And when she was gone, he wondered why, if the threat of Grigor was gone, he was still so worried about her. If he feared so badly that she would hurt him, why was her absence complete agony?
If all he had wanted from her was a damned business contact, why did he blow off his appointment with Aleksy the next morning and sit in a Paris hotel room all day, staring at sapphire jewelry he’d bought because the blue stones matched her eyes, willing his phone to ring?
* * *
“You’re required to declare funds over ten thousand euros,” the male customs agent in London said to Viveka as they entered a room that was like something off a police procedural drama. There was a plain metal table, two chairs, a wastebasket and a camera mounted in the ceiling. If there was a two-way mirror, she couldn’t see it, but she felt observed all the same.
And exhausted. The charter from the island after Grigor’s funeral had been delayed by weather, forcing her to miss her flight out of Athens. They had rebooked her, but on a crisscross path of whichever flight left soonest in the general direction of London. She hadn’t eaten or slept and was positively miserable.
“I forgot I had it,” she said flatly.
“You forgot you’re carrying twenty-five thousand euros?”
“I was going to put it in the bank in Athens, but I had already missed my connection. I just wanted to get home.”
He looked skeptical. “How did you come by this amount of cash?”
“My sister gave it to me. For my aunt.”
His brows tilted in a way that said, Right.
She sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
She didn’t. She felt like she was going to pass out. “Can I use the loo?”
“No.” Someone knocked and the agent accepted a file, glancing over the contents before looking at her with more interest. “Tell me about Mikolas Petrides.”
“Why?” Her heart tripped just hearing his name. Instantly she was plunged into despair at having broken off with him. When she had left Paris, she had told herself her feelings toward Mikolas were tied up in his protecting her from Grigor, but as the miles between them piled up, she kept thinking of other things: how he’d saved her life. How he’d brought her a life jacket, and said all the right things that night in Athens. How he’d taught her to fight. And make love.
Tears came into her eyes, but now was not the time.
“It looks like you’ve been traveling with him,” the agent said. “That’s an infamous family to truck with.”
“The money has nothing to do with him!” That was a small lie. Once Viveka had spilled to her sister how she had come to be Mikolas’s mistress, Trina had gone straight to her father’s safe and emptied it of the cash Grigor had kept there.
Use this for Hildy. She’s my aunt, too. I don’t want you in his debt.
Viveka had balked, secretly wanting the tie to Mikolas. Trina had accused her of suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Her sister had matured a lot with her marriage and the death of Grigor. She had actually invited Viveka to live with them, but Viveka didn’t want to be in that house, on that island, with newlyweds being tested by Trina’s reversal of fortunes, since Grigor had indeed left Trina a considerable amount of money. Truth be told, Trina and Stephanos had a lot to work through.
So did Viveka. The two weeks with her sister had been enormously rejuvenating, but now it was time to finally, truly, take the wheel on her own life.
“Look.” She sounded as ragged as she felt. “My half sister came into some money through the death of her father. My aunt is in a private facility. It’s expensive. My sister was trying to help. That’s all.”
“Are you sure you didn’t steal the money from Petrides? Because your flight path looks like a rabbit trying to outrun a fox.”
“He wouldn’t care if I did,” she muttered, thinking about how generous he’d always been.
The agent’s brows went up.
“I’m kidding! Don’t involve him.” All that work on his part—a lifetime of building himself into the head of a legitimate enterprise—and she was going to tumble it with one stupid quip? Nice job, Viveka.