CHAPTER FOUR
ANYQUESTIONS?
Two and a half days later, Grace wondered how it was that with so many questions, she had managed to ask precious few.
Caught on the back foot, she had gaped at him in astounded silence while he had filled the yawning space with a detailed explanation of why, exactly, he needed her there.
The deals that were coming to fruition, the due diligence needed on several takeovers, and she had to be at ground zero to handle the paperwork because the damned lawyers were prone to chopping and changing...not to mention the running of the family business, with difficulties cropping up because of supply-chain issues. And then there would be some business stuff of his uncle’s to sort out. Nothing much, but it would still have to be done. He couldn’t do any of that without her, he had concluded in a voice that had left her in no doubt that a negative response would not be countenanced.
She had thought of Tommy and demanded to know just how long the trip would last.
‘Why?’ Nico had queried, eyebrows raised. ‘Have you got unavoidable plans if it takes five days instead of four?’
‘Are you saying we’ll be away for four days?’
‘I’m saying,’ he had responded in an inflexible voice, the voice of the boss who paid the bills, ‘that we’ll be away for just as long as it takes to conclude this business. My father would have gone himself but he is in no place to leave my mother convalescing on her own. The burden falls to me, and you’ll be coming because you work for me and I need to carry on working over there.’
Nico had never mentioned an uncle. Why would he? Grace supposed. It was none of her business. But what was his uncle doing out in the Bahamas? Why wasn’t he part of the family business either in Greece or here in London?
Nico hadn’t volunteered an explanation but he had softened enough to ask, ‘Why are you concerned about the length of time we’ll be gone? I can guarantee that it won’t be longer than five days. I have no desire to be out of London for any longer. If I’m honest, I could do without this intrusion into my working schedule, but needs must.’
He’d shrugged and when his dark eyes had rested on her face she’d seen him thinking,Why so concerned about how long this will take?
‘Has another Mr Internet stepped into the picture?’ he’d asked silkily and Grace had glared at him, which had given him his answer without him having to ask further. She realised how effective that had been on shutting the conversation down and making sure she didn’t ask any more questions.
The following day, she had duly booked the flights and he had texted to tell her that there was no need for a hotel. Flights sorted, he would deal with the rest of the details. She should just get her things together and he would ensure all the necessary protocol to get her to him on the Monday evening.
So here she was now, after an uneventful and comfortable trip to Nassau.
The seat-belt sign was going on and the captain was interrupting the film she had been watching to tell them how close they were to landing and what the weather was doing and what the local time was.
It had been a long time since Grace had been on a plane. A long time since she had had any real holiday to speak of. Ibiza with three friends five years ago felt like a lifetime away. Since then, her money had been directed at all the costly expenditure associated with looking after her brother, the buying of the house, the tailoring of the space to suit his needs and of course the private therapy sessions. None of it came cheap and while her own life had largely been on hold, the prospect of going anywhere abroad on a holiday had been vanishingly slim.
Ever since Nico had left her in the office, leaving behind him a state of low-level panic at this departure from her prized comfort zone, she had been busy fretting. Fretting about the fact that she would be with him in such different surroundings. Fretting about how that was going to feel. Fretting about the clothes to be packed, about an itinerary she couldn’t quite manage to work out. There would be no comforting office environment in which to feel safe. The barriers between them had already taken a bit of a knock and this drastic change to the normal routine made her feel uneasy and apprehensive.
Now, though, as she snapped shut the seat belt and gazed down out of the window, she was infused with a bubble of excitement.
The plane dipped and she was offered a view of lush green set against a backdrop of startling aquamarine. Trees and mountains rising from an ocean of tranquil turquoise and, even from dizzying heights, the water was such a dazzling blue that it took her breath away.
Nico had told her that her only responsibility was to book the flight for them both.
She’d assumed that he had contacts on the island. If his uncle had lived there, for whatever reason, then he would probably know people, people who would be able to arrange accommodation for them far more satisfactorily than she could.
As the plane rolled to a stop, slowly positioning itself in front of the airport terminal, she wondered what this accommodation was going to look like.
Who was going to meet her at the airport? Would Nico be there? The thought of him made her heart beat a little faster.
The heat struck her with force as she stepped out of the plane. This wasn’t the polite summer sun she had left behind in London. This was tropical heat, still and fierce and smelling different somehow. She breathed in and that bubble of excitement swelled a little bit more and she had to sternly remind herself that this wasn’t a holiday. This was about work.
She was wearing a pair of light cotton trousers and a loose linen shirt. Within seconds of being in the blasting heat, a couple of minutes out in the open between the plane and the airport, she could feel herself perspiring. It was joyful to be inside the cold terminal. Not knowing quite what to expect, she was surprised when she was ushered through a fast lane to exit immigration and security in record time. She’d brought one bag into which she had crammed her usual summer wardrobe of light suits along with a couple of summery dresses and some sandals. Work-ready gear for a tropical island. She was already beginning to suspect that her choices might not have been the most sensible, given the weather.
There was no Nico waiting for her but instead a young, smiling man in a uniform of Bermuda shorts and an open-necked shirt who leapt towards her, flashing identification and a personal letter from Nico explaining that he couldn’t make it to the airport, but giving her details of her onward journey.
It was all a blur. Grace was tired yet energised at the same time. Outside the airport, the noises and the sounds and the sights were all so unfamiliar that she could have been on another planet. Everything was in Technicolour, the shimmering tarmac of the road against the brightest of lush green of trees and bushes and weeds and flowers growing in abundance wherever a spot of earth could hold a root. Cars came and went, as did people, coming and leaving, pulling bags and hugging and saying goodbye, a riot of activity against a backdrop of tropical splendour.
She gaped. Where were they going? Where would she be staying?
Not here, not on the main island. She discovered that soon enough because as they walked Curtis told her that he would be taking her to a private airfield, where she would get an island hopper that would take her to one of the smaller islands.