The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(9)
She hesitated, then decided to jump right in. “Well, there’s always Nikos. He’s done incredible work for our African Sanctuary for Children orphanage, and he certainly has the business experience. Maybe he could help you with the Kanzi negotiations?” Her brother had developed quite a reputation as an import/export guru.
A vein pulsed in Papa’s temple. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down three times in quick succession. “We need to have a serious talk about Nikos. But let me have my coffee first.”
Nikos’s name was like a wet shroud on any conversation with her father. Her older brother came home for most holidays and her birthday every year, but the rest of the time he traveled the globe for work. She missed him, but every Friday he sent her a photo from wherever he was, and they were in touch regularly about the charity they co-chaired in Kanzi.
The thing she wanted most was a united and happy family, but getting her brother and father to relax in the same room seemed like a pipe dream. Thank goodness for Aegis. He was the glue that held everyone together, each family member vying for time with the beloved pet.
“Is Helena flying in this afternoon?” she asked, changing the subject. Papa’s latest wife, an internationally successful interior designer was the kindest and most age-appropriate companion he’d had in years. Ever since her mother had died twenty-four years ago, when Thea was seven, Christos had been emotionally adrift, working obsessively and in his free time indulging himself in Scotch, sex, and starlets. She’d worried about him, wishing he could find someone who loved him rather than his fortune. Maybe Helena was the answer. She was a thoughtful, sweet woman; Christos had met her while on a cycling trip in France.
He straightened his tie. “Helena would never miss this special celebration. She just had to finish up a project. But enough about me. When are you going to settle down? You can’t be chasing around the world saving people once you’re a mother.”
With her job and travel schedule, she hadn’t had sex, let alone a relationship, in over a year. Immaculate conception was the only way she’d make Christos a grandfather.
Aegis raced to the door and returned with one of Thea’s running shoes in his mouth, tail wagging. Saved by the dog. She laughed. “Message received,” she told the ridgeback.
She turned back to Christos. “Papa, your special day gets you only so much latitude to pry.” She reached into a nearby cabinet to procure the gift-wrapped package she’d hidden there earlier. “Speaking of which, I have something for you.”
His face lit up as he peeled back the edges of the wrapping paper with care, unveiling a humidor embossed with a photo of father and daughter taken when Thea was six. Both of them had cigars in their mouths, hers unlit, and they sported million-dollar smiles. He opened the humidor.
“Sixty of the best cigars in the world, one for every year since you were born.” She’d been working on this project for more than eighteen months, picking up unique cigars in her travels, as they were Papa’s favorite indulgence.
“This is incredible. I don’t know what to say.” His gaze softened, full of love.
“You don’t need to say a thing. Just know that I love you. Let’s have breakfast together after I get back.”
“Not a second past ten, kóre. I want to enjoy breakfast sooner rather than later—and we need to have that talk about Nikos.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” The perpetual feud between her father and brother exhausted her. Maybe the real problem was, the two men were too much alike.
She headed for the door, Aegis rushing past her. Papa used to join her on these runs, but arthritis in his left knee had forced him into taking up cycling and swimming instead. He could still kick her butt in the fifty-meter freestyle, though.
Fueled by caffeine, she planned to sprint the tortuous stairs leading up to the town of Firá in under ten minutes. She glanced at her watch. No, today she’d break nine—give her something additional to celebrate at breakfast.
Outside, the brisk, salty air greeted her. “Morning, Piers.” She hopped over the Aphrodite’s transom. A former Koevoet operative from South Africa, her father’s lead bodyguard was climbing out of the ocean-racing Donzi berthed next to the Aphrodite, his shoulders straightening as she appeared, his weather-beaten face breaking into a grin.
“Morning, Ms. Paris. Wager?”
She could listen to his accent all day. “Double or nothing for under nine minutes.” The two of them made bets on anything and everything, but no one ever paid up.
“You’re on.”
She laughed. For her, he always had warmth in his blue eyes. Perhaps because traveling with Christos meant Piers rarely saw his own daughter.
The crisp December breeze raised goose bumps on Thea’s arms and legs, but she wouldn’t be cold for long. A quick wave to Piers, and she headed for the bottom of the stone stairs leading up to Santorini’s capital, Aegis staying in step with her. She was grateful it wasn’t the middle of summer, when out-of-shape tourists saddled donkeys to climb the cliffside or created endless serpentines along the wharf waiting for the cable car.
At the base of the steps, an old woman wrapped in a tattered blanket huddled in a corner. She’d obviously spent the night outside. Her face was heavily lined, her skin sallow, but her eyes were bright and aware. Aegis sniffed her toes, then rubbed against her legs.