Lie With Me / Destiny's Hand

Her arms locked around his neck, her teeth sank into his shoulder. Then she whispered into his ear, “Make me come again.”

Roman’s head reeled.

“Protection,” he said in a desperate attempt to keep his focus. His fingers shook as he sheathed himself.

“You’d better hurry.” She nipped his earlobe, then pulled his mouth to hers. “I want you now.”

“Right now.” Gripping her hips, he hitched her up and drove into her where they stood. The door slammed hard into the jamb, and he was certain he heard his control snap in the same instant. Then her taste exploded inside of him, and he knew that he might never get enough. Of it. Of her.

His body took over, moving faster and faster. Hers kept pace, meeting him thrust for thrust until he knew nothing else, wanted nothing else but Philly. When she tightened around him like a slick, hot fist, he lost himself in her.

WHEN MY BRAIN CELLS clicked on again, I was straddling Roman’s lap, my head on his shoulder. Bright moonlight streamed through the open balcony door. I had no idea how long we’d been sitting there like that. But I didn’t want to move. Gradually, more details filtered through the sensual fog that still held me in its grip. I could see Roman’s slacks pooled on the floor beside us. His back was against the door, his arms were around me…and he was still inside of me.

As my brain alerted my body to that fact, I felt my inner muscles tighten around him. Incredibly, fresh desire rippled through me.

He slipped a finger under my chin and drew my face up until our eyes met. I read concern in his.

“Are you all right, Philly?”

I smiled at him. “I keep telling you I’m not Philly.” And I didn’t feel like Philly anymore. It was as if my decision to seduce Roman and then finally making love with him had changed me. “But I am fabulous.”

His gaze remained intent on mine. “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Positive.” I trailed a finger down his throat to his shoulder. “But I left teeth marks on you.”

He smiled then. “Feel free—anytime.”

Maybe it was the fact that he’d never smiled at me in quite that way before—a mixture of friendliness and intimacy. Or perhaps it was because he moved his hand until his fingers were spread against my cheek—but something stirred in me then. A knowledge, a certainty that I usually only experienced when I was communicating with animals.

This is the one.

An alarm sounded at the back of my mind. How often had Aunt Cass used just those words to describe what she’d felt, what she’d known the first time she’d seen my uncle Demetrius?

No. Roman Oliver wasn’t the one. Panic bubbled in my stomach. That was something the old Philly had dreamed of for seven long years. I was not about to fall into that trap again. Roman and I were going to have a torrid affair, and I was going to get him out of my system. When we returned to San Francisco, we were going to go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.

More than that, I wasn’t going to waste a moment of our time on Corfu worrying about silly childhood fantasies. Not when I could spend the time having incredible sex with Roman.

I traced my fingers over the bite mark. Then I lowered my mouth and bit him in the exact spot on his other shoulder. I felt him harden inside of me.

“Philly.” He gripped my waist to lift me, but I clamped my legs on his thighs as I nibbled my way to his neck.

“You told me to feel free.”

His fingers flexed at my waist. “If you keep that up, my plan to seduce you is going to be postponed again.”

“Speaking totally for myself, I think your first plan worked out fine.”

The laugh that vibrated from his throat sent a quick shiver through me. Straightening, I met his eyes. “I think it’s my turn to seduce you. Only there’s a rule. You can’t touch me until I tell you to.”

He raised his brows at that.

Since he was still wearing his shirt, I pushed it off his shoulders and down his arms, trapping them. “No cheating.”

I bit into his lower lip, and his shudder had new flames igniting inside of me. Unable to resist, I crushed his mouth with mine, and my tongue tangled with his. This time, I had control of the kiss, and I tried to take my time, savoring his dark rich flavor.

But I wanted more—my body craved more—so I lifted my hips and lowered myself onto him again. I hadn’t thought it possible for him to grow harder or larger, but he did both. And the flames inside of me threatened to turn into a wildfire.

With a moan, Roman dragged his mouth away from mine. “We need a new condom.”

“Yes.” I glanced around.

“In my pants pocket.”

I lifted my hips, nearly groaning in disappointment when he was no longer inside of me. While I located the condom and removed it from the package, Roman, in spite of his “shackles,” managed to dispose of the old one.

I sheathed him then, treating myself to the feel of the hard length of him as I did. There was a part of me that wanted to linger—to taste, to savor. But there was an aching emptiness inside of me, driving me. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I straddled him and slowly sank onto him. Each second of my descent was a delicious torture until he completely filled me. Our mouths met then, hot and wet and hungry. And my hips began to piston up and down.

I heard the rip of his shirt, and suddenly I was beneath him. We rolled across the floor, into thin streams of moonlight and out. I was as desperate as he, my hands as greedy. If it was a battle, we were both winning. Finally, trying to keep a grip on my sanity, I rose over him again. His fingers dug into my hips as we found that perfect speed and rhythm. My vision grayed, but his eyes were locked on mine as the madness took us.

7

I STOOD ALONE in the open doorway of my balcony. In the distance, the Ionian Sea gleamed bright blue in the morning sunshine, but my thoughts were still trapped in memories of the night Roman and I had spent together. Just thinking about what we’d done to each other was enough to heat my skin and melt parts of my body.

The word insatiable had taken on a new meaning for me. I’d learned things about myself and about my appetites that had shocked me. And driven me to learn more.

Together, we’d been like greedy children gorging ourselves on forbidden treats. The sky had been turning light and birds had been chirping when we’d finally fallen asleep. My last thought was that I fully understood Shakespeare’s Juliet when she’d cursed the lark that heralded the dawn.

I’d taken some time in the bathroom to study myself in the mirror. The seeds of change I’d sensed in myself when I’d decided to proposition Roman for the second time at dinner had come to fruition during the night. I wasn’t the same Philly I’d been before I’d come to Corfu. Something about being here on this island had made me…what? Stop dithering and decide to grab what the Fates were offering. My lips curved. That’s exactly the way my aunt Cass would put it.

I realized now that I’d given up way too easily when I’d visited Roman’s hospital room a month ago. I’d believed his lie and run away. Maybe I’d still been running by coming here to Greece. But I wasn’t going to run anymore. I’d found exactly what I wanted.

I heard the sound of the tap stop and knew that Roman had finished shaving. I very nearly sighed. In a matter of minutes we’d leave the world we’d created during the night and have to deal with the day.

As if on cue, the young man from the beach suddenly stepped out of the woods and began to cut a diagonal path toward the villa. The white cat—Ariel—followed him. She was still very worried. And tired.

She seemed to sense my presence and glanced up at me. I calmed my mind, and once again the image of the white cat lying in the dark place filled it.

Caliban? I asked her.

Yes.

Then she disappeared from my sight beneath the balcony.

I sensed Roman’s presence even before he touched my shoulder and ran his hand down my arm to link it with mine. I tried very hard not to let the casual intimacy of the gesture soften something deep inside of me.

“Your cousin returns,” he murmured.

“Looks like.”

Alexi—if it was him—looked tired and even younger than he’d appeared to be through my camera lens. He was wearing a T-shirt and what seemed to be the same shorts he’d worn on the beach the day before. He’d covered half the distance to the hotel when Miranda rushed across the lawn to meet him.

“You can’t come in.” Her tone was hushed, urgent.

Roman drew me back from the edge of the balcony so that we were out of sight, but we continued to eavesdrop.

“Why not?” Alexi asked.

“Inspector Ionescu is here looking for you. I told him you hadn’t returned. His men are searching your room right now. And Mr. Delos’s room. It was just luck that I saw you from the kitchen window. Go.”

Alexi ran a hand through his hair. “Has Magellan filed another complaint that I’ve been hanging around his precious castello and poking around his caves? Delos was hanging out in those caves more than I was. And Magellan can’t press charges against me for trespassing on his precious estate. I haven’t been able to get past the gate. Only Ariel slips through. She’s trying to lead me to Caliban. I know it. But the guards won’t let me in.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Mr. Magellan. It’s about the man you were arguing with on the beach yesterday.”

“Delos?”

“Then it was you?” Miranda began to wring her hands. “I knew it.”

“So I argued with Delos. That’s not a crime.”

“He was shot. Killed. That’s why the police are searching his room.”

Alexi seemed stunned into silence—but only for a moment. “Well, I didn’t shoot him.”

“You were there. Your cousin Philly Angelis saw you through the lens of her camera. She says you shoved him, knocked him down. And you didn’t come home last night.”

“I spent the night looking for Caliban.”

“Inspector Ionescu must suspect you had something to do with Mr. Delos’s death.” Miranda sounded panicked.

“Mom, I didn’t shoot Mr. Delos.” Alexi’s tone had gentled and he placed his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “Sure, I argued with him. He told me he’d seen Caliban in one of those caves beneath the Castello, but he wouldn’t show me which one. He said he had to get back here and make a call because his cell wouldn’t work. I was angry. Furious. But I didn’t shoot him. C’mon, we’ll go inside and I’ll talk to the inspector. It’s going to be all right.”

The moment I heard the door to the villa close, I turned to Roman. “Miranda knew who the dead man was all along.”

“Yes.” Roman’s tone was thoughtful. “But she’s worried about her son and perhaps a bit overprotective now that he’s all she has left of her family. And Alexi evidently has a temper.”

Whatever else Roman might have said was interrupted when Ariel suddenly appeared on our balcony railing. Again I calmed my mind and opened it. At first, I felt only her emotions. Frustration and anxiety were foremost.

Help.

Caliban is injured?

The image flashed into my mind of the barrel of a gun smashing down on a white cat’s leg. “I think her brother’s leg is broken. That’s why he’s lying so still and he can’t get home,” I murmured to Roman.

Ariel sat very still on the balcony watching us both.

“She told you that?” Roman asked softly.

“Not in words. I saw him getting hit by the barrel of a gun. Whoever did it must have left him in one of the caves. And you heard Alexi say that Delos had seen him there—and just left him.” I felt a wave of empathy for my cousin and a wave of anger at the indifference of Delos. “No wonder Alexi shoved Delos to the ground. I might have done the same myself.”

Ariel was sending more images now. In some of them the light was better. It seemed to be coming from above. Once again I saw the white cat lying very still in dappled sunlight. In most of them Ariel was sitting beside him. In one she had a small animal in her mouth. As far as I could make out they were on some kind of ledge.

“She’s bringing him food, and there’s water there,” I said softly to Roman. “He doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger.”

Help.

“But she’s worried.”

A knock sounded at the door. Releasing my hand, Roman went to open it. “Good morning, Demetria.”

Over my shoulder, I saw Demetria beam a smile at him. “Mr. Angelis, Mrs. Kostas said to fetch you. Inspector Ionescu is here. He wants to talk with you.”

“We’ll be right there.”

I turned back to Ariel. I can’t come right now. I felt her frustration and disappointment so strongly that I nearly took a step back.

I tried to reassure her. I’ll come as soon as I can. I’ll look for you on the beach where we were yesterday. I pictured the crescent-shaped stretch of sand as clearly as I could in my mind. I hoped that she understood as she leaped to the branches of a nearby cypress tree and then disappeared.

AS IT TURNED OUT, Roman and I had to wait our turn to talk to Inspector Ionescu. When Demetria led us out onto the terrace, he was seated at the same table he’d used yesterday. It was located at the far end, isolated from the other tables. This time Alexi sat across from him. There were two men in uniform standing behind my cousin.

I didn’t think that looked good and said as much to Roman once Demetria had served us coffee.

“I agree,” Roman said. “Alexi is most likely the last person to have seen Delos alive. Add to that the fact that you saw him shove the victim to the ground moments before he was shot, and that elevates your cousin to the prime suspect.”

My stomach twisted and I set down my coffee without tasting it. “He didn’t have a gun.”

“Not that you saw. But he was carrying a backpack.”

I frowned at him. “You sound like you’re building a case against him.”

“I’m just trying to think the way a policeman would.”

I glanced over at Alexi. The table was far enough away that it was impossible to overhear anything. The inspector seemed to be doing most of the talking.

“Ionescu’s a smart man,” Roman continued. “He has to know that Miranda recognized the description you gave of the younger man on the beach. He probably suspects that she recognized the description of Delos also. Policemen get annoyed when they’re lied to. He’s not going to be happy with us, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I imagine you were right on the money and he Googled Kit Angelis the moment he got back to his office. Your brother and I don’t look anything alike.”

“I told you to tell him the truth.”

“You could have ratted me out.”

But I hadn’t. Instead I’d backed up his lie. “Do you think he’ll arrest us?”

Roman reached across the table and gave my hand a squeeze. “I hope not. I called Kit yesterday when Ionescu was questioning you and gave him a heads-up about what was going on here. I also called my father. I imagine the inspector knows exactly who I am by now.”

Just then the inspector joined us. “Mr. Oliver, Ms. Angelis.”

The jig was obviously up. The moment Ionescu sat down, Demetria placed his coffee in front of him. He sipped it, then met Roman’s eyes. “Why did you lie about who you were yesterday?”

“Mrs. Kostas didn’t have any rooms. She was going to put me up somewhere in the village. Since she’s related to Philly, and I understand she’s had a very traditional Greek upbringing, I thought she might have concerns about my sharing a room with her. But I wasn’t about to let Philly stay here alone after someone took a shot at her.”

Ionescu turned to me. “You went along with the lie Mr. Oliver told Mrs. Kostas.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I met his eyes squarely. “Because I wanted Roman to stay with me.”

“I see.” He sipped his coffee, then asked, “Is the young man seated in front of my men the same person you saw arguing with the man in the wide-brimmed hat on the beach?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t know it was your cousin Alexi?”

“I’d never met him before. We still haven’t been formally introduced.”

Inspector Ionescu studied me for a moment as if he was weighing the truth of my explanation. I could feel heat staining my cheeks—I’d given him good reason to doubt my honesty.

“You’ve found out the identity of the dead man?” Roman interrupted.

Ionescu shifted his gaze to Roman. “Antony Delos. He was a guest here at the Villa Prospero for the past five days. His body was recovered by a fisherman early this morning about three miles down the coast. But I had already tracked his identity through his cell.”

“What have you found out about him?”

Ionescu paused to take another sip of coffee. “I know you are an astute businessman, Mr. Oliver. I also know you have powerful contacts here in Greece. This morning, I received several phone calls—one from a Detective Nik Angelis with the San Francisco Police Department, and another from Gianni Stassis. Both gave you glowing character references.”

“You know of Stassis?” Roman asked.

Ionescu shrugged. “We’re not quite so isolated here as you might think. He’s one of the richest men in Greece and he’s politically well connected. I dare say there are very few people in my country who would not recognize the name. I’d like to make a deal with you.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Normally, I don’t share information about an ongoing investigation. But in this instance, I’ll fill you in on what I know so far about Antony Delos on the understanding that you’ll share any information you can gather through Stassis and your other contacts.”

For a moment, Roman said nothing. Mentally, I urged him to make the deal. If indeed my cousin Alexi was a prime suspect, then we needed as much information as possible to help him.

“You believe that through Stassis I can gather information that you can’t?”

“What I believe is that you can access it more quickly.” He glanced at Alexi, then turned his attention back to Roman. “And because you have a family connection, I’m sure you can see the advantage of that.”

“You can’t believe that Alexi had something to do with Antony Delos’s murder,” I said.

Ionescu’s eyes, when they met mine, had the same flat expression that my brother Nik’s eyes always had when he was in cop mode. “What I believe doesn’t matter, Ms. Angelis. I have to go with the evidence.”

I swallowed hard when I realized that I’d supplied much of the evidence.

“Deal,” Roman said. “What have you found out about Antony Delos?”

“He used to work for Interpol, mostly on high-profile gem thefts. Five years ago, he went private. He was still doing the same work, but for insurance companies and even more frequently for the well-heeled victims of the thefts. I did a little checking. The last call placed on his cell was to Carlo Ferrante, an Italian billionaire whose villa in Tuscany was robbed of a fortune in jewels six days ago. Five days ago, Delos checked into the Villa Prospero. I don’t believe in coincidences, do you, Mr. Oliver?”

Something tightened in my stomach. Inspector Ionescu couldn’t suspect that Alexi or Miranda had something to do with the theft? I glanced over at my cousin again. He looked young and scared, hardly the picture of an international jewel thief.

Roman seemed equally unconvinced. “I remember reading about that jewel heist. The Wall Street Journal did an article on it complete with photos.”

Ionescu nodded. “I don’t know how detailed the article was, but the jewels have been in the Ferrante family for centuries, and they have an interesting history. Reputedly, they were part of a dowry when a Ferrante son married a French aristocrat in the fifteenth century. They’ve been passed down to the male heirs ever since. And this is the second time they’ve been stolen from Carlo Ferrante.”

“I don’t recall reading that,” Roman said.

“The first time, they were snatched from a museum in Belgium. Ferrante had loaned them out as part of an exhibition of medieval jewelry. Six months later, they were miraculously and anonymously returned to him by the thief. Ferrante returned the small fortune he’d collected from the insurance company.”

“Any idea of how Delos tracked the jewels to Corfu?”

For the first time since he’d seated himself at our table, the inspector smiled. “I’m hoping you can find out, Mr. Oliver. I couldn’t get Mr. Ferrante to take my call. But he might take a call from Gianni Stassis. Perhaps, you might be able to expedite matters on that front?”

“What’s in it for me?”

I stared at Roman. My contacts with him had all been social—either at my family’s restaurant or at our fishing cabin. For the first time, I was catching a glimpse of the cool, ruthless businessman I’d heard Kit brag so often about.

The blunt question didn’t bother the inspector at all. In fact, his smile grew wider. “For starters, I won’t mention to Mrs. Kostas that you’re not Ms. Angelis’s brother. I agree with you that she shouldn’t be alone until this matter is cleared up.” Then his expression sobered. “And the sooner we find out who shot Antony Delos, the safer Ms. Angelis will be.”

I was getting a little tired of being left out of the conversation, but before I could say anything, two men in uniform strode onto the terrace and came directly to our table.

“Someone searched Mr. Delos’s room before we got there,” the taller one said.

The other one wore gloves and lifted the rifle he was carrying. “We found this in Mr. Kostas’s room.”

Ionescu rose and moved to the table where Alexi was still seated in front of the other two policemen.

“Alexi, you’ll have to come down to the station with me.”

Miranda rushed over to her son, and I sprang from my chair to join her.

“You can’t think that he shot Mr. Delos,” I said to the inspector. “The man with the rifle was high up on the cliff face, close to the Castello. I can testify to that.”

The inspector ignored my outburst and I stood staring, horrified as the two uniformed men assisted my cousin to his feet and escorted him off the terrace. All of the breakfast conversation had stopped. Everyone was watching as Inspector Ionescu followed Alexi out of sight. Miranda started to weep softly, and I didn’t know what to say, what to do. It was Roman who went to her and simply folded her into his arms.

I felt my heart take a little tumble and that alarm sounded in the back of my mind again.

IT WAS NEARLY an hour later that Roman finished making calls. I inferred from eavesdropping on his side of the conversation that he’d asked Stassis to recommend a local attorney to represent Alexi. When I’d passed on that information to Miranda, it had done a great deal to settle her. Roman had even thought to call Kit and ask him to do research on Carlo Ferrante and both thefts of his family’s jewels. The man thought of everything.

In the meantime, the only thing I’d done was to hold my cousin Miranda’s hand and try to reassure her that Alexi would be home soon. Something that I was not at all sure of myself. Ever since he’d been escorted out of the Villa Prospero, questions had been spinning through my mind. What had he been doing with that gun? Why hadn’t he returned home until this morning?

I turned to Miranda and asked the question that only she could answer. “Why did you lie to Inspector Ionescu yesterday? You knew from my descriptions that I’d seen Alexi and Mr. Delos arguing on the beach.”

She slipped her hand from mine and clasped hers together. “I was so worried about Alexi. He hasn’t been himself since Caliban went missing. He loves those cats so much. They were a gift from his father shortly before he died.” She turned to me and met my eyes. “Alexi’s all I have left.” Then she lifted her chin. “But he wouldn’t shoot anyone. He doesn’t even have a gun.”

What she said made sense to me. The young man I’d seen on the beach had acted impulsively out of anger. And from what I’d learned since then, with good reason. But whoever had shot Antony Delos had chosen a spot on the cliff side and taken careful aim.