Page 20 of The Forgotten Wife

“Hmm.” He felt a modicum of satisfaction for that. He’d be lying if he said he was sorry Mwana’s men had met a hellish end. As for the rebel leader, he’d instructed John Allen to find him, at all costs.

No one got away with threatening what belonged to him.

“Something else on your mind?”

“The intel we gathered indicates the bastard targeted Belle— it wasn’t an opportunistic grab.”

“You think he knew she was your wife?” Alex knew him well, a little too well at times.

The Andreakos wealth meant he and his family were always targets for unscrupulous individuals. What sent alarming tingles down his spine was the piece of info Allen had revealed—the separate sleeping area, suspected to be Mwana’s—where they’d found several pictures of Belle.

“Yes, I think Belle was the sole target, with the other captives taken as collateral.” His fists tightened. “Those men were highly trained. They meant business, Alex. She could’ve been killed.” Anger and residual terror at what could’ve happened coiled in his gut.

“But she wasn’t. And we’ll find this guy and make him pay.

Whatever it takes. For now, you have to reflect on the positives.” He sighed. “Yeah.”

Belle was safe and back where she belonged. He could only be thankful he’d gotten to her—to all of them—in time.

He ended the call and walked to the double French doors. The view from this room never ceased to work its magic on him. The sloping garden planted with plumbago, and sweet-smelling jasmine led down stone steps to pristine white sands lapped by the sea. The blend of greens and blues made the outdoors almost an extension of the room.

From here, he could hear the waves washing onto the shore. The gentle undulation of the sea soothed his chaotic thoughts, as it always did, and shucking off his shoes, he walked barefoot down across the terrace and onto the grass. He breathed in the cleansing air, but his tension didn’t ease.

Belle was back in his life, but it seemed they were farther apart than ever.

Belle enteredthe kitchen a few minutes shy of seven, irresistibly drawn to the delicious aroma ofmoussaka. Rays from the setting sun slanted through the partly painted glass windows, throwing gorgeous coloured patterns on the walls.

She’d hardly touched the light snack she’d been served on the plane, but now her stomach reminded her of its lack of nourishment. It growled in anticipation and remembrance of Demetra’s specialty. As she entered the large, homey kitchen, she squashed the small voice in her mind that hinted she was trying to avoid Nick for as long as possible by staying away from the living room. But she didn’t deny the fact that she’d spent more time than necessary in the shower, revelling in the feel of being washed clean.

Of course, being alone had also meant reliving the hellish events of the past few days. How had Charles Mwana reacted to the loss of his quarry? She’d seen the look in his eyes during their

last conversation. The rabid fascination…the hunger…

No. She refused to think about that…

Pulling in a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she summoned a smile when Demetra looked up.

“Kalispera, KyriaAndreakos.”

“Good evening,” she responded to the lyrical greeting.

“Sit, sit.” Demetra indicated a chair at the large, aged pine table in the middle of the vast space. Belle sat, grateful to get off of her torn and blistered feet and accepted the glass of chilled homemade lemonade the woman set in front of her.

“Efkharisto,” she thanked her and sipped the drink gratefully.

“Moussaka, your favourite, yes?” Demetra prompted in her broken English.

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. It smells lovely.” She rubbed her stomach for emphasis and earned herself a beaming smile.

When Demetra’s gaze shifted beyond Belle’s shoulder, she didn’t need to be told Nick had entered the room. The hairs on her neck had risen in full alert. She sucked in a tremulous breath as he drew near, her senses reacting to his masculine scent. Her pulse leapt as she felt his warmth against her back.

“Not as lovely as you smell.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, his touch causing her senses to spin. “Although I expected you to sleep longer. Why didn’t you ring down for me to come and get you?”

She shrugged, then wished she hadn’t when it only further imprinted the heat of his hands on her naked skin. She’d found the clothes she’d worn during her honeymoon in the exact place she’d left them—why Nick had kept them she had no idea—and the mohair-lined slippers Demetra had supplied cradled her lacerated feet perfectly. “As you can see, there was no need. I’m quite capable of dressing myself and walking on my own two feet.”

“Nevertheless, you shouldn’t put too much stress on your injuries. Some of those cuts are quite deep,” he said imperiously.

“Sure, I’ll bear that in mind.”

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