Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

Ryden stretched and caressed Harper’s abdomen. “Morning.”

“Hey.” Harper kissed her. “Big day today.”

“Oh, yeah. That.” Ryden’s blissful expression faded, replaced by sadness. “One more day together before I leave.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Harper kissed her again. “Today’s the day I get Angelo.”

“That’s great.” Ryden sat up. “You decided to get a new dog.”

“Almost right.” Harper kissed Ryden’s shoulder. “We’re going together. If you want to,” she added shyly.

“But you said you go alone. You want the dog to bond with you, as its only master and friend.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to stay with me and I want Angelo to be ours.” Harper sat up when she saw Ryden tear up.

“But I have to go back.”

“No, you don’t.”

“What?” Ryden asked with a shocked expression.

“I’ll talk to Pierce. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Ryden tossed the sheets aside and threw herself into Harper’s arms. “Are you sure?” She had never looked happier.

“As I watched you sleep, I got a glimpse of my alternate future.”

“And?”

“I don’t want to live with remorse.” Harper kissed Ryden soundly on the lips.

Epilogue

Halkidiki, Greece

Fourteen months later

The sleek, 440-foot-long Fincantiere superyacht was a study in luxurious excesses, with seven decks, two helicopter landing pads—one with a hangar—a huge indoor seawater swimming pool, and storage for a large submarine. Noted naval architect Espen Oeino had designed the Pegasus to comply with the maximum safety international regulations, while still providing its billionaire owner with a breathtaking profile. The largest yacht ever built in Italy, it currently ranked ninth in the world, but its state-of-the-art technological advancements and sophisticated splendor set it apart from even the bigger mega yachts.

The internal space of the superyacht measured more than forty-eight thousand square feet, twenty-nine thousand of which was devoted to ultra-luxury designed by the renowned Pascale Reymond from Reymond Langton Design. Twelve elite cabins could accommodate twenty-four guests in extreme comfort, while additional living space below housed the ship’s fifty-two-person crew.

TQ’s host, Greek shipping magnate Konstantinos “Kostas” Lykourgos, had given her a richly appointed stateroom more impressive than any hotel she’d ever stayed in, but she rarely spent any time there. The rich blue waters of the Aegean, the perfect weather, and the panoramic views all beckoned her topside. This particular morning, Kostas had promised her a spectacle surpassing any they’d seen thus far, so she dressed in a flowing printed kaftan and broad sun hat and went to breakfast with a rare sense of delightful anticipation. Her time in Greece had been the perfect way to put the frustration and disappointment of last year behind her.

“ Kalimera , Theodora.” Lykourgos stood when he spotted her from the aft second-tier deck, where a table for three was laid with the finest china and crystal. Side tables held a variety of breakfast fare: fresh fruit, cheeses, croissants, and honeyed yogurt, strong Greek coffee and juices, and sterling-silver warming trays with lids. “I hope you slept well.” He pulled out a chair for her.

“Good morning.” TQ looked from Kostas to his beautiful, twenty-six-year-old daughter, Ariadne.

“I was just leaving. Enjoy your morning.” Ariadne got up. “My friends will be picking me up shortly.” She kissed her father’s head and disappeared inside.

TQ had met the young woman yesterday for the first time, and although the girl struck her as immaculately groomed, exceptionally educated and bright—in other words, a worthy successor to her father’s multi-million-dollar business—TQ didn’t like the way Ariadne scrutinized her, as if waiting for TQ to falter and expose her less-impressive background. Maybe mutual antipathy was inevitable between two strong women.

The day was already warm and the sun was barely up, but the steady sea breeze made it comfortable on the boat. “May I assume the promised land isn’t far off?” she asked her host. Lykourgos had invited her on his yacht with the purpose of a business proposition. TQ couldn’t wait to hear what kind of business this Greek tycoon wanted with her. So far, he had been vague, but something told her it would be big.

“Agio Oros,” he replied. “Mount Athos. The most splendid view in Halkidiki and home to some of the world’s most magnificent ancient treasures.”

His description got her full attention. “What kind of treasures?” she asked.

“There are twenty monasteries on the Holy Mountain,” he said, “the oldest dating back more than a thousand years. They contain an abundance of medieval art, richly drawn icons, ancient manuscripts, religious objects like chalices, holy relics, and elaborate codices. Some of the icons are believed to work miracles. An effort to catalogue and preserve the treasures has been under way for some thirty years or more, but the sheer magnitude of the collection is so vast, it will take many more decades to complete.”

“I can’t wait to see some of them,” TQ replied, already calculating how she might acquire a few choice pieces for her own collection.

“That will be impossible, I’m afraid.” Lykourgos frowned apologetically. “Women are prohibited from entering the mountain. Even for men, it is difficult and requires a special visa, signed by four of the secretaries of the leading monasteries. Although part of the Greek state, Agio Oros is self-governed, with its own rules.”

“Surely an exception can be made,” TQ said, and sipped her coffee. “We merely need to provide the good monks with the proper incentive.”

Lykourgos’s deep laugh made him even more attractive. “I have heard that you do not take no for an answer, Theodora. But I assure you, even my money can’t get you in.”

“I doubt there’s anything money can’t do, but that aside, why are you taking me to a place I’m not allowed to enter?” The sexist prohibition already irritated TQ.

“Come,” he said, extending his hand. “We are getting close now. Let me show you.”

They were momentarily distracted by the approach of a much smaller, but also luxurious, yacht. “Ariadne, your friends are here,” Lykourgos called out.

The young woman reemerged from below, wearing a turquoise bikini that matched her eyes and showed off her long, lean body. She said something in Greek to her father and gave TQ a cold stare before she made her way to the lower-deck stairs. From there, she jumped into the water and swam to the waiting yacht, where a group of five young women waited for her.

“She is my most precious achievement,” Lykourgos said.

“She looks very much like you.” TQ tried to sound respectful of his adoration for his irksome daughter.

“Only on the outside. She’s sharper and tougher than I’ll ever be. She is already thriving in the company.”

“Good for her.” TQ shrugged. “Now, back to what interests me.”

He led her forward, six levels up, to the sundeck. There they had a 360-degree view, but the sight ahead demanded their full attention.

Mount Athos rose dramatically from the sea, an enormous sharp-peaked pinnacle that appeared a deep, dark blue against the azure Aegean. A magnificent spectacle all on its own, and made the sight of a lifetime with the addition of the enormous monastery perched atop an enormous stone cliff just ahead. It towered over them, more than a thousand feet in the air.

“There were once three hundred monasteries on the Holy Mountain,” Lykourgos said. “This is the Simonopetra Monastery, or Simon’s Rock. It was founded in the thirteenth century by Simon the Athonite and is still in use. Its choir is world renowned.”