Hostage to Love

He entered his study, ushered her in, and shut the door behind them.

“We’ll call your parents first, then I’ll speak to Spiros—”

They both froze as the phone rang. With quick strides, he walked over to his desk and snatched it up.

“Andreakos.” The greeting sounded like a swear word, and she winced with sympathy for the caller. “Yes, she’s right here,” his voice softened. “Hold on.”

Nick lowered the phone. “He beat us to it. It’s your father. He wants to speak to both of us,” he said, taking her arm when she reached the desk. He sat down and then settled her into his lap.

“Go ahead, Jon, you’re on speaker.” His warm breath brushed her ear, causing a frisson of awareness to tingle down her spine. She started guiltily when her father spoke.

“Belle, are you there? Have you seen the news? Is what they’re saying true?” The shock and worry in his voice cut straight to her heart.

Nick’s hand flexed at her waist, and she had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Yes, Dad, I’m here. I’m sorry you had to find out that way, but yes…it’s true.”

“What? Dear girl, when Nick told us he was bringing you home, we thought you’d been unwell on your holiday. We had no idea this was what had happened. Why didn’t you tell us? Either of you?” His voice was gruff. Her heart sank, and she wished for the umpteenth time she had the power to turn back the clock two weeks—no, six months.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I…”

“It was my fault, Jon. I didn’t want to worry you and Annette,” Nick slid in smoothly, his hand tightening around her.

“Be that as it may, we would’ve preferred to have been told. We’re not children to be cosseted! Is what they’re saying true, Belle? That you were tortured?”

She heard a break in his voice. A muffled sound, much like a sob, came through the speaker, she guessed from her mother.

“Listen to me, Dad, Mum. Yes, I was captured, but I was absolutely not tortured, I promise you that. As I told you when we spoke yesterday, I’m fine. The papers are grossly exaggerating.” She tried to project as much reassurance into her voice as possible.

“But how can it be exaggeration?” he asked, perplexed. “According to the Dutch couple on the TV now, you were held for almost a week.”

Her eyes widened. She glanced at Nick and found the same surprise reflected on his face. Grabbing the remote control on his desk, he turned on the TV.

And there on the screen, on channel after channel, were the images of Hendrik and Edda, the Dutch couple, sobbing as they told the story of their capture. Too shocked to speak, she just stared at the screen.

“Hello, are you still there?” her father asked.

“We’re here, Jon,” Nick replied. “But can we call you back?”

“Well, Annette and I were hoping to find out more—”

“We’ll fill you in, later. But in the meantime please, rest assured, whatever happened, Belle’s fine now, okay?”

“Okay, son. But before you go, can either of you tell me if you know a man named Richard Francis?”

They both tensed. “Why do you ask?” Nick asked.

“Well, he’s been calling incessantly, wanting to know your whereabouts, Belle—”

“When was the last time he called?” Nick cut across him.

There was a muffled sound as Jon spoke to his wife. “About an hour ago.”

Belle gasped, but Nick shot her a warning glance. She tried to breathe evenly as her father continued. “He won’t tell me what it’s about, but he claims to be from the Daily Bugle. What surprises me is how he got our unlisted number. Only a handful of people have it.”

Nick exchanged glances with her, his face hard and resolute. “It’s probably nothing, but I’m going to get my security chief to give you a call. The authorities will probably want to talk to this man, find out why he wants to contact Belle. And, we may also need for you to agree to have your phone calls traced. Are you okay with that?”

“I—yes, I suppose. Look, tell me straight, son. Is my girl in danger?”

Belle’s heart squeezed at the pain in her father’s voice. “Not if I can help it, Jon. I’d die before I let anything happen to her.” Nick answered, his gaze holding hers in a solemn promise.