Tentyrian Legacy (28 page)

I’m unsure of what to do. But I know a threat
when I hear one. It’s unlikely my neighbors or the doorman will
come to the rescue. The walls and floor are all soundproof. I have
three men in my apartment. And Maximos clearly has a psychic
ability. Not to mention he is probably unstable. My escape plan
will need to be shelved.

“Fine, I’ll do it. Get off of me!” I say
vehemently.

Maximos gingerly removes his hands from my
wrists and stands up. He eyes me suspiciously as I sit up from the
floor, rubbing the circulation back into my hands. There is a
throbbing ache. I will likely have bruises. Maximos looks contrite
as he sees he’s hurt my wrists.

“I’m sorry I grabbed you so hard, but you
could have gotten yourself killed! What were you thinking?” He has
the audacity to scold me? “I’m not going to explain myself to you
or your henchmen!”

I assume the henchmen are “Hale and Philip”
he referenced earlier. They must still be on the other side of the
door. The still blocked door. How is that possible? “Wait, how did
you get in here? The door is still locked!” I stand up quickly. My
heart is beating a mile a minute, and I still have the taste of his
blood in my mouth.

“I’ll show you, if you pack,” he says with an
arched brow. “Five minutes, Arianna.” Maximos strides over to the
dresser and pushes it aside effortlessly. He opens the door to a
grim-looking Hale and Philip. One of them looks incredibly
familiar, but I can’t place why.

“We’re leaving in five,” Maximos addresses
them. They nod in unison.

“We found this, Max,” says the henchman who I
think I’ve seen before, as he hands over a black plastic disc no
more than a quarter big. “Thanks, Hale. Not a surprise. You
deactivated it?” asks Maximos.

“Of course,” responds Hale.

“Good. We’ll have Aristos look at it back at
the lab.” Maximos turns toward me sternly. “Four minutes, Arianna.
Philip, go with her to make sure she packs. I’m going to make a
call.” What was that disc? “Miss, I’m very sorry we frightened you
earlier,” says Philip in an impeccably polite English tone. “Can I
help you with your luggage?”

Is this guy a bellhop?

I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I
manage to say the words, “Top shelf, closet.” My mind is racing,
but before I can organize my thoughts into a cohesive story, Philip
arrives with my rolling suitcase. The next few minutes go by in
slow motion. I open my dresser drawers and methodically fold
T-shirts, underwear, and jeans into the suitcase. I don’t even know
where I’m going or for how long. But I don’t want to ask. I figure
the longer I draw this out the more time I’ll have to gather my
energy and think. It’s not long before Maximos is back.

“You still aren’t ready? Philip, what have
you been doing?” Maximos asks impatiently.

“I didn’t want to upset her,” the Englishman
responds defensively. “That’s the least of our worries.” Maximos
begins to open dresser drawers, reaching for handfuls of clothes
and throwing them carelessly into the suitcase. He paces over to my
closet, scoops up some shoes, and grabs a few things off the
hangers. “Do you have toiletries you need?” he asks. He might as
well be speaking another language. I still don’t understand why
this happening. And he is asking me if I need toiletries?

“Okay, well whatever, you won’t need it. We
are out of time,” says Maximos. Philip zips up the suitcase,
efficiently tucking in the loose pieces of fabric poking out of the
bulging bag. Am I going on a one-way trip? Will I ever see anyone
again? Laura, Raad, Beau? That thought helps snap me out of this
surreal daydream.

“Where is my dog? He was at the house when
you took me,” I ask, as the power of speech begins to dawn on
me.

“He is safe; in fact, he is where I’m taking
you.”

“And where is that?”

“You’ll see, matia mou.”

Kidnapping 101—your chance of survival
plummets if you get moved to another location.

“I need to use the bathroom before we go,” I
say with feigned calm. “Fine, hurry up. Philip, go with her,”
Maximos orders. A faint blush colors Philip’s pale cheeks.

“I don’t need an escort; plus there is
nowhere for me to go,” I respond defiantly.

Maximos’ pocket vibrates. He answers in what
sounds like Greek, the same language of the absurd pet name he’s
given me—matia mou. Distracted with answering his phone, he
dismisses me with a wave of his hand. He probably treats everyone
in his life like that, dismissing them when it’s convenient for
him. I’ve never met someone so arrogant! As I walk out of the
bedroom, I eye the front door that looks unguarded. This is my
chance. I sprint to the right. But just as my hand reaches for the
handle, the door opens to Hale. Foiled again.

“Hello, ma’am, pleased to meet you again.” He
grins cheekily and extends his hand. This time I look closer at
him, absorbing his features. He is of medium height with a muscular
build. His face is on the rounder side, and his hair is a fiery
red. I saw that red hair yesterday poking up from a newspaper. He
is the man who sat next to me on the train! I want to stamp my feet
and scream. I can feel tears of frustration at the corners of my
eyes.

“Enough is enough,” I hear Maximos say.
“You’re becoming a liability.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward
him. Maximos wraps his arms around me. My own arms are locked by my
sides. My face is buried in his chest, undoubtedly making it wet
with my tears that I know are coming down. I hope I ruin his shirt.
I don’t try to move because it’s pointless.

“Philip, Hale. We’re ready,” Maximos says
brusquely. He leans his head down and whispers in my ear, “I’m
sorry, Arianna. Please don’t cry. I only want to keep you safe.” He
kisses the top of my head. I sense that Philip and Hale have moved
closer to us. They reach out to hold onto Maximos’ shoulders. All
of a sudden, the air grows cold, like the inside of a freezer, and
I feel as if I’m spinning like in a teacup saucer ride at Disney.
Yet another childhood dream never realized.

I’m so dizzy. So confused. I decide to give
up—just for a bit. There is nothing I can do right now. The control
my mind has been struggling to hold onto slips away like sand
through fingertips. I let my legs buckle, and the ground beneath me
disappears. I don’t fall, though. I’m still held tight by warm
arms. This must just be a dream.

A dream is what it feels like when I open my
eyes to sunlight filtering through gauzy curtains that surround a
canopy bed. It’s warm, but I can feel a sea breeze, as if I’m
outside by the ocean. I can even hear ocean waves crashing. What? I
sit up. A white silk satin sheet slips down my skin. My naked skin.
Oh no. This is definitely not my bed. Where are my clothes? I take
quick stock of myself; no cuts or aches. Even my wrists are fine.
And I’m clean, very clean. My skin tingles as if I’ve been
thoroughly scrubbed.

I smell like—something flowery and spicy I
can’t quite put my finger on. My skin is soft and moisturized too.
Normally when I wake up, my hair resembles a bird’s nest. But
touching my fingers to my head, I feel silky intricate braids. It’s
a disturbing thought to have no recollection of having been bathed
or dressed. Or in this case, undressed. I also have no memory of
how I got here. The last thing I recall was standing in my front
hall. Maximos had his arms around me, the room started spinning . .
.

I start to panic but try to remember that I’m
unhurt. In fact, by most people’s standards, I’ve likely been
pampered. Even my nails have been buffed. I wrap the sheet about me
like a toga and, pushing the canopy’s curtains aside, I see that I
am practically outside.

The bed is centered atop a travertine floor
that is open on three sides. The fourth, which is behind the bed,
has thick wooden doors that must lead elsewhere. Is this a house or
a hotel? I can see the full-length shutter walls that roll on
tracks have been pushed aside to give me this panoramic view. If I
hadn’t just been kidnapped and awoken naked, I’d think the view was
breathtaking.

I can see that I’m on a cliff. About fifty
yards in front of me, where the grass lawn and palm trees stop,
there is a sharp drop about a mile down toward jagged rocks being
swallowed by crashing waves. Beyond the cliff drop is sparkling
ocean. Where is this place, and how did I get here?

Before I can even ponder my next move, the
doors open behind me. I barely keep my gasp of surprise in check
while I clutch my makeshift toga. A woman enters carrying a heavily
laden tray with silver-domed tops.

“Good morning, Ms. Parker,” she says sweetly
with a Middle Eastern accent that reminds me of Raad’s occasional
lilt. She is wearing a turquoise sari that displays a tanned and
firm stomach. Yet looking at her face, I figure she must be around
sixty.

“Good morning,” I say tentatively, looking
into her warm brown eyes.

“I’ve brought you a wonderful breakfast. The
master hopes you enjoy it,” the woman says. She sets the tray down
on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

“And who is the master?” I ask
cautiously.

“Mr. Vasilliadis, of course. Would you like
your breakfast in bed?” “No, thank you. Where is this place?”

“Well, how about at the table then?” The
woman moves the tray to a small table accompanied by two bamboo
chairs. She’s obviously avoiding my question.

“Excuse me, ma’am, where am I?” The woman
smiles at me warmly.

“I’m Shashandra. And no need to call me
ma’am. It makes me feel old.” She extends her hand toward me with a
wink. I won’t shake it. She is one of them, and I already can tell
she won’t help me. “Don’t be angry, Ms. Parker. The master will
explain everything to you. Let me fetch you a robe,” she says in an
attempt to pacify me. Shashandra walks over to the wooden armoire
and pulls out a white seersucker robe. Without even asking, she
tries to pull the sheet from around me, which I’ve knotted
tightly.

“Excuse me, I can do it myself!” I say. My
voice comes out practically a screech.

“I’m sorry, madam; I was only trying to
help.” I can tell I’ve hurt the woman’s feelings. Well, she
shouldn’t be so presumptuous.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” I say, mollified,
“but can’t you understand my predicament? I just woke up naked in
someone else’s bed.”

“Ms. Parker, I assure you, this is just your
bed. No one else has slept here, except for you,” she says with a
smile. “And if you are concerned for your modesty, I promise I was
the only one who saw you as you are. Last night I gave you a bath
and put you to bed. I just wanted you to be comfortable.” Thank
goodness.

“Ah, thank you,” I say with obvious relief.
Now that I think about it, I actually feel refreshed. It’s
surprising considering all the turmoil of the last twenty-four
hours—or at least what I think has been twenty- four hours . . .
“Shashandra, what time is it?”

“10:00 a.m., mistress. Now, why don’t you
eat? I understand you didn’t have any dinner.”

I eye her warily. She seems kind, but I
remember that she is part of this strange kidnapping conspiracy.
Proudly, she lifts the tops of the dishes and explains the
delicacies revealed: hickory-smoked bacon with peppercorns, a
Gruyère and spinach omelet, sliced mango, a papaya smoothie, and
tea. It looks delicious, and my growling stomach agrees.

“I’ll leave you to break your fast,” says
Shashandra, who gives me a small curtsey and leaves. I don’t hear a
click of a lock. Then again, I suppose I could easily exit with the
majority of the room exposed to the open air. But a man as
meticulous as Maximos isn’t going to let me escape easily. From
what I’ve seen, he probably has a private military stationed
throughout this place. My stomach rumbles. I’m not in imminent
danger, so I might as well eat. I admit it, I’m a glutton.

The food is delicious—cooked to perfection,
with lots of surprising flavor. The cayenne in the omelet gives it
just enough spice, and the cinnamon mixed with papaya in the shake
adds the right dimension. It’s not long before I’ve eaten
everything. Nice control, Ari. Although I’ve had my fill, there is
a lingering hollowness in my stomach. Even after all of that, I
could still eat an entire steak. But isn’t that how I always feel?
One of these days I’m bound to blow up. I decide to sit on the
coral steps that lead down from the bedroom into the grass and
finish off my tea. With cup in hand, I breathe in the salt air and
look out at the rolling waves.

This is a paradise. Only I have no idea where
it is or why I’m here. Deep down, I realize Maximos isn’t going to
hurt me. And I believe that he didn’t take Raad. But the whole
situation is so bizarre it’s hard to wrap my mind around. Maximos’
words, “If I can save him, I will,” echo in my head. Aman Raad is
the kindest person I know. Why would anyone hurt him? Why would
anyone want to hurt me?