Chapter Twenty-Nine

THIS SHALL NOT STAND.

It was a silly thing, really. On occasion a word or phrase would take residence in her mind, like the refrain of an annoying song.

What had happened with Nicholas the night before could not stand, which was why Acacia was typing up her resignation letter.

The door and windows to her cave-like rooms were open, and the bright sunshine poured in. An hour earlier, one of the household staff had brought a breakfast tray. It sat on its stand by the door, nearly empty. It had been a feast: coffee, fresh yogurt with honey, fruit, and bread and cheese. She’d awoken ravenous and slaked her hunger next to the pool.

She’d seen Rick and Kurt that morning, but Nicholas’s bedroom door remained closed. She surmised he was still asleep.

She re-read her resignation letter and attached it to an email she’d drafted to Madame Bishop, blind-copying Nicholas. She didn’t press send. Not yet.

She was attracted to Nicholas; there was no reason to deny it. He was handsome, intelligent, and charming, but much more. His devotion to his sister and her memory revealed a nobility of soul that Acacia admired. She also liked his parents and appreciated their kind hospitality.

She’d wanted Nicholas to kiss her and was sorely disappointed when he’d opted for her cheek instead. But he was her employer. It was highly unprofessional to become romantically involved with a supervisor, which was why she felt compelled to resign. She’d return to Paris and hopefully Madame Bishop could help her find another position as an executive assistant. Her hope of finding work as a concierge would have to be set aside, as least in the short term.

She wondered if her friendship with Nicholas would survive her resignation. Acacia felt a slight twinge, but it was a twinge she had no business feeling. Perhaps Nicholas was attracted to her. Perhaps not. He’d been emotional about the possibility of locating the stolen Degas. That emotion had likely translated into a momentary lapse in judgment. He would continue the quest for his family’s artwork, and she would go home.

She checked her bank account balances and was gratified to see that the Victoire was still paying her, as they’d promised. She transferred the regular monthly amount to her mother’s account in Brazil and tapped out a short email to confirm the transaction.

Her mother had to know she was avoiding her. Acacia hadn’t returned any of her calls and had let her mother think she was still in Paris. She’d explain everything later, when she had more privacy.

She was in the middle of a text to Kate when a knock sounded. She turned to find Nicholas standing outside her open door.

“Good morning.” His tone was warm, but his eyes were wary. “Did you rest well?”

She closed her laptop. “Yes, and you?”

“Tolerably, I suppose.” He brushed his hair from his forehead. He glanced at the empty tray. “You’ve already had breakfast.”

She nodded, still clutching her phone.

His attention focused on her phone for a moment. “Spend the day with me.”

She looked at him with surprise. “Sorry?”

He entered her room. “We don’t leave until tomorrow. Let’s go to the beach.”

“Why?”

He reared back and looked remarkably as if she’d wounded him.

She flushed. “I beg your pardon. That was rude. Nicholas, I’ve decided to resign my position with you.”

His expression tightened. “If that’s what you want…”

“I think it’s best.”

He paused. “Since you’re resigning, I’m free to enjoy your company.”

“As a friend?” Acacia asked in earnest.

“Is that what you want?” His tone was a challenge.

“It seems you can’t decide what you want me to be.”

He took a step closer. “Oh, I’ve decided.”

Acacia placed her phone on her desk and changed the subject. “Were you able to find out more from Marcel’s journal?”

“Not from the journal,” Nicholas hedged.

“From some other source?”

“I was able to discover the name of the man I was supposed to meet in Paris. My team tracked one of your attackers, and he led us to a Parisian art dealer, who does a hell of a lot of work in Russia. Unfortunately, I can’t confirm the dealer’s identity with Marcel. So I can’t be sure the dealer who sent men after you is the same person behind the attack on Marcel.”

“Marcel is still unconscious?”

“No. He’s dead.”

Acacia made a horrified noise.

Nicholas took a step closer. “I’m sorry to tell you this. He died yesterday of his injuries.”

She grabbed at her hair. “They killed him. They beat him so badly he died.”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Nicholas placed his hand on her shoulder. “Can I get you something? A glass of water?”

“No. Can you give the dealer’s name to the BRB?”

Nicholas squeezed her shoulder and moved away. “Given the fact that BRB surveillance failed you, I’m not in a hurry to trust them. I’ll pass the name to the Minister of the Interior, but I’m going to warn him that some of his BRB agents may be compromised.”

Acacia looked up at Nicholas. “The dealer shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this.”

“He won’t,” Nicholas replied firmly. “My team is already investigating the dealer’s Russian contacts. We’re going to cross-reference those names with Yasmin’s description and see if there’s any overlap. At the same time, I’m going to approach Constantine to see if he can put me in touch with someone who has done business with Yasmin’s ex-boyfriend.”

“I thought your meeting with Constantine didn’t go well.”

Nicholas frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“You looked unhappy last evening. You didn’t say anything in the car on the way back.”

“My mind was heavy with…other thoughts.”

She regarded him skeptically.

He cleared his throat. “In addition, the contact Constantine provided me with last night will not bring me closer to my goal.”

“Yasmin is afraid of the Russian, and Constantine hates him, presumably. Why not ask them for his name?”

“Remember that Constantine knows me as Pierre Breckman. I can’t tell him I’m looking for the Cassirer pieces. Also, names are rarely exchanged.”

“What if the Russian is the one you’re looking for?”

“Then I have to find another way of discovering his identity. Although Constantine may decide to put me in touch with someone who’s done business with Yasmin’s ex. That way, he remains at arm’s length.”

Nicholas gave Acacia a searching look. “We don’t have to go to the beach. There’s an art gallery I’d like to show you. Or we could visit the beach in the morning and the gallery after lunch.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Of course I enjoy your company, Nicholas. But what will your other staff think?”

His brow furrowed. “I’m not inviting you to do anything outrageous. Please don’t blame me for being attracted to you. Is that so great a fault?”

His voice and the look in his eyes were endearing. Acacia had to tamp down the thrill she felt at his admission. Perhaps he’d wanted to kiss her last night after all.

She wondered what had held him back. Perhaps he, like her, was conscious of the risk involved when one crossed a line.

“I need a few minutes to change and pack a bag.”

“Good. We’ll drive down to Red Beach, near Akrotiri. We’ll stay as long as you like and then have lunch and visit the art gallery.” Nicholas bowed. “Bring a change of clothes for later tonight. I’ll take you to dinner at a restaurant on the cliffs.”

As she watched his retreating back, Acacia tried to take stock of her feelings. They were entirely too conflicted.

“Why aren’t we taking the Range Rover?” Acacia stood next to a Jeep, open at the top as well as the sides.

Nicholas wore sunglasses, a linen shirt, and khaki pants.

“I thought it would be fun to take the Jeep.” He looked over his shoulder. “Rick and Kurt will follow us.”

She turned to follow his gaze. The silver vehicle was parked behind them, ready to move. She scowled.

“I’m sorry.” He eyed her reaction. “I can’t travel without them.”

“After what happened with Marcel, I don’t blame you. I feel awkward around them, though.”

“You’ll get used to them. I pay them a tremendous amount of money to protect what I value.” He gave her a look, heavy with meaning, before he helped her climb into the Jeep.

He crossed to the driver’s side and took the wheel, then piloted the vehicle through the gates and onto the road.

Acacia rummaged in her bag for a scarf and tied it over her hair.

The sound of Nicholas’s laughter rang out.

She gave him a sidelong glance.

“It should be a crime to look so fetching in a head scarf,” he said. He bumped her elbow with his as he moved the gearshift.

“You don’t have to worry about your hair.” She eyed him behind her sunglasses. “Mine would be a mess if I let the wind get at it.”

“You don’t like my hair?” He pushed it back from his forehead.

She grinned. “Vanity, thy name is Nicholas.”

“I’m far from vain.” His tone grew serious. “How could I be?”

Something about the way he said the words warranted a response. Acacia looked at his profile while she spoke. “As your friend, I would tell you not to worry about such things. The people that count, the good people, will remember your words and your actions, and how you treated them. Over time, that’s what forms our impression of beauty or handsomeness, not just the outward appearance.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes.” She turned in her seat so she could face him, even though he kept his eyes on the road. Mostly. “A lot of attractive and powerful guests came through the Victoire. I can’t tell you how quickly my evaluation of attractiveness plummeted when someone was rude or condescending.”

“What if the person apologized and was sorry for it?”

She turned to face the road again. It was extremely bumpy, and Acacia had to hold tight so she wouldn’t bounce around too much.

“If the apology was sincere, I’d be inclined to forget it, provided the bad behavior wasn’t repeated.”

Nicholas remained silent.

Acacia felt compelled to break the silence at least once more. “I’ve done things I regret. I hope they won’t be held against me forever. Keeping that in mind, I try to give a little latitude to others when they make mistakes.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Nicholas said.

He bumped her elbow once again, and Acacia couldn’t be sure if it was intentional or not.

She picked at the hem of her short, bright pink sundress. “I’m wary of people who put too much value in someone’s appearance. In a few years I’ll be forty. I know I won’t look like this forever. The people who are important to me value who I truly am, not just what I look like.”

Nicholas released the gearshift and took hold of her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I’m almost forty. It’s just a number.”

She changed the subject. “I wanted to thank you again for coming to my defense with the woman from Lyon.”

Nicholas let go of her hand so he could downshift. “She was hateful to you.”

“Not everyone likes Brazilians,” Acacia observed.

“Obviously some people lack good taste.”

She smiled. “It meant something that you defended me. The better I get to know you, the more it means.”

“I’m glad.” Nicholas gripped the wheel tightly. “You were very patient with that woman and also with me. You’re much better at controlling your anger than I am.”

“Years of practice.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His tone was sincere. “I’m sorry I contributed to that practice in Paris. I regret my behavior very much.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“Thank you.” His eyes met hers before he refocused on the road. “Why did you only buy a few things in Geneva? Juliet said you were frugal.”

Acacia pretended to be fascinated by the straps of her sundress. “I didn’t want to waste your money.”

“Anything bought for your pleasure or comfort could hardly be a waste. You look lovely in that pink dress, by the way. Bright colors suit you.”

“Thanks.” Acacia folded her hands in her lap.

“What do you think of Yasmin and Constantine?”

“I don’t judge.”

“I’m not asking for a moral evaluation.”

Acacia gazed down at her hands. “Yasmin is an engineer. But she has to stay with Constantine because she needs his protection.”

“He cares for her.”

“Maybe she cares for him. But she didn’t seem content or in love.” Acacia shrugged. “It’s none of my business, but that is not the kind of life I want.”

Nicholas remained silent for the rest of the drive.

They parked the Jeep at the top of the hill before hiking down to the beach, which was located in a small cove. High red cliffs stood over the dark volcanic sand that stretched toward the water.

Rick and Kurt accompanied them as they picked their way around the various sunbathers to an empty set of lounges next to a closed umbrella.

Nicholas turned and marked the location of the sun. “Is this all right?”

“It’s good.” Acacia placed her bag and beach towel on one of the lounges.

A man approached them and asked for payment to rent the chairs. Nicholas paid him, and he quickly put up the umbrella, adjusting it to provide only minimal shade.

“You want more shade?” The man addressed Nicholas in English.

Nicholas cast Acacia a questioning look.

“No, I prefer the sun.” She unrolled her towel and arranged it carefully.

The man continued to the next sunbathers, and Rick and Kurt took their places in deck chairs behind the lounges.

Out of the corner of her eye, Acacia watched as Nicholas pulled his linen shirt over his head, revealing his muscled chest and abdomen. His khaki pants followed, leaving him in black swim trunks that fit very well.

While he slathered sunscreen on his arms and chest, she removed her sundress and adjusted her tangerine bikini. While many women were topless, as was common in Greece, she kept her top on.

She glanced over at Nicholas and discovered he’d abandoned his sunscreen to stare at her.

She lowered her sunglasses. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all. I was wondering if you’d help me.” He waggled the sunscreen in his hand.

“Sit down.”

He sat with his back to her, and she stood behind him. She squirted the white lotion into her hand and smoothed it over his broad shoulders.

Under her touch, his muscles tensed and then relaxed. She couldn’t help but notice how fit he was.

“Your turn,” he said thickly when she’d returned the bottle to him.

He rubbed the sunscreen into her skin. His touch was light but focused as he spread the cool substance all over. When he touched her lower back, she shivered.

“I should have warmed it first. I’m sorry,” he apologized.

She felt his breath on her ear and the heat of his body so close to hers. “It’s all right.”

He smoothed over her shoulders, a last caress, before he sat back.

She thanked him and returned to her lounge where she lowered herself on her stomach.

A cell phone rang nearby. Nicholas muttered a curse and retrieved his phone from a beach tote he’d placed in the sand.

Acacia turned her head in his direction. “No rest for the weary?”

“I’m switching it off. They’ll have to do without me for a few hours.” He tossed the phone back into the bag. “You have my full attention.”

She laughed. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m taking a nap. You and your friends kept me out too late last night.”

“Today is your day.” He pulled out a Paris newspaper. “If you need anything, Andarta, anything at all, I’m here.”

She started at the unfamiliar name, but recovered herself and returned his smile.

Nicholas’s life was far from simple. She wondered how he could relax when there were so many dangers.

But Acacia couldn’t deny that the beach was peaceful. She soon forgot about the bodyguards as she dozed in the hot sun. The gentle hum of the people around her combined with the sound of the waves lapping against the sand. The rhythm was soothing.

What seemed like hours later, Nicholas touched her shoulder. “I’m worried you’re going to burn, ma chère. I think you should roll over.”

Slightly hazy from her nap, Acacia simply nodded. It took her a moment to right herself and sit up.

“I’m going into the water. Join me?” Nicholas extended his hand.

She set her sunglasses down and placed her hand in his. Nicholas’s hold was firm. He stroked her hand with his thumb as he navigated around the other sunbathers to the ocean.

When they reached the water, his grip on her tightened.

Acacia hesitated as the waves kissed her toes. The water seemed cool to her heated skin.

She looked over her shoulder and saw that the bodyguards had followed. As they approached, Acacia tugged Nicholas into the sea.

The water was at Acacia’s waist when Nicholas released her hand. He immersed himself and then emerged from the surf and wiped the water from his face. “Much better.”

Water droplets clung to his shoulders and chest and glistened in the sun like tiny jewels. Lower down, the droplets winked at her from a defined abdomen and the beginning of a trail of hair that disappeared below his waistband.

She looked away and surveyed the crowded beach and the looming bodyguards, who’d dipped their toes into the surf.

There were many beautiful women, almost all of them topless, who sunned themselves on lounge chairs and towels. A few had wandered into the water and looked like mermaids emerging from the foam.

Nicholas stood with his back to the mermaids, his eyes fixed on her. The realization sent a tingle down her spine.

She knew she was attractive. Her height stretched out her curves, but her breasts and her backside were generous. Her legs were long, and she had a narrow waist. Nicholas seemed to appreciate her bikini.

An arc of water sailed over her. She shrieked as the cold hit her skin.

Nicholas laughed. The bastard had splashed her.

Without hesitation, she used both hands to splash him back.

Nicholas held his arms up to block the spray, but was unsuccessful. With a roar, he charged, and lifted and spun her around.

Disoriented, she clutched at his shoulders and giggled.

“You are so beautiful.” He stopped turning. They were at eye level, their faces very close. “I’ve seen you in a concierge uniform, a bikini, a formal gown, and jeans. No matter what you’re wearing, you always take my breath away.”

Nicholas’s warm body pressed against hers, chest against chest. His arms wrapped around her. She felt safe, perhaps for the first time in years.

Nicholas’s gaze moved to her mouth.

He inhaled slowly, as if he were exerting himself, and placed her on her feet. He released her upper arms. “I’ve laughed more the past few days than I’ve laughed in a very long time.”

“I’m glad.”

He lifted his dripping hand and pushed her hair back from her face. “I may be Sisyphus, but you are Euphrosyne, the goddess of laughter. She’s one of the three Graces featured in Botticelli’s Primavera.”

Embarrassed, Acacia looked toward shore.

Nicholas took her hand in his. “We’d better return before Rick and Kurt show us what they look like in swimsuits. Do you think they wear Speedos?”

Acacia burst out laughing.

“So you grew up in Brazil?” Nicholas poured Acacia another glass of red wine.

They sat in a taverna built into the cliff, overlooking the sea. Their table stood next to the railing and afforded them an exceptional view. But again, Nicholas’s attention was entirely fixed on her.

They’d changed for dinner. Acacia wore a knee-length, pale purple dress with high-heeled bronze sandals. Nicholas wore a navy linen jacket over a white Oxford shirt and dark-washed jeans.

“We lived in Recife. I tried to spend as much time as possible at the beach when I wasn’t studying.” Acacia sipped her wine.

“I bet you drove all the young men crazy.”

She shook her head. “As I told you, my mother was strict.”

“But not your father?”

Acacia placed her glass on the table to steady herself. “He was strict too. How about your parents? Were they strict when you were young?”

“Not really. You’ve met them, so you know they prize manners and deportment. Apart from that, we had a lot of freedom. Perhaps too much freedom.”

“Did you go to boarding school?”

Nicholas gripped the stem of his wine glass. “No. I went to school in Geneva and lived at home until I went to university.”

“What did you study?”

“Business.”

“That’s a surprise,” Acacia teased. “I thought you were an expert in Lyonnais history and French existentialism. Did you attend the University of Zurich?”

“No, the London School of Economics.”

Acacia couldn’t hide how impressed she was. “Did you always want to go into business?”

“My parents expected us to be involved in the family business. Riva chose to curate the gallery. I decided to work for one of my father’s companies in London. I’ve always been interested in history, but when I was young I wanted to be a tennis player.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Do you play?”

“A little.” She gave him a half-smile. “I wouldn’t be a very good opponent.”

“I doubt that.” He tasted his wine. “Did you always want to be a concierge?”

“No, I wanted to be a curator and oversee an art gallery.”

Nicholas’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you?”

“I had a part-time job working at a hotel, and I kept being offered more work. I had difficulty finding employment in the art world. Finally, I gave up and took a few classes in hospitality.”

Nicholas looked stricken. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I?”

“I can make an introduction. I’m friendly with the director of the Louvre, for God’s sake.”

She bristled. “I don’t want a job at the Louvre because I know someone who’s friends with the director.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to earn it.”

Nicholas turned his head and looked out toward where the sun was setting.

I’ve offended his pride. She waited for him to turn to her once again.

The left side of his face was visible, and she studied it, noting that she’d become used to his scar. She’d been quietly upset when Yasmin brought it up, intimating that it was repulsive. It wasn’t. It was just part of Nicholas, the way the scar near her temple was part of her. Over time, she doubted she’d notice it.

She reached out across the table to touch his fingers. He surprised her by twining them with hers.

He gave her a repentant look. “Can I interest you in more wine?”

“No.” She squeezed his fingers. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s kind of you to offer, but I don’t want anything from you.”

“Perhaps that’s why I want to give you everything.”

Acacia rearranged the napkin in her lap, still holding Nicholas’s hand across the table.

He waited until she lifted her head. “You are the only one who never wanted anything from me.”

A long look passed between them, then Nicholas turned to look toward the sunset.