’d already programmed with all her contacts.

Leaving the island undetected in case of an emergency would not be easy. But at least she had the makings of an escape. So long as she had a plan, she could relax.

She opened all the windows in her room and bathroom, and welcomed the island breezes. She sat on the bed and pulled out her old phone.

Luc’s voicemail was brief and to the point.

“Caci, where are you? Why are you ignoring my messages? Call me.”

Acacia reclined on the bed and looked up at the white ceiling. She didn’t want to speak to Luc, and she certainly didn’t want to tell him where she was and with whom. But if she didn’t reply, she was confident he’d dig harder—precisely what she didn’t want him to do, for his safety as well as hers. It was possible whoever had pulled the BRB’s surveillance of her could be watching Luc as well.

She sighed and tapped out a text.

I’m fine.
Things at the hotel were brutal,
so I quit. Taking a few days
to visit friends. Back soon.

A gentle wind wafted in from the open door and caressed her face. She hoped the text would be enough.

An hour later, Acacia was relaxing in the Jacuzzi.

She’d spent thirty minutes swimming laps in the pool, pushing herself to the limit. Then she’d put on a pair of sunglasses, reapplied sunscreen, and climbed into the heated whirlpool.

The Jacuzzi was situated near the Plexiglas barrier and offered a view of the cliffs as they spread out on either side, and overlooked the sea. She wondered what it would be like to watch the sun slowly sink below the horizon. She imagined it would be breathtaking.

“There you are.” Nicholas approached from behind. He’d forsaken his black suit and was dressed in a white linen shirt and khaki pants. His feet were bare, his hair slightly mussed, and he wore aviator sunglasses.

“I brought you a drink.” He handed her a glass of white wine. “It’s from a local vineyard.”

They clinked glasses.

“You aren’t wearing black.” Mentally, she observed that his more casual clothes suited him immensely.

“It’s too hot for black, and I find myself in a much better mood.” He pointed to a deck chair. “May I join you?”

“Of course.”

He dropped into it heavily and almost spilled his drink.

“Thank you.” She sipped the wine and found it refreshing.

“You’re welcome. Sorry I was so long. Constantine has invited us to dinner tonight at his villa in Oia. That’s the favored location on the island to watch the sun set.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

He frowned. “Of course.”

Acacia scratched her neck. “Concierges don’t usually attend dinner meetings.”

“You’re more than a concierge, and you know it.” Nicholas sipped his drink. “How’s everything in Paris?”

“Fine.” She deflected any follow up questions by pointing to the deck chair, which Nicholas had placed with its back to the sea. “You’re facing the wrong way.”

“I like where I am.”

She shook her head. “You’re full of surprises. I still can’t believe you protected my cat.”

“You’re full of surprises as well.” Nicholas lowered his voice. “Because we’re dining out, I’ve sent the household staff home. The guards at the gate and the driver are local, but in my employ. Still, we should maintain our personas while we’re here.”

“Understood.” Acacia moved closer to him, and Nicholas leaned in. “I thought Silke drew too much attention to this persona.”

A wave of anger rippled across Nicholas’s face. “I need Constantine’s help. This was the only way I could ask for it.”

He straightened and took a large drink. “The household staff will return tomorrow to prepare breakfast. My advance team swept the villa for surveillance devices and removed them before our arrival. They’ve rerouted the internet through our secure server, which means your email is safe.”

“They found surveillance devices?”

“Remarkably, there were only four, and none of them were in your room.”

Acacia placed her wine glass on the edge of the Jacuzzi. “Who do you think is behind it?”

“Constantine.”

“Your contact has you under surveillance?”

“It’s a game we play. He bugs me; I bug him. My team removed the bugs but didn’t destroy them. They’re feeding disinformation to Constantine, which is probably why he extended the dinner invitation to you.”

“I don’t follow.”

“For the purposes of this trip, you aren’t staff. You’re my lover.”

Acacia went very still. “That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

“No, but I’m asking you to play the role while we’re in public.” Nicholas took off his sunglasses. “Any information Constantine acquires can be sold for a price. If interested parties think you’re my lover, and we go our separate ways, no one will follow you. If they think you’re staff, they may approach you.”

Acacia removed her sunglasses so she could see him more clearly. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No one from my world has approached Silke since she took off with that American.” Nicholas countered, his tone contemptuous. “Constantine’s mistress is hosting tonight’s dinner. She’s Jordanian. Perhaps the two of you will hit it off.”

Acacia froze. “Why do you think we’d hit it off?”

“You both speak Arabic. Constantine doesn’t.”

It took a moment for the tension in Acacia’s shoulders to abate. She moved across the Jacuzzi and climbed out.

She wore a tangerine bikini that she knew looked very good against her tan skin. But she ignored her employer’s perusal.

While she dried herself with a towel, he approached with a white terry robe. “Let me help.”

She allowed him to assist her and then faced him. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am.” His dark eyes blazed.

“You’re putting me in an extremely awkward situation, with very little warning. That’s not how friends treat one another.”

Nicholas rubbed at his chin. “You aren’t being asked to do anything illegal or scandalous. I’m just asking you to pretend for one evening. It will alleviate Constantine’s suspicions.”

“Why should he be suspicious of me?”

“You’re new to his circle. You’re intelligent and beautiful, with a talent for languages. A trained eye can discern that you practice martial arts. Constantine will assume you’re Interpol.”

Acacia scoffed. “You have an incredible imagination.”

“I have an incredible ability for recruiting talent. My associates know this. No matter what we say, Constantine is already investigating you. It’s possible he’ll assume you’re Interpol regardless. We need to misdirect him.”

Acacia swore in Portuguese. “He’s already investigating me?”

“Undoubtedly. But he won’t find anything, of course.”

Her hand went to her hair. “Did you plan this?”

“My meeting with Constantine was scheduled long before I met you.”

“Really? What about his mistress?”

Nicholas shifted his weight. “What do you mean?”

“Constantine’s mistress speaks Arabic. Did you recruit me so I could speak to her?”

“No,” he replied smoothly. “Your departure from Paris was a last-minute development designed to keep you safe.”

Acacia took a step forward, her eyes on his. “I’m not trained in espionage.”

“That’s not exactly true.”

“Are you mad?”

“What is the motto of Les Clefs d’Or? Service through friendship. For one evening, I’m asking you to befriend another young woman who speaks a common language. That’s all.”

Acacia’s hazel eyes flashed. “I’m not interested in becoming your mistress.”

“Duly noted,” Nicholas responded drily. “Allow me to emphasize that I wasn’t extending an invitation.”

“Duly noted,” she snapped.

He grinned.

She placed her hand on her hip. “Why are you smiling?”

“You aren’t afraid to tangle. I admire that.”

“I’m Brazilian. We’re all like this.”

Nicholas brushed the edge of his thumb across his lower lip. “Brazil must be an incredible country.”

She ignored the compliment and tied the belt of her robe more tightly. “When are we leaving?”

“An hour and a half. Is that enough time?”

“It’s fine. Will dinner be formal?”

“No. I’ll wear dress pants and a shirt, but no jacket or tie. A summer dress would be appropriate.”

“All right. We agreed Santorini was a trial period. As your friend, I have to caution you that if you put me in a situation like this again, I’ll be forced to resign.” She tried to pass him but he caught her arm.

She looked up at a conflicted face. Nicholas’s lips were pressed together as if he were angry. His eyes communicated something else entirely.

“I admit when I learned you spoke Arabic I hoped you’d be able to discover more about Constantine’s mistress.” He brought his face closer to hers. “I didn’t realize…”

He released her arm and placed his hands at his sides. “My apologies. I’m grateful for your assistance, as always.”

She stepped quickly to her room and closed the door behind her.