Lie With Me / Destiny's Hand

The problem was, his mental recovery seemed to be lagging behind his physical recovery. He couldn’t concentrate. Running his hands through his hair, Roman leaned back in his chair.

Working with his father and eventually running Oliver Enterprises had always been his dream. The company dealt primarily in commercial real-estate development and before his accident, he’d been pouring every spare minute of his time into the project that Stassis, a Greek entrepreneur, had proposed to him. Even though he’d been working with his father almost 24/7 to close a deal for a prime strip of land in Orange County, he’d found time for the Stassis proposal. It involved Oliver Enterprises and Stassis Ltd. acquiring a stake in a select number of small independently operated Greek hotels. They would help them modernize and then share in a percentage of the profits. Within five years, they hoped to own a string of small exclusive hotels throughout the Greek Islands.

If he and Stassis could come to terms, this would be the first time that Oliver Enterprises would be operating outside of the United States. Roman’s goal had been to take the company global for some time, and the project had been his baby. He didn’t just want to run the company his father had founded, he wanted to expand it.

He’d been excited about the project with Gianni Stassis, confident of its success, and now, when it was close to coming together, he couldn’t seem to drum up the same level of enthusiasm he’d had before.

Roman picked up a paperweight, tossed it into the air and caught it. Letting out a frustrated breath, he stifled the urge to throw it at the wall. It wasn’t his damn fall that was to blame for his current situation. It was Philly Angelis.

A month had passed and he couldn’t get her words out of his mind. What had possessed her to walk into his hospital room that day and tell him that she wanted to make love with him?

Before that, he’d been able to convince himself that she was too young, that having her was out of the question. Before she’d spoken those words, he’d been able to find happiness and total satisfaction in his work. He glanced around his office. For as long as he could remember, this was where he’d wanted to be. Now he was restless, having trouble focusing, and nothing he’d tried so far had seemed to help.

His gaze shifted involuntarily to the group of photos he had on his desk. There were various shots of his family and the Angelis family. He’d removed the one snapshot he’d always had there of Philly. Out of sight, out of mind had been his thought.

That hadn’t worked. Staying away from her family’s restaurant hadn’t worked, either. Except for the celebration that Spiro and Helena had thrown when they’d returned from their honeymoon, he hadn’t been to the Poseidon. Philly frequently filled in as hostess, and there was no telling when she might be there. Dammit, he missed it—the laughter, the music, the opportunity to hang out with Kit and his brothers.

Be honest. You miss the chance of running into Philly, too.

It wasn’t as though he could hang out with his sisters, either. Sadie was spending her days with Theo Angelis, and Juliana spent as much time as she could with her fiancé, Paulo Carlucci. Roman went home each night to an empty apartment and tried to bury himself in work that he couldn’t find the same satisfaction in that he did before.

He’d even thought of calling another woman. Though he’d never dated anyone seriously, there were several women who would be more than willing to share drinks or dinner followed by some satisfying and uncomplicated sex. The problem was that he couldn’t work up the enthusiasm for that, either.

The bigger problem was that he couldn’t get Philly’s proposition out of his mind. Nor could he get rid of the image of her standing there—those wide brown eyes, that dark hair. It had curled when she was younger, but now she wore it in one of those sleek, chin-length cuts that made a man want to run his hands through it. There was a passion in her that lurked so near the surface, threatening at any moment to break through. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to be there when it finally did?

Roman glanced at the paperweight again and gave serious thought to throwing it. Or perhaps the better solution to his frustration was to simply take Philly up on her offer. Maybe if he made love to her once, he could get her out of his system. He’d almost convinced himself that that was a reasonable alternative—perhaps the only one—when there was a knock on his door, and Kit Angelis strolled in.

“Long time, no see.”

Roman watched Kit settle himself in a chair and felt like the worst kind of heel. They had been fast friends ever since Kit had also strolled into their dorm room that first day of college. And a month ago, when he’d taken that fall at Saint Peter’s Church and had also fallen under suspicion of murder and kidnapping, Kit and his brothers had worked nonstop to clear his name and protect his family. He owed Kit. He owed Nik and Theo too. And having a one-night stand with their little sister was no way to repay what he owed.

“Nik and Theo and I were thinking that you might have had a relapse, but you look fit enough to me.”

“I am.” Roman willed himself to relax. Kit couldn’t possibly know just what he’d been thinking. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Good. But just the same, I’m here on a search-and-rescue mission. My brothers and I are planning a fishing weekend—men only—at my grandfather’s fishing cabin. We may even talk Dad into joining us. Interested?”

Roman smiled. “Absolutely.” It might be just the ticket to get him back on track. It certainly appealed more than spending the weekend at the office or in his empty apartment. “How are you getting away from your women?” Each of the Angelis brothers now had a special woman in their lives, and from the looks of it, a permanent one. They’d all met their significant others during the weekend when they’d literally saved his family.

“Easy.” Kit shot him a grin. “They have a wedding to shop for. J.C. and Nik are tying the knot on Thanksgiving weekend. According to Drew, that doesn’t give them nearly enough time to register for gifts and decide on flowers.”

It had been so long since he’d dropped in at the Poseidon that Roman hadn’t given much thought to Nik’s upcoming wedding. He didn’t suppose it would be long before Kit would give Drew a ring. And Theo and his sister Sadie would probably follow their lead. He’d never in his life seen men fall so hard and fast as the Angelis men had and all in the space of one weekend.

“When Philly heard about the girls-only shopping weekend, she nearly postponed her trip.”

Every muscle in Roman’s body tightened. “Her trip?”

Kit pointed a finger at him. “See? You really are out of touch. Philly’s going to Greece.”

Roman frowned. “Why?”

“That’s what we all asked her.” Chuckling, Kit leaned back in his chair. “You know the story about how my mom and dad and my aunt Cass and uncle Demetrius met on a beach in Greece and fell in love at first sight?”

Roman nodded. The story had become a sort of legend in the Angelis family. Spiro and Demetrius had left Greece and followed Cass and Penelope back to San Francisco.

“My dad met Helena in Greece, too.”

He’d met her at the five-star restaurant where she’d been the head chef, Roman recalled. Spiro Angelis had persuaded her to come back by promising to open a similar restaurant on the top floor of the more casual Poseidon.

“So Philly has this idea that it’s high time she followed in the family tradition. She’s cut her hair, splurged on a new wardrobe, and she’s off to Greece to find her true love.”

“That’s crazy!” Roman quickly rose to his feet. “Aren’t you going to stop her?”

Kit shot him a quizzical look. “Trying to stop Philly once she’s made up her mind is a bit like trying to stop a runaway train. But you can relax. Aunt Cass has the situation under control. She’s arranged for Philly to stay at a small hotel on Corfu that’s run by my dad’s cousin Miranda Kostas. Philly will be perfectly safe. Helena says that Miranda is a very traditional Greek woman. Her own marriage was even arranged. She’s not likely to let Philly stray too far to the wild side.”

Right, Roman thought as he sat down in his chair. He was overreacting. But in his mind he saw Philly walking up to some handsome Greek and saying, “I want to make love with you.”

2

THE MOMENT I STEPPED OUT of the taxi onto the crunchy white gravel path that wound its way to the Villa Prospero, I knew that I had made the right decision in coming to Greece.

My driver made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “You’ll see the villa as soon as you walk around that curve.”

I tried to be patient as he opened the trunk and began to unload my luggage. Now that I was here, I wanted to get started on the rest of my life—the part that I’d named Post Roman. I’d cut my hair and my brother Kit’s fiancée, Drew, who was a dress designer, had helped me select a new sexy wardrobe. I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror.

I’d also done my homework and discovered that Corfu was believed by many to be the setting of Shakespeare’s The Tempest—hence, the name of Miranda Kostas’s hotel. The island was located off the west coast of Greece on the Ionian Sea.

I’d flown into Corfu Town, which was in the middle of the island across from the mainland of Greece. To reach the Villa Prospero, I’d hired a driver to take me to the other side of the island where the rugged coastline bordered the Ionian Sea.

My driver was an endless source of information, most of it gossip about the Castello Corli, which sat atop a cliff about two miles away from the Villa Prospero. Venetians had built the castle in the fourteenth century—thus, the Italian name. Below the fortresslike walls, there were a series of caves that were reputed to have been used by smugglers for hundreds of years. However, according to my very talkative driver, what the Castello Corli was famous for now were the extravagant biannual parties that its billionaire owner, Andre Magellan, threw. One of his famous soirees was due to take place in three days.

“You may actually meet some movie stars walking along the beach,” my mustachioed driver had said to me. “Or a member of royalty. When Andre Magellan throws one of his parties, the Castello Corli becomes a destination for the rich and the famous.”

Magellan’s family had supposedly been bankers in Rome for centuries. But local rumor had it that Andre was a spoiled playboy who expended all of his energy on living an opulent lifestyle and only visited his family’s banks to make withdrawals.

By the time my driver had unloaded my luggage and I’d paid him, thanking him again for a very informative ride, I was itching to get to the villa and begin my Grecian adventure. I hurried along the narrow lane, then stopped short as soon as I went around that first curve. Just as the driver had promised, the Villa Prospero had come into view to my right. Color was everywhere—from the ivy and roses that draped over pink stucco to the riot of flowers that edged the path to the front of the small hotel.

The building itself was two-storied and tucked into a hillside. Parked right in front of the entrance was a sporty red convertible. The terrain to my left was rugged, thick with cypresses and fell away steeply. Through the trees, I spotted a serpentine trail that wound its way to a brilliant expanse of turquoise-blue sea. As colorful as the villa was, it was the sea that pulled at me.

I stood for a moment torn between following my impulse to take that winding path down to the beach and checking in with my cousin Miranda. In the end, family obligation won. After all, she was expecting me. I couldn’t let her worry.

The ground floor was bordered by a wide terrace with several porticoes opening into the lobby. I crossed to one of them. At first I thought the lobby was deserted; there was no one behind the small reception desk. But then I heard the angry voice.

“I demand to speak with your son Alexi.”

“He’s not here right now, Mr. Magellan.”

Peeking through the open portico, I could see two figures to my right. I recognized my cousin Miranda from the photos Helena had shown me. Her voice was calm, pleasant, professional, but the tension in her body contrasted sharply with her tone. Miranda had the kind of face that medieval artists had captured in their portrayals of the Madonna. She wore a tailored white blouse, a black skirt and sensible shoes. Her hair was pulled back in a ballerina’s knot and gold hoops winked at her ears. She was average height, but the way Mr. Magellan was towering over her made her seem tiny.

I had no doubt that I was also getting an up-close-and-personal view of the rich, flamboyant playboy that my driver had described to me in such great detail. Magellan’s red print shirt and matching red slacks were made even more dramatic by the way he stood in front of my cousin, his hands fisted at his sides. Diamonds glittered from his watch and a ring on his pinkie.

“Of course he’s not here. Even as we speak, he’s probably trespassing on my land again. It has to stop. I’ve warned him more than once. And I don’t want him poking around in the caves, either. They’re dangerous—that’s why they’re posted. I should think as his mother, you’d see to it that he doesn’t go there.”

“You don’t understand. One of Alexi’s cats is missing—Caliban. Alexi just wants to—”

“I don’t give a damn about his cats or his fixation on them.” Magellan’s voice had grown shrill with temper. “I’ve warned him. If either of those cats are seen anywhere on the grounds of the Castello Corli, my men have orders to shoot them.”

“No, please, don’t hurt them.” Miranda pressed a hand to her chest. “I’ll speak to Alexi.”

“I’m filing a complaint with the police. If your son trespasses one more time, I’ll have him arrested.”

Anger flared inside me at the callous way he spoke of Alexi and the cats. I knew from Helena and my dad that my cousin Alexi was eighteen and had always been a bit slow in school. But since his father had died three years ago, he’d become quite good at helping his mother run the hotel.

Fueled by my temper, I was about to move into the lobby and give Mr. Andre Magellan a piece of my mind when he whirled and strode out through the main entrance. He vaulted over the door into the sporty red car. An instant later, tires squealed and gravel sprayed as he raced away.

The lobby was empty when I turned back. To my left, doors opened onto a sunny terrace where lunch was being served, and every table was filled. Helena had raved about the cuisine at the Villa Prospero, and it seemed that the current guests were in agreement. Miranda was now serving dishes from a loaded tray. I hated to interrupt her, so I wandered around the large, airy room. There was a small gift shop that opened off the lobby, and through its open door I caught a glimpse of glass cases as well as racks of T-shirts and wide-brimmed hats.

A young woman entered from yet another door. She, too, carried a loaded tray. The moment she saw me she paused and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Her English was heavily accented, but she meant what she said. She returned to the lobby just as soon as she’d served a table of four.

“Sorry. You have a reservation?”

“I believe so. I’m Philly Angelis.” Her name tag said that she was Demetria.

“Oh, Ms. Angelis.” A smile warmed her whole face. “Welcome to the Villa Prospero. Mrs. Kostas is expecting you.

Over her shoulder, I could see Miranda chatting with the guests at a table for two as she cleared plates and cups.

“I’ll get her,” Demetria said.

“No, I can see she’s busy. And you’re busy, too. Why don’t I just leave my luggage here and go for a walk until things settle a bit.”

Relief swam in her eyes. “Are you sure? We’re shorthanded today because Alexi hasn’t shown up yet.”

I smiled at the young girl. “I’m positive. The sea is calling me. I thought I saw a path down to the beach.”

“Yes. Just go to the end of the gravel drive and turn right.”

With a final smile, I turned and after stopping briefly to get my camera out of my suitcase, I hurried out of the lobby. I believed in following my impulses, and something was pulling me to the beach, in much the same way that something had drawn me to Greece.

Of course, sometimes my acting on impulse had gotten me into trouble. A prime example was the day Roman had saved me from drowning. I was sixteen and decided I had to go for a sail. Right then. It had been a boring, rainy day at my grandfather’s fishing cabin. My brothers and Roman and my dad had been whiling away the hours with a game of poker. Roman had been winning, of course. The moment the sun had come out, I’d announced my intention to take Nik’s boat out. Then I’d hurried down to the dock before anyone could object.

I’d wanted to sail alone, but Roman followed and asked if he could join me.

Before that, I’d always thought of Roman as just an additional brother, but everything changed once the storm came up. It was so sudden and so severe that the boat had capsized almost immediately. Once in the water, I’d felt a huge wave pick me up and toss me. I’d barely had time to catch a breath before I was pulled under. Dizzy and disoriented, I wasn’t sure which way to swim to get to the surface. Panic had streamed through me, and I’d felt my lungs begin to burn. Then a pair of strong hands had gripped me, and seconds later Roman and I broke the surface. The water was rough and another wave had crashed over us. When we’d surfaced again, his voice had been calm as he told me to put my arms around his neck and lie on top of his back. I did, and he’d struck out toward shore. Though waves had tossed us and dragged us both under several times before we finally reached the beach, I’d never once doubted that we would both make it.

When I felt the now-familiar band of pain tighten around my heart, I stopped in my tracks and swore under my breath. I had not come to Greece to think about Roman Oliver. I had come to solve my “Roman problem” once and for all. And I would. I knew it in the same way that I often “knew” things about the animals I worked with.

The path to the sea was narrow and sloped gently as it zigged and zagged its way down the steep hill. I’d only been walking for a short time before I realized that it was going to take a while to reach my destination. I was tempted to just forget the path and strike out on a more direct route through the trees. But it wouldn’t do to get lost on my first day in Corfu.

Then I rounded a sharp corner and caught sight of a wide, crescent-shaped beach and the vast stretch of the crystalline blue Ionian Sea. There was no sound other than the breeze rustling through the trees and the distant push of waves against rocks.

I raised my camera and focused the lens. The deserted stretch of white sand was tucked snugly between two rocky promontories that stretched far out into the water. Waves broke frothy and white against the rocks. I took a few shots. Beyond the far promontory, the terrain changed abruptly from wooded hillside to a cliff face of solid rock that shot straight up to form a fortress wall and two towers. It had to be the Castello Corli.

As I snapped more photos, I felt transported to a much earlier time, and I thought fancifully of the castle that Princess Aurora slept in for one hundred years after she’d pricked her finger. Because of its location between Italy and the Greek mainland, Corfu had always had strategic importance. I recalled what my driver had said about the Castello Corli being built in the fourteenth century when the Venetians had ruled the island, and I could see the Italian influence in the design of the towers. My driver had said that the estate’s current villa dated from the turn of the century and had been renovated ten years ago by Andre Magellan’s parents, and then presented to him on his birthday. I zoomed in with my telephoto lens, but even then, I could see nothing past the towers.

Suddenly my attention was caught by a large white bird that flew out of one of the towers and soared upward in wide circles. I had no idea what its species was, but an odd mix of fear and excitement moved through me. Perhaps I was still being influenced by the enchanted appearance of the Castello, but the white bird made me think of the numerous calls to adventure that populated so many fairy tales.

Silly, I said to myself. But I knew better. Hadn’t I known all along that I was meant to come to Greece? More than ever I was convinced that the Fates had brought me here.

Once the bird had disappeared inland, I lowered my camera and continued to follow the frustrating, snakelike path. Gradually, the vegetation thinned. Cypresses and pines were replaced by boulders and rocks. As I rounded yet another sharp curve, I caught another glimpse of the crescent-shaped beach. It was no longer deserted. There were two men standing near the far promontory near the Castello.

Curious, I raised my camera and focused the lens. It was only as I zoomed in that I spotted the cat. It was so pale in color that it nearly blended into the white sand, and it was circling the two men. Not happy, I thought. And female. The cat had to be seriously agitated for me to be able to sense so much over such a distance. She reminded me a bit of Pretzels. What was the source of her worry?

I shifted my attention back to the two men. They were deep in conversation, and from the gestures the younger man was making, it appeared to be a heated one. He looked to be in his late teens. The older man pointed to the cell phone he had in his hand. Both men were of medium height and wearing sunglasses and shorts, and both carried backpacks, but that’s where the resemblance stopped. The older man had a more portly build. He wore a T-shirt, hiking boots and a wide-brimmed hat that cast his face in shadow. A pair of binoculars was slung over one shoulder.

He turned and took a few steps in my direction, but the other man grabbed his arm and stopped him. The younger man had an athletically toned body, and sun glinted off a medal he wore around his neck.

The cat was circling them now, growing more agitated. The younger man squatted, and when she went to him, he stroked her. But she backed away. It wasn’t soothing that she was after.

The man in the hat was hurrying along the beach now in my direction. The other man rose, ran after him, then grabbed his arm and jerked him around. The argument escalated, and suddenly, the younger man shoved the older man to the ground. When he fell, he missed the cat by inches.

Concern for the animal filled me, and lowering my camera, I gave up on the path and began to make my way down the rugged hillside in a more direct route to the beach. By the time I reached it, my view of the two men and the cat was blocked by the rocks that bordered the little cove on the Villa Prospero’s side.

I felt the cat before she appeared around a boulder. Her emotions slammed into me with enough force to stop me in my tracks. The agitation I’d sensed earlier in her had given way to terror, urgency. In my head I saw a bright red color. I squatted, tried to calm my mind and waited for her to come to me. She did, pausing when she was only a few feet away.

Slowly, I held out my hand. I’m Philly. I’m a friend.

Most often when I communicated with animals, I did it mentally. I thought what I wanted them to know—sometimes in words, other times in images, depending on the initial way the animal communicated with me.

She was a beauty—nearly pure white, and her eyes a pearly mix of gray and green. Without coming any closer, she studied me in much the same way I was studying her. The emotions rolling through her were chaotic, and I couldn’t get a clear image.

What’s your name?

Ariel.

I’d heard the word in my mind as clearly as if she’d said it aloud. With a name like Ariel, I bet she was one of Alexi’s cats. I recalled Miranda had mentioned the name of the other—the one that was missing. Caliban.

Help.

This time I caught an image. A white cat lying still in a shadowy place. Bigger than Ariel, I thought. I caught the gleam of his eyes before everything went red.

Ariel turned and raced back toward the boulders.

When she paused to glance back, I was already on my feet and heading after her. She had an easier time of climbing down the rocks than I did. After slipping for the second time, I thought, Slow down.

Ariel paused and waited for me. The moment I joined her, she began to run again, and I followed her lead. I was beginning to feel the same overpowering sense of urgency and fear that I was getting from her. The two men who’d been with her at the far end of the beach were gone. It wasn’t until I reached the center of the crescent that I realized I was wrong. One of them was still there—lying on the sand. I broke into a sprint.

I was out of breath when I finally reached the man. As I dropped to my knees, my mind registered details. He was the older of the two men I’d seen. His wide-brimmed hat had fallen off, and he was lying faceup, the backpack and binoculars at his side. But my eyes were riveted to the hole in the side of his head, and the large red stain on the white sand. My heart was racing and not from the run. I wasn’t a forensic scientist, but it looked like a bullet hole to me. Wouldn’t I have heard the shot?

My stomach was in free fall, my hand shaking as I did what I’d seen people do on countless TV shows. I put two fingers to the side of his neck and felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

I felt myself going numb. When an insect hummed past my cheek, I brushed at it absently. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ariel, standing, watching me. Waiting. Worrying.

Help.

This was no time to go numb. I can’t help him. He’s dead.

Once again an image flashed into my mind—the white cat. There were fewer shadows this time because of dappled sunlight, so I caught more details. Next to the cat was what appeared to be the remains of a small animal. A bird? And I made out a puddle of water. Even as the image faded, questions poured into my mind. What was Ariel trying to tell me? Was the other cat the one that was missing? And what was her relationship to the dead man? Had she witnessed what had happened to him? Where was the younger man who’d stroked her and shoved this man to the ground?

The list of questions would have gone on if I hadn’t heard another insect hum by. This time I also heard a ping and I glanced in the direction of a nearby boulder. Then I heard yet another hum and saw sand erupt inches away from Ariel.

Shock threatened to numb me again. Someone was shooting at us. He had to be using a silencer. That was why I hadn’t heard a shot.

Run.

Ariel took off first, racing toward the foot of the hill. A second later she’d leaped across rocks and disappeared into the trees. I was about three beats behind her and not quite as fleet of foot. But that gave me time to spot the flash of reflected sunlight from the woods bordering the Castello Corli.

Ariel! Wait. I scrambled over the rocks and raced after her into the cypresses.

CASS ANGELIS STOPPED pacing the moment the knock sounded on her door. When she opened it and saw Kit, some of her tension eased.

He hugged her soundly, then moved to the tea tray she’d set up near the couches. He never drank the tea, but he’d already popped one of the finger sandwiches into his mouth. “Mission accomplished,” he mumbled around it. “Roman’s plane should be touching down in Corfu Town as we speak.”

“Good.”

He glanced at Cass, studying her for a moment. Then he sat down on one of the couches and gestured for her to join him. “Everything’s going just the way we planned. Philly’s in Corfu, and Roman has followed her. What’s worrying you?”

Of all of her nephews, Kit was the one who could always read her the most clearly. She sat next to him and picked up one of her crystals. “This morning I was out at the pond.” Kit knew that she usually went there at sunrise—visions often formed for her in the water. “I saw more—Philly and Roman standing on white sand and there was a castle in the distance. I saw a white cat, and there was blood on the sand. It’s the second time I’ve seen blood.”

Kit frowned. “Philly’s or Roman’s?”

Cass shook her head. “No. But they’re headed into danger. I sensed that before. And that cat—if there’s an animal in the middle of it, your sister is going to get involved.”

Kit took one of her hands. “Maybe an adventure is just what the two of them need. Look at Nik and J.C., Theo and Sadie, Drew and me—we were all in a lot of danger the weekend we fell in love. You keep reading the crystals, and I’ll keep in touch with Roman. If things get serious, I’ll go over and give them some backup.”

Cass smiled at her nephew. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

He leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “Funny—you have the same effect on me.” Then he grabbed another sandwich. “Mason said to give you his best.”

Cass’s heart skipped a beat. “You saw him?”

“He was at the Poseidon last night. I think he was hoping to run into you.”

Cass felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She’d been attending a fund-raiser for the mayor with Charlie Galvin.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to decide between those two men.”

“I can’t. I can see that Roman and Philly are meant to be together. And I knew the moment I saw Demetrius that he was the one for me. But with Charlie and Mason, I can’t tell—I like them both. They’re very different. Charlie is so outgoing while Mason is reserved. Philly says to give it time and I’ll know. But maybe I’m not meant to be with either of them.”