It seemed to her that the thieves had eschewed the most valuable pieces in the collection in favor of the Impressionists. Perhaps there was more of a demand for Impressionist works on the black market. Perhaps the display cases that protected the manuscripts had been too difficult or time consuming to breach.
Acacia didn’t have answers to her musings, but visiting the gallery with Nicholas, she’d caught a glimpse of the loss that had transformed him into the figure he now was—a man bent on justice.
She put her computer aside. She needed air and a diversion, or she’d end up pacing her room all night.
Nicholas had warned her to keep to the house, noting the guards and dogs that patroled the grounds. But Acacia was seized with the inspiration to take a moonlit swim.
Outside her bedroom, the corridor was empty and dark. She crossed to the staircase and quietly descended. She passed through a series of rooms before she exited onto the terrace.
The night was cool and still. She walked the length of the terrace to where steps led down to the swimming pool.
The pool wasn’t enclosed. Dim lighting shone around the perimeter and illuminated the landscaped area and a series of lounge chairs.
She hadn’t brought a bathing suit. But it was the middle of the night, and no one was around. She doubted the security guards would trouble her.
She quickly undressed to her bra and underwear, both of which were black, and slipped into the heated water. She was surprised to discover the pool was saline.
She swam from end to end, careful not to make too much noise, and reveled in the movement of her muscles. She floated on her back in the center of the pool and inspected the clouded sky.
She knew tragedy and loss. She understood the quest for justice. But she began to wonder about Nicholas’s obsession and the lengths he would go to punish those responsible for his sister’s death.
It didn’t matter. She’d given him the journal. He was having her apartment repaired. She’d be able to return to Paris in a day or so and try to find another position. She’d never see Nicholas again.
When she was sufficiently exhausted, she climbed out of the pool and found a towel next to her abandoned clothes. She looked around.
No one was visible.
She picked up the towel and began to dry her body. She squeezed the water from her curly hair in an attempt to dry it.
A hand touched her shoulder.
Without thinking, she dropped the towel and grasped her assailant’s palm in both hands. She wrenched it backward until he yelped.
The assailant twisted and slid behind her, then freed his wrist and placed his forearm under her chin.
She bumped her hip into his and used the movement to leverage his weight in order to throw him over her shoulder.
The assailant planted his feet and lifted her in return. “Rick was right. You can take care of yourself.”
Nicholas placed her on her feet and stepped away.
She turned and found him grinning.
“I’m tired of being tested by you.” She glared and placed her hand on her hip.
“How can that be when you keep passing every test?” He shook out his wrist with a grimace. “You nearly snapped it.”
“You nearly deserved it.”
Nicholas’s gaze washed over her body—her high breasts encased in black, her thong underwear that showcased her toned thighs and curvy backside, and the pendant that swung from her neck.
She shook her head at him and retrieved the towel to shield herself from his perusal.
“You can’t fault an art collector for appreciating beauty.” He reproved her gently.
“I’m not eager to be collected.”
“If a man were fortunate enough to win you, he’d give away his collection.” Nicholas turned his back to give her privacy.
Acacia wrapped the towel around herself and removed her underthings. She dropped them to the patio. Then she pulled on her clothes and hid her wet things in the towel. “I’m decent.”
Nicholas turned around, his hands thrust in his pockets.
She noticed he was still dressed. “You can’t sleep?”
“I only sleep a few hours a night.”
“Planning to swim?”
“Working.” His expression shifted. He appeared tense.
“Thanks for the towel.”
“You’re welcome.” He glanced around. “Do you want to walk?”
“No, I took a swim to tire myself. I’m ready to sleep.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
Without another word, Nicholas accompanied her inside the house.
“Should I put those in the dryer?” He indicated the wet bundle she carried.
“No, I’ll hang them up.” She paused at the bottom of the staircase and waited for him to say something. Nicholas was at least six inches taller than her, his shoulders wide, his eyes piercing.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth—to his full lower lip and strong, stubbled chin. And then, as if her eyes had decided to sabotage her, her gaze drifted to the location of his scar.
Nicholas turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I HAVE TO LEAVE FOR GREECE TOMORROW.”
Acacia looked up from her breakfast, her spoon in midair. “Sorry?”
Nicholas pulled out the chair next to her and sat. He placed a napkin across his lap. “I have to travel to Greece on business. I’d like you to come with me.”
She shook her head. “I’m going home.”
“Your apartment isn’t habitable.”
“I’ll stay with a friend.”
Irritation flared across Nicholas’s face. “People are after you. Until we identify and neutralize the threat, you’re in danger.”
“What about Marcel’s journal? Isn’t it helpful?”
“I’m afraid not. I have someone analyzing it, but Marcel wrote in shorthand.”
“Then why were those men so intent on recovering it?”
“I hope to find out.” He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome to stay here. But I could use your help.”
“What kind of help?”
“As I said when we met at the KLH offices, my executive assistant can no longer travel with me. I could use an extra set of eyes and ears. I may need you to act as an interpreter.
“It will be a short trip—only a few days and a couple of meetings. But it will give you a chance to see what I do.”
“You still want me to be your assistant?”
He frowned. “Of course.”
She put down her spoon. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together.”
He looked very displeased. “I thought we were allies.”
“We are. But I need to focus on finding a job for the long term.”
“I’ve just offered you one.” He sounded exasperated.
Stubbornly, she continued to eat breakfast.
He leaned forward. “You know it’s better for your curriculum vitae to resign a post than to be fired.”
“Yes, I know that.”
“You’ll be paid well. My security team will travel with us. You’ll have separate, private accommodations, and you’ll probably have some time to explore while I’m in meetings.”
It was her turn to frown. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but do you know when my apartment will be finished?”
“It will take a few days. They’re going to need to repair the walls in addition to the damage to the kitchen. We can call the contractor after breakfast, and you can speak to him directly.”
“Thank you.”
Nicholas sat back in his chair and poured himself a cup of coffee from a French press. He peered over at the mocha-colored liquid in Acacia’s cup. “I thought you drank your coffee black.”
“Not at breakfas
t.”
“Ah.” He picked up a piece of brioche and began slathering it with butter and apricot jam.
Acacia lifted her coffee cup. “I don’t think I can return to the Victoire after everything that’s happened.”
Nicholas chewed his brioche thoughtfully. He swallowed. “I think that’s wise.”
“I probably shouldn’t press my luck by calling in sick again today, which means I’ll have to send a letter of resignation.”
“Tell them you’ve received a better offer from CI Paris and will be starting immediately.”
“CI Paris?”
“The Paris office of one of our wealth management companies. Your contract will be with them. I’ll have the director apply for your temporary work permit, as well as an EU Blue Card.”
Acacia looked out over the grounds to where the Alps were visible above the trees. Majestic, snow-covered mountains rose against a blue sky, with only the barest wisp of cloud hanging above them.
Mountains didn’t have to worry about employment, or supporting their mothers, or persistent Swiss businessmen who clearly had a weakness for brioche and apricot jam.
“You have a job offer on the table,” Nicholas’s low voice continued. “Working with me will buy us time to find out who is after the journal.”
He cleared his throat. “You said last night I needed new friends.”
Her eyes met his.
“Be my friend, Acacia.”
“You’re friendly with your assistants?”
“My current assistant has been with me almost ten years. I’m going to be the godfather of her first child later this year.”
“You don’t look like a godfather.”
He lifted his arm over his head. “I’m not tall enough?”
She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. At six-foot-three, Nicholas was tall. But not too tall in her estimation.
“We will make a good team, Acacia.”
She sighed. “You helped me when I needed it. I’ll help you in return. But after Greece, I want to go home.”
“I’ll take you to Paris personally.”
“I’ll sign a contract, but I’d like us to agree that Greece is a trial period. I won’t accept any money, and we can both see if this is feasible longer term.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Nicholas interrupted. “How will you—”
“It isn’t ridiculous,” she interrupted in return. “We might discover we don’t work well together.”
“I doubt it.”
She frowned. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ve seen your work ethic, and I’ve spent time with you. I’m a good judge of character, Acacia. I sized you up almost immediately.”
She placed her coffee cup on its saucer with loud thump. “You sized me up and asked for Marcel.”
“Because he was my contact.” Nicholas tossed his napkin on the table. “You turned around and suggested I donate those ridiculous items I bought for Silke to benefit hungry children.”
“And they did. I received an email from the organization telling me they raised thousands of Euros on your donation alone.”
“Precisely. Don’t you see? We already work well together.”
“What about your current assistant?”
Nicholas rubbed his eyes. “She’s on bed rest until the baby’s born. She had a scare and was in the hospital.”
“I’m sorry.” Acacia turned in her chair. “I’ll sign a contract, but I won’t accept a salary until after Greece. I need a trial period.”
“Fine,” Nicholas said grumpily. “I’ll have Madame Bishop send over your contract. Juliet has the number for the contractor in Paris. You can speak to him about his progress. After that, your first official task is to put together a wardrobe for a personal assistant. You’ll need formal wear, in addition to business attire.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that a typical task?”
“At the beginning, yes. My current assistant was given a clothing allowance when she started. We have to make a certain impression, but it’s an impression I’ll gladly finance.”
“Really?”
“I thought you were a concierge, Acacia.” The edges of his lips twitched. “Surely this can’t be a difficult proposition?”
“Concierges don’t usually act as personal shoppers for themselves.”
His eyes twinkled. “Think of this as an opportunity to acquire a new skill set. I have a line of credit at several boutiques in Geneva. Juliet will give you the list, and she can accompany you, along with Kurt.
“I have to return to Zurich this morning. I won’t be back until late tonight. We’ll leave for Santorini tomorrow.”
Acacia felt a sudden pang of…something, at the thought of rambling around the large estate without him. She hid her reaction behind a restrained smile. “Did you say Santorini?”
“I did. Be sure to include athletic wear, in case we go to the beach.”
“The beach? Do you conduct business at the beach?”
He chuckled. “If I’m fortunate.”
“While you’re away, is there a place I can practice my martial arts?”
“Planning a work out, mademoiselle?”
She shrugged. “I try to practice every day. Don’t you?”
“Good point. There’s a small gymnasium that should suit your purposes. Juliet will show you where it is.”
“Thank you.”
Nicholas stood and touched her shoulder. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Acacia turned in her chair to watch her attractive new employer walk away.
Chapter Twenty-Five
LATE THAT NIGHT, Nicholas stood in the hall outside his bedroom at his parents’ house.
It was late. He’d just returned from Zurich.
He’d visited the pool first, hoping to join Acacia for a swim. Sadly, she seemed to have retired for the evening.
He walked to her room and paused outside the door. No sounds were audible. Nicholas sighed in relief. He hoped she was sleeping well.
She was probably the strongest woman he’d ever met, with the exception of his sister.
Nicholas’s gaze flickered to the next room.
Riva’s room was adjacent to Acacia’s. He hadn’t been inside in years. But somehow, he found himself walking to the door and pushing it open.
He turned on the light.
He was surprised at how clean it was. Juliet and her staff kept all the rooms pristine, and Riva’s was no exception. But they hadn’t put away her things. Her artwork stood at the ready, as if it waited for her.
Nicholas carried several burdens, some of which had been placed on him by others. Some burdens he’d taken on himself. His sense of responsibility for his sister was something he’d felt since the night of her murder.
If he hadn’t rushed her because he was so eager for her to meet his fiancée, she might still be alive. Perhaps the thieves would have left before she noticed them.
Thierry, the security guard, had survived his assault. Riva had not been so fortunate.
At least Thierry had provided information about the culprits.
Nicholas avoided looking at the portrait of Riva that hung on the wall of her room. Guilt kept his gaze averted as he walked to the door.
He’d sworn to avenge her death, and until he’d done so, he wouldn’t look her image in the eye.
He switched off the light, closed the door, and strode past Acacia’s room toward his own as he wrested his tie from his neck in frustration.
A tall, slim figure floated up the staircase.
Nicholas stopped short. He stared into the semi-darkness in confusion.
“Maman?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE NEXT MORNING, Acacia rose early. She ventured out to the pool in her new swimsuit and swam la
ps for thirty minutes. It was a warm, sunny day, and with the Alps as a backdrop, Acacia enjoyed her swim very much.
She returned to her room long before anyone else was awake to shower and pack. She dressed simply for the flight to Santorini—white pants, a yellow short-sleeved shirt, and bronze-colored sandals. To add more color, she twisted a multi-colored scarf through the belt loops of her pants.
She heard voices coming from the terrace as she approached the dining room. Through the open door she saw Nicholas at the breakfast table. This morning he wasn’t seated at the head. She found that curious.
As soon as she stepped onto the terrace, she realized Nicholas was not alone.
“Acacia.” He stood and gave her a restrained smile.
Seated next to him was a very attractive older woman with variegated strands of blond, shoulder-length hair. She turned her blue eyes to Acacia inquisitively.
Nicholas materialized at Acacia’s side and pulled her chair out for her. “Maman, this is Acacia Santos. Acacia, this is my mother, Hélène Cassirer.”
As soon as the import of Nicholas’s introduction seeped into Acacia’s consciousness, she smiled politely. “I’m pleased to meet you, madame.”
“And you, mademoiselle.” Madame Cassirer returned the smile.
Acacia looked up at Nicholas. “I’m sorry for interrupting. I’ll just—” She gestured toward the house.
“We’ve been expecting you.” Madame Cassirer nodded at the chair Nicholas pulled out. “I’m afraid my husband is still sleeping. We arrived from Tahiti late last night.”
Acacia glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table and its untouched place setting. Nicholas’s parents had come home.
She felt like a trespasser.
She sat down and carefully unfolded her napkin, placing it in her lap. When she lifted her head, Madame Cassirer’s eyes were on her. They were curious.
Nicholas regained his seat next to his mother just as Gretle appeared. She served coffee and orange juice, along with champagne.
“I haven’t seen my son in some time, so I insisted on a celebratory drink,” Madame explained.