“Tell me.”
“It’s been so long that I can’t remember.” Which was a lie, he noted inwardly. It had been shortly before Callista’s fatal accident that he had last swum in the Aegean. “Don’t forget to bring a hat and some sunscreen. The sun can be fierce at this time of day, and your skin is very pale.”
…
“So what are you missing in Paris next week?” Kizzy ventured as they bobbed like corks in the sparkling, turquoise sea.
“A key meeting of the Global Roma Rights Committee—I represent Greece there just as often as I can,” he replied. “It’s scheduled as a follow-up to the meeting I missed in London, but a bomb scare stopped that, I’m informed.”
“Yes, it caused chaos didn’t it?” Kizzy commented wryly. “That’s what made me late for our meeting.”
Andreas seemed to drift off into his own little world for a moment. “Isabella never mentioned that.”
“Isabella wasn’t in the mood to listen that day, believe me,” Kizzy replied with a playful grimace. “Sweet revenge for all my annoying phone calls, I guess.”
Andreas raised his eyebrows in silent, ironic agreement. “Yes—Isabella has her difficult moments. And while we’re on the subject, Kizzy, I never did ask why you pretended to be my tyrannical secretary that day in London.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Kizzy said weakly and lowered her eyes to follow the swish of her hand just below the water’s surface. “It—it just came out, the first name that popped into my head.”
Andreas laughed softly. “What’s wrong with good old Kizzy Dean?”
“You were a stranger,” she replied quietly.
Andreas placed his fingertips under her chin and gently pushed her face up to meet his gaze. “I don’t understand.”
Kizzy swallowed. “You’ll think me very peculiar.”
“I won’t,” he insisted. “Tell me.”
She frowned, and then shrugged. “A lot of bad things happened to Mum when I was a baby—she was very vulnerable and learned a lot of hard lessons. One of the things she drummed into me as soon as I was old enough to understand was never trust a stranger. You don’t tell them your age, where you live or even your name, because they might be trying to ‘get’ you.”
Andreas curved the palm of his hand against her cheek as she spoke. He was trying to comfort her with its warmth, to encourage her. And then he realized that everything seemed to feel so much better when he was touching her.
“It’s a hard habit to break—I’m not sure I ever will.”
Andreas eased her gently against his chest so she couldn’t see the look of despair that he could feel ricocheting across his features. “I’m not a stranger anymore, Kizzy, you’re safe,” he murmured, and closed his eyes with the effort of keeping his voice level.
And I’ll take care of you now whatever happens…
Kizzy took a deep breath and pulled away from him, tipping her chin up to convey a steeliness of spirit that he knew she didn’t possess. Andreas was used to discovering what was real and what was not from years in courtroom battles. He could see through charades and artifice—there was always something that gave the game away: a chink in the armor, a look, a gesture, a catch in the voice. And he could tell that Kizzy was trying to keep him at a distance, putting on an act, raising a barrier to protect herself from something—even from him.
She smiled brightly and fixed her eyes upon a distant fishing boat. “Do you find it easy to hand over the reins with your work? Relinquish control?”
Andreas reflected briefly, feeling somehow cheated that she had changed the subject and put them so decisively back on neutral territory. He wouldn’t push it, though. Not right now, at any rate.
“I’m always in control,” he stated, only half playfully. “However, I’m confident that my number two can deal with it all; he seemed enthusiastic when we spoke on the phone earlier.”
“So this committee is how you make so much money?”
“No!” He laughed and pushed his hair back from his brow; thick, black, and glistening from the sea. “I don’t get a cent from all that. The money’s been built up with commercial legal work over the years and some very shrewd property investments over the last decade. Plus some luck on both scores.”
He reached out to wipe away a drop of water that was hanging like a diamond from her earlobe. He’d buy her some nice jewelry, he decided. He knew she’d never ask for it, and she was beautiful enough without adornment, but he wanted so badly to spoil her.
“I owe it to people like Orfeas to put something back in the world now that I have so much.” He ran his fingertips around the fine bones of her jaw. “And to be honest, I’ve needed to keep myself occupied over the last few years.”
“Orfeas is Roma?”
“That’s right.”
“So I’m not the first person with Romany blood to cross your path?”
“You’re not.” He smiled his agreement. “Orfeas saved me from a beating one morning when I was playing football instead of sweeping up donkey droppings. He tipped me off that the boss was coming around the corner, so I had a chance to run away. At the time, he and his brothers were doing their best to scrape an existence out of singing on doorsteps and collecting kitchen scraps to survive.”
“That’s awful,” Kizzy said with undisguised horror. “And they lived like that?”
Andreas shot her a knowing look and a crooked smile. “Orfeas was probably guilty of some petty crime too, but he had little choice. The local school wouldn’t accept Roma children on their registers and no one would give them work—it was hopeless. That discrimination made me sick then and it still does today.”
“Today?”
“Unfortunately, yes, and not just in Greece. The discrimination and xenophobia goes worldwide. Even your own little nation, so lauded for its tolerance, has had its moments of censure from the committee’s reports in the past.”
Kizzy nodded slowly, as though remembering her own experience of that discrimination as a child.
“Which brings me neatly to another matter.” He relished her little gasp as he threaded his arms around her waist. “If you still insist on a job other than being my mistress, then I think there’s something very worthwhile you can do for me.”