Chasing Adonis (6 page)

Adara clutched the sheet at her neck, covering her medallion
to keep her mother’s memory safe.

Ted’s face continued to radiate innocent adoration, a child
worshipping a favorite toy.

“I still don’t understand. Why you? If she believes herself
to be my guardian, why would she send you?”

“Because, my darling, I am to be your bridegroom.”

Chapter Five

“911, what is your emergency?”

“Help me, please.” The cultured tone with its heavy accent
couldn’t mask the tension on the recorded voice. “My fiancée is hurt. She
collided with one of those mechanical beasts you use for transport.”

Becky hit the pause button on the laptop and flashed  goo-goo
eyes in Shane’s direction. “Isn’t that the most divine voice you’ve ever
heard?”

“Divine,” Shane drawled. “Simply divine. Can we keep going
now?”

Smirking, she pointed her index finger and thumb like a gun
barrel. “You’re jealous.”

“Yeah, I’m jealous of a man who doesn’t know the word,
‘car.’”

She stuck out her tongue. He ignored her, and then hit the
“Play” button.

“Slow down, sir,” Becky’s professional moderated tone filled
the soundproofed room. “Let’s start again. What’s your name, please?”

“Ted. Tedior Pha.”

“Okay. Ted. Can you tell me what happened?”

“My fiancée was about to cross the street when I called out
to her. She turned while she was still walking and the chariot—
car
—ran
into her.”

“Chariot?” Shane
glared at Becky. “Really?”

“Ssshh!” Becky
slapped a hand in the air. “Just listen.”

“Where are you,
Ted?” the recorded Becky asked.

“The street poles
intersect at Sixth Street and Broadway.”

 “Great. You’re doing great, Ted. Just hang on now. I’m
going to alert the police and an ambulance, but I want you to stay on the line
with me until they show up, okay?”

“Yes.”

A long pause followed, punctuated by muffled shouts of
indiscernible noise.

“Tell me about the victim. She’s your fiancée?”

“Yes. Adara Berros. She’s beautiful and kind and—”

“That’s not what I mean. Tell me about her injuries. Is she
conscious?”

“I-I’m not sure. Her eyes aren’t open. She groaned before,
but she hasn’t made a sound or motion since. I’m afraid to move her…”

Incredible. The dialogue was similar to what Shane remembered,
but now Adara’s lines came from the mysterious Tedior Pha’s mouth. How was this
possible?

“What about the car that hit her? Any injuries to the
driver?”

“No,” Ted replied. This time his voice was sure and
confident, take-charge. “There is no one else here.”

“Where’s the car that hit Adara, Ted?” Becky prompted.

“Gone.”

“Did you see the car or the driver? Can you give me a
description?”

Shane sat up. This was new.

“No. It was too dark. Too…fast.”

“And I’m the Great Pumpkin.” The retort left Shane’s mouth
before he could second-guess himself. His instincts refused to be silent. He
pointed to the machine, then looked at Becky. “I can hear it in his voice. He’s
lying. If there really was a hit and run, he recognized something at the scene.
The driver, the car, something.”

“If?” Becky shook her head and bit into her chocolate bar.
“What exactly are you looking for, Shane?”

Damned if he knew. But he was onto something. He rose from
the chair. “Thanks, Becs. I owe you one.”

“No charge. Anytime you want to come back and listen to Mr.
Foreign Affair, let me know.” She grinned. “If I thought I could get away with
it, I’d take a copy of this tape home for those lonely Saturday nights when the
kids are with their father.”

Her lusty cackles followed him outside.

~~~~

Shock stiffened Adara’s spine. “You’re what?”

Ted lounged in the chair, long legs spread out before him as
if made of liquid. “I am your bridegroom.”

Sitting up, she fumbled for the call button lost in her bed
sheets. “Get out.” She found the cord and pulled until the buzzer itself landed
in her palm. “Get out now.”

He simply smiled. Adara was beginning to hate that insipid
smile.

“Do not fear, dear one,” he intoned. “I realize the idea is
foreign to you. It need not happen right away. You will see. In time, you will
fall deeply in love with me.”

Yeah, right. And in time, a lump of coal becomes a
diamond, too, pal.
“That’s ridiculous. We don’t even know each other.”

“Oh, I know you, Adara Berros. I know you as no other
could.”

She snorted in disbelief.

“You doubt me?” he asked with a raised brow. She gave him
her best skeptical look, and he sighed. “Very well. You have a fondness for
black cats and butterflies. You used to love your job, but now you believe your
company and others like it care more about profit than they do the people
they’re entrusted to help. You also feel your concerns go unaddressed until a
superior draws attention to them or a client has a catastrophic issue. Only
then are the problems noticed, and usually the blame falls in your lap.”

Unease tickled her throat, leaving her dry-mouthed. How
could he possibly know so much about her?

“Cute trick,” she said firmly, hoping to convince herself
with her own argument. “Lots of people claim to read minds by sticking to
generic statements. Stuff like, ‘The month of November holds some kind of
significance for you…’”

“November holds no significance for you,” Ted retorted.
“Except, perhaps, for that despicable American holiday where people overeat and
overshop to prove how thankful they are for all the gods have given them.”

A surge of patriotic pride rose in her. “You just don’t
understand what Thanksgiving’s all about.”

“April,” he interjected. “April is the month you hate. You
lost both your parents in the month of April. In different years, of course.”

The itch in her throat crept down her spine like a spider.
Once again, she grabbed her mother’s medallion. “You read my diary,” she
accused. “Or went through my garbage. Or hired a private investigator to follow
me around.”

He shook his head. “Such machinations are beneath me. You
wear your mother’s
fludee
, the medallion you cling to when you are
troubled. She gave it to you when your father left, told you it was a
traditional Greek gift from mother to child to protect you from evil in this
world. It stays around your neck always, a reminder of the woman who loved you
like no other and the father you don’t believe deserved your childish
adoration.

“You loved your father. You worshiped him as the hero of all
your little girl dreams. But when he abandoned you and your mother, a part of
you died. The part of you that trusted men and believed in happily ever after.
On the night you realized he would not return, you lay in your pretty pink
canopied bed and vowed to keep your heart free so that you would never again
know such pain.”

“Who told you about me?”

He chuckled and removed her hand from the
fludee
to
raise her fingertips to his lips. “I…” He kissed her knuckle. “…will show you…”
Another knuckle, another kiss. “…that true love…” Kiss. “…does exist.” Kiss,
kiss. “And that it does not bring pain, but exquisite joy. I shall devote
eternity to you and make you happier than you have ever been. You will forget
that foolish fellow, Terence, who did not deserve his place in your heart.”

Terry. No one had mentioned Terry since the trial. She tried
to pull her hand from his grasp, but he held her fast, captivating her with his
wondrous eyes while his flickering touch danced over her wrist. “Y-you know
about Terry?”

“I know everything about you, dear one. From the moment of
your birth, I have known your every dream. Do you remember, as a child, you
wished to be the first female astronaut in space? When NASA chose Sally Ride to
orbit the earth in the Challenger, you were furious. You did not wish to be the
second or third female astronaut. You wanted to be first, and Sally stole that
dream from you.” His lips moved from her fingertips to her palm, sending electric
pulses into her veins. “It was a long time before you allowed yourself to have
another dream after that.”

“Did my Aunt Persephone tell you all this?”

“She knows you as well as I,” he replied, his eyes hooded
behind those thick lashes. “And loves you just as deeply. That is why she has
given me permission to woo you and win you for my own. We belong together, you
and I.”

“What if I don’t want to marry you? What if I don’t want to
marry anyone? This is America, not Cyprus. Here, women choose their own husbands.
When
they’re ready.
If
they’re ready.”

“No one will force you to do anything you do not wish to do.
All I ask is the opportunity to show you how deeply I love you.”

Hot blood rushed to her face, and she stared at the
bunched-up curtain behind him. Wouldn’t someone come in to rescue her? A nurse?
An orderly? A Jehovah’s Witness?

“What are you looking for, dear one?”

Her gaze snapped back to him, and her foggy mind scrambled
for some lame excuse. “I-I’m thirsty.”

He tsked and glanced at the empty plastic pitcher on the
tray beside her bed. Yet, he made no move to fill it.

Nice guy
.
A real prince among men.

“I rather think my words are making you uncomfortable, my
darling,” he said. “Because the men you’ve known previously did not know how to
appreciate you. You intimidated them because you are so capable, so
independent, so unique and strong. You have a fire inside you that frightens
mere mortals.”

Maybe if she kept him talking, someone would come in soon.
Meanwhile, she scanned the bedside table, seeking an object heavy enough to
bonk him over the head if he tried anything. Nothing lay within reach but the
empty water pitcher with its equally empty plastic cup and a torn bandage
wrapper. The call buzzer burned her palm, and she allowed her thumb to hover
over the bright red button.

“On the other hand,” he continued. “I am no mere mortal.
That is why we are so perfectly suited to one another.”

“Oh?” She steepled her brow. “You’re unique, strong, capable
and independent with a fire inside, too?”

“No.” His laughter rang like church bells on a snowy night.
“I am your adoring slave. No more, no less.”

The heat rose again, higher this time, all the way to her
scalp. “Please, stop saying stuff like that.”

He placed his hand over his chest. “My darling requests, and
I comply.”

Despite her efforts to remain poised, his endless
endearments skidded across her nerves. Goosebumps prickled her skin. Her right
index finger wandered between her teeth, and she gnawed on the white crescent
of nail. “Don’t you have somewhere to go? Or something to do?”

He shook his head. “My time is yours. As am I.”

“Terrific.” Adara proceeded to chew all ten nails down to
the quick.

~~~~

The heavy scent of the perfumed flowers made Shane’s nose
twitch. Good thing he wouldn’t have to hold them much longer. When the elevator
doors hissed opened on the sixth floor, he slid past the other visitors with a
mumbled, “Excuse me.”  Worse than the flowers, he hated hospitals in
general. He hated the antiseptic smell, hated the medical staff’s marshmallow
shoes that cushioned every sound. He swore those shoes were intentional,
devised so a crafty RN could sneak up and give a patient a surprise enema.

Fighting shivers of revulsion, Shane approached the station where
three nurses chatted in low tones. “I’m looking for Adara Berros’s room,” he
told the woman standing closest to the rounded desk.

She glanced down at a clipboard full of plastic-coated index
cards in rainbow hues. After flipping to a pink card, she pointed to her right.
“Room 612. Down the hall.”

“Thanks.”

The sign outside the door of Room 612 showed only Adara’s
name in the slot. She didn’t have a roommate. So why, then, did he hear voices?
Was there a doctor in the house? Or had the mysterious Tedior Pha slipped into
Ms. Berros’s room unnoticed? It wouldn’t be the first time the overworked
medical staff failed to spot an interloper in their midst.

In this case, however, he hoped Mr. Pha had indeed managed
to sneak past the front desk undetected. Shane would love the opportunity to
let the bastard know he was on to him. With cool satisfaction rushing in his
veins, he pushed open the door and came face to face with Pretty Boy himself.

This was the guy Becky and Heather made such a fuss over?
He’d scraped better looking shit off his shoe. Ted Pha was tall, blond, and
prissy. He reminded Shane of a golden retriever, all flowing hair and biddable
stupidity. And quite possibly, very sharp teeth.

If Pha knew what Shane thought of him, he kept his outrage masked
behind an expression of puppy eagerness.

“Detective Griffin.” Pha took the vase of cut flowers,
inhaled, and smiled.

“I didn’t bring them for you,” Shane drawled.

Pha’s eyes widened, and his lashes batted against his
cheeks. “Of course not. Still, such a sweet gesture, I would add my thanks for
your generosity. Look, Adara, my darling. The detective remembered your
birthday.”

The moment Pha said her name, Shane’s head swiveled to the
woman lying in the hospital bed near the window. She appeared surprisingly
comfortable considering the extent of her injuries. But her expression was
blank, as if she’d never seen him before.

“Ms. Berros?” He stepped forward so she could see him more
clearly. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, though he sensed she did it
more to be polite than because she appreciated his kindness. “How did you know
it was my birthday?”

“My doing, dearest,” Pha cut in. “I fear I was terrified I
might lose you, and in my hysteria, I blurted out to Mr. Griffin that you
couldn’t die on your birthday.”