Dara Girard - Secret Paradise

Monica hung up the phone and stared at her husband, who was giving their son, Markos, named after the doctor who’d helped save Lucian’s life, a piggyback ride, while their daughter, Starla, busied herself with her coloring book.

“Well, that was fast,” J.D. said, surprised.

“She said she would do it.”

“Did you tell her about—”

Monica shook her head and clasped her hands. “She wouldn’t let me explain anything. She agreed before I even asked the question.”

“So she doesn’t know about—”

Monica shook her head again. “J.D., she doesn’t care, and when Nikki wants something, nothing else matters. She’s ready to do this.”

“She’s going to be in for a big surprise.”

“Nikki can handle Lucian. I hope he can handle her.”

J.D. grinned. “Lucian can handle anything.”

“Did we just mix dynamite with gunpowder?”

J.D.’s grin grew. “All we can do is sit back and watch the fireworks.”

Chapter 3

Yes, this was paradise. Nikki stood on the balcony, a slight breeze blowing the white cotton skirt she wore. It blended with the top she’d gotten from a local woman on the mainland. She’d stopped there for the day and roamed the market to get a feel of the culture. She saw some of the women wearing white skirts and patterned tops and asked one of them where she could purchase a similar outfit. The old lady in the store looked at Nikki, confused, so speaking in broken Greek and with a flash of money, she was able to make her request understood. The woman took the money, while still shaking her head, but left and came back with the two items Nikki wanted.

Nikki didn’t care that the woman thought she was odd. She liked the loose-fitting style and wanted to feel a part of the land and culture and immerse herself in it. That meant shedding her typical New York clothes for bright colors and soft cotton fabrics that let her skin breathe. She turned her face to the warmth of the sun, which sat high in the cloudless blue sky. She loved the consistent warm weather, as well as the silence around her. She could actually hear her heart beating. There were no car fumes, flashing traffic lights or pounding footsteps on concrete.

The journey had been long, but she’d been treated like a queen—from her ride in Kontos’s private jet to the luxury hotel on the mainland, where she stayed for a night until arrangements for transportation to the island could be made. There were only two ways to reach it: by boat or by helicopter. She’d first spotted the mansion as she sailed high over the water. As they approached the island, it came into view, the greenery seeming to make way for the soaring cliffs and the majestic structure, which appeared like a magical castle created out of the rock by a bolt of lightning from the gods. It was both wild and tamed, elegant and frightening. Nikki instantly fell in love.

She had never been in love before but could imagine these were the symptoms—racing heartbeat, breathlessness, a feeling as if she could float on a cloud. Yes, she was in love and she never wanted to come down. She stared at the magnificent structure with lust. There were so many things she could do. A feeling of rightness settled over her.

A driver met her once the helicopter had landed, and drove her to the mansion, which was even more amazing when seen from the ground, with its vine-laden steel balcony railings and sconces. This was where she was meant to be. When she was a little girl, she’d seen a postcard of a castle in Spain and imagined decorating every room. This was that dream coming true. Nikki rested her arms on the balcony railing and looked out at the landscape, spotting other villas along the cliffs and some down near the water. The wind carried the scent of the sea, which mingled with the aroma of fresh flowers. The island was a study in tranquility, but she couldn’t say the same for the house. Once she’d stepped inside, she felt an emptiness. Despite the elaborately decorated hallways, the rooms she was hustled past were bare and sat neglected, with the eeriness of an empty tomb. Although the house had been rebuilt, there seemed to be a dark energy of melancholy that still lingered.

However, someone had taken care to make sure that her room was comfortable, with its expansive poster bed covered with expensive bedsheets and silk pillows, but that same care and attention hadn’t gone into the rest of the house. She hadn’t met the owner yet or Callia, but Nikki wasn’t concerned. She knew there was plenty of time for that. She could just roam about a bit and get ideas.

Nikki had started to turn from the balcony when she glanced down and saw a man running, then another, followed by a third. Their movement and expressions told her that something was wrong. She went to the hallway and saw one of the household staff frantically grabbing a blanket.

“What’s wrong?” she asked her.

“I don’t know. I just have to get these,” the woman said. Then her small, wiry figure hurried down the stairs and out the door.

Nikki followed. She wasn’t as nimble as the woman as they made their way through the dense brush. Suddenly, the woman stopped and Nikki saw a crowd of people looking down into what appeared to be a tunnel. She glanced up and saw a man standing a few feet away. His back was turned to the excitement. Aside from his apparent disinterest, he was a hard figure to miss, dressed in light khaki trousers and an orange shirt, his hand gripping a wooden cane. But he leaned on it as if he didn’t really need it. He wasn’t what she’d expected. For a man who shied away from cameras, he looked like he would relish the attention.

Nikki walked over to him and then noticed the young woman by his side. She fit Monica’s description of Callia. An older woman stood beside her and cast Nikki a curious glance but remained quiet.

“Mr. Kontos?” Nikki said, prepared to introduce herself.

He turned around.

Nikki blinked. He was beautiful. Exquisite. An Adonis dipped in honey. Every line of his face was perfection.

She held out her hand. “I’m Nikki Dupree.”

He gave her hand a firm handshake and flashed a beautiful smile. “We were wondering when you’d get here. Sorry we didn’t meet you at the house, but there’s been an incident with one of the caves.”

“Caves?” Nikki said with a frown. “It looks like a tunnel to me.”

“This island is full of underground caves and tunnels, so be careful. Don’t go and explore them, or you could end up dropping six feet down and could find yourself being swept out into the sea.”

Nikki turned back to the crowd. “Is that what this is about? Someone fell in?”

“Yes,” Callia said.

Kontos rolled his eyes. “Not someone. Something. Pauline. That’s Callia’s kitten.”

“She threw her in,” Callia said.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Kontos said in an indulgent tone.

Callia scowled. “She hated cats.”

“And she’s not here. Don’t make things up.”

“I’m not making it up.”

“Who are you talking about?” Nikki asked.

“The ghost,” Callia replied.

Kontos waved his hand. “Ignore her.”

“But I saw—”

“Quiet.”

Callia shifted from one foot to the other. “Please let me go close and see—”

“No,” the woman beside her said. “You’re to stay right here.”

“But—”

“Listen to Kay,” Kontos said.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Callia grumbled.

Nikki looked at the other woman, who was heavyset, with a nervous energy. Her eyes shifted back and forth, as if they didn’t know where to settle. Callia was going on fifteen now. That seemed old enough for her to look after herself. Why would she have a babysitter?

Nikki was about to ask why Callia thought someone had thrown her cat in when the young woman pointed with excitement.