Caught Beneath the Mistletoe

Chapter One

Bria! Bria! Look this way!

Dozens of voices followed, the words overlapping until they became a persistent whining buzz. Just like the mosquitoes they were named for. Brialena Carpenter cringed against the back of her wheelchair at the sudden vicious onslaught. The paparazzi hadn’t shown any interest in her since the divorce.

Hiding behind her dark glasses and trying to block the shouts as a nurse wheeled her toward a waiting car, she focused on what she needed to do when she got home. But fragments of their questions pelted her, jolting her back to a place she wanted to forget.

...surgery...  ...your leg... ...dance again?

At those last two words, her eyes snapped shut as pain raged through her. Would she dance again?

Would she?

Please, let me dance.

The wheelchair jerked to a sudden halt, and Bria opened her eyes. The photographers and reporters—still shouting—had surrounded them, blocking her exit. She could no longer even see the car.

Panic engulfed her as two security guards from the hospital tried to force the swarm back, but to no avail. Stinging flashes of light came at her, penetrating the cocooning safety of her sunglasses.

No, she whispered. This couldn’t be happening. Not on top of everything else. She pressed her hands over her lenses in an attempt to block out the flashbulbs.

The wheelchair moved and relief swamped her. She looked up, and the sudden absence of bodies in front of her made her almost giddy. Until the door to a black limousine opened and long, elegant, Armani-encased legs emerged. For a long second she forgot to breathe.

That was why the reporters were suddenly interested in her after all these months.

She’d once faced almost the exact same scene. With the exact same man.

Her mouth popped open, and she blinked, but the nightmare returned—something far worse than the marauding paparazzi whose voices faded into nothingness as she stared at the man in front of her. Thick black hair competed with even blacker eyes, eyes which now shone down at her in grim amusement.

Though your mouth in its present state brings back some delightful memories, you might consider closing it.

Heat washed up her face, and she snapped her jaws shut, only to have to open them again. Niko, what are you...

He reached down and removed her sunglasses, pocketing them before she had a chance to protest. The click of multiple cameras went off at the action, but this time, they barely penetrated the harsh reality before her.

Yes, Brialena. It’s me. Surprised? He nodded over her head. Unless you want to be overrun again, I suggest you get into the car.

No. Even if she could physically hoist herself to her feet, there was no way she’d spend five minutes in his presence, let alone the half hour it would take to reach her apartment. Maybe she should ask the nurse to turn around and wheel her back inside the hospital.

What did he want?

Her fingers curled around the armrests of the wheelchair as if he might reach down and snatch her loose, forcing her to do what he asked. Ridiculous.

Niko had never forced her to do anything. Except make a devastating choice.

The choreographer for New York’s Park City Ballet caught up to them, hauling Bria’s overnight bag behind him. He put his hand on her shoulder, looking down at her with concern. You okay? You look kind of pale. Glancing at the reporters, now under the control of the guards, he grimaced. I thought I’d lost you for a minute.

She gave a stiff nod at her dear friend, deciding it was better to ignore Niko altogether. Once he left, so would the marauding reporters. Where did you park?

If she could just get away, she could regain her composure. She was almost sure of it.

Park? I thought... he glanced at Niko and then back down at her. Your husband said...

Her husband.

Her lips tightened. How dare Niko waltz into her life and try to take over.

I’d rather go with you. She kept her eyes on Gordon and off her ex-husband.

I...well...

Alarm swamped her. Things were rapidly spinning out of control. You didn’t come to pick me up?

Niko interrupted. I gave Mr. Hoffman a ride to the hospital. It seemed more convenient than driving separate vehicles.

She frowned up at him. You went to the dance studio? She’d once welcomed his invading presence in every area of her life. Not anymore. Her ballet company was sacred ground in her mind. And Niko was definitely not welcome there.

Actually, Gordon said, interrupting her thoughts, I need to get back to rehearsal before the troupe makes a complete mishmash of the finale.

When he glanced down at Bria, he evidently realized something was wrong, because he paused. I can stay if you need me to—

No. As much as she hated giving in to Niko’s high-handed tactics, she would hate it even more if she interfered with her friend’s job. He’d stuck close ever since she’d taken the tumble, spending countless hours away from the studio. She didn’t have the right to ask anything more of him. It’s okay. Niko can get me home just as easily.

She forced herself to smile. Give everyone my love, okay?

Are you sure?

An irritated sigh behind her reminded her that the nurse was still waiting to be relieved of her charge.

Yes. Her eyes darted to the car and then back to the safety of her friend. If you could just help me into...

Before anyone could move, Niko scooped her up in his arms, carefully accommodating the metal cage surrounding her lower leg. She stiffened as the remembered scents of teak oil and spicy aftershave drifted her way, but unless she wanted to give the reporters something bigger than a possible reunion story, it was better to just let things play out as they were. She could pretend he didn’t affect her. She’d done it before.

She swallowed. And he’d fallen for the act without hesitation. Had probably been relieved by it.

She waved at Gordon and gave a lighthearted laugh. Go. I’ll be fine. She looped her arms around Niko’s neck to emphasize the carefree effect.

Big mistake. The warmth of her ex’s skin penetrated her fingertips and she had to force them not to slide deep into the hair at his nape.

When Gordon nodded and left to hail a taxi, she gritted her teeth, not allowing herself to call him back. She didn’t want him—or anyone else—to know that her secret fear had just come back to haunt her: that some remnant of old feelings remained intact beneath the bitterness. So, she stood there and clutched Niko’s neck, pretending her heart wasn’t stuttering in her chest.

As if on cue, the nurse also abandoned her, spinning the wheelchair to the right and plunging back through the still shouting reporters. She was alone.

With Niko.

He said nothing further as he situated her on the leather seat of the limo and nudged the door closed. She struggled to latch her seatbelt before he made it to the other side of the vehicle. It clicked shut and she breathed a prayer of thanks. Niko climbed in and slid to the center portion of the seat without a word.

Bria swallowed. Forced her mind to find a plausible explanation for his sudden reappearance in her life.

Why are you here, Niko? She tried to ignore his hands as he gently lifted her damaged leg and settled it across his hard thighs. Her throat clogged with emotion at his tenderness. How like old times it seemed. If their relationship hadn’t ended with Bria hurling accusations at him like a banshee and Niko slamming out of the house and out of her life, it might have been easy to believe he still loved her. That they were still happily married.

But they weren’t. And there was no going back. For either of them. Too much anger and resentment had passed between them.

She fiddled with her seatbelt strap and tried to find her equilibrium. Why, Niko? she repeated.

He leaned back against his seat and turned his head toward her. Because I have something you need.

Puzzled, she stared at him, trying to ignore the firm slash of his mouth and the remembered pleasure it had once brought. She shivered and forced her mind away. He had nothing she needed.

Nothing.

Besides, he’d crated all of her belongings and sent them to New York on one of his huge transport ships months ago. She didn’t remember anything being missing. Not even the snowy wedding quilt his grandmother had stitched for their marriage ceremony. So many memories. She took a deep breath. You left something out of the shipping container?

No.

Then what?

Niko pressed a button on the roof of the limo and spoke a few words in Greek. Bria understood enough to know he was telling the driver to be on his way.

The limo immediately pulled into traffic, and Bria’s nerves tightened further. Maybe she should have asked why he was here before she got into the vehicle.

She was being foolish. Her ex-husband might be a lot of things, but a kidnapper was not one of them.

He touched one of the bars holding the shattered pieces of her bones in place before sliding his palm down the long length of metal that traveled from her upper shin to her ankle. He didn’t touch her skin, but the gesture seemed unbearably intimate.

His eyes came up to meet hers. Does it hurt much?

Something in his voice made her wonder if he was talking about the apparatus or their separation. She licked her lips, not sure how to answer.

He’d love it if he knew how close he’d come to destroying her when he’d walked out during what should have been the happiest moment of her life: her invitation to join the Park City Ballet. Yes. He’d hurt her tremendously. But then, he knew that already.

She decided to fake indifference.

Shrugging, she said, It’s something I’ve learned to deal with. She pushed the hem of her peasant skirt further down her leg, forcing his hands from their perch.

His eyes hardened, seeming to confirm her suspicions. He’d wanted to destroy her that day. How disappointed he must be that she’d gone on to brilliant success after he’d left.

You said you have something I need. What is it?

I want you to come back to Piraeus.

Her breath caught. Come back? The Greek port had once been their home. She’d loved it there.

He nodded at her leg. You need time to heal.

I need physical therapy, Niko. I plan to go back to work if at all possible.

His shoulder hitched up in an irritable shrug. We have therapists in Piraeus and in Athens. We are not as backward as you once made us out to be.

As she once made them out to be...

"I never said Piraeus was backward."

Not in so many words, no. And yet the ballet company in Athens wasn’t good enough for you. You insisted on coming to New York.

They were back to the same old argument. It’s not that the Athens company wasn’t good. They were excellent. But you knew when we married that my dream was to be a part of the Park City troupe.

And where did that leave me? Your husband?

You could have come with me.

His eyes narrowed to slits. And what of my business? Was I to abandon everything I’d worked for all my life?

She shook her head. "Was I supposed to abandon everything I’d worked for?" Why couldn’t he see? She loved what she did every bit as much as he loved his shipping company. Her injury frustrated her, slowed her down. And worse, was the gnawing fear that she’d never dance again. It was almost as big as the fear she’d once had of losing him. But he’d given her no choice...only an ultimatum. An impossible one.

Niko could understand none of her struggle. She’d wanted it all. Her dancing and him. An impossible dream. She’d ended up losing him, instead. And now, with her injury, she might have lost the other portion of that dream too.

She sighed. Why are we arguing? It’s over. Done. We couldn’t agree, so we got a divorce.

Your choice, Brialena, not mine.

The way her name rolled off his tongue, caused tiny shivers to run up her spine. She flicked the hem of her skirt a little lower.

I could argue the point of who walked out on whom, but what’s the use? She sagged against the seat, exhausted by the memories. She wasn’t up for another fight. Not with everything else she had to worry about. I’m not going back to Piraeus. I already have physical therapy sessions scheduled in the city.

How long will you need treatment?

That was the problem. No one knew exactly.

Six months. Maybe longer. Would she already be replaced by the time she could dance again? The brutal reality clawed at her insides with every breath. Ballet companies were notoriously fickle. A few missed rehearsals could mean the end of a career.

What would it hurt to get a second opinion? His low voice brought her back from her thoughts. Maybe something else can be done.

I’ve already seen two specialists here.

Why not three, then? I know an orthopedic surgeon who’s one of the best in the world. He’s in Athens. He brushed a piece of lint off his trousers as if he hadn’t a care in the world. I’ve spoken with him. He can see you in three days time.

He’d called him? You had no right.

Do you want what’s best for your leg? Or is your pride worth the risk of shoddy care?

The familiar flare of panic shot through her. What if something went wrong? What if she couldn’t dance?

He leaned closer, one hand reaching to finger the end of her braid, which dangled too close to her left breast for comfort. He lifted the length of hair and slid the blunt ends over his jaw. It was a familiar action that made her heart cramp.

If her hair had nerve endings, they would be shooting warning blasts straight to her brain. The slow brushing motions were doing enough damage on their own. They made her ache to slide her fingers across the clean-shaven surface of his jaw. To see if it was as smooth as she remembered. If his skin was as hot...if his flesh was as...

His voice jerked her back from the brink. "I have a proposal for you, agape mou."

She blinked, ignoring the familiar endearment. A proposal?

Gnawing the inside of her cheek, sick dread began building inside her chest, until it overtook even the fear of not dancing.

What kind of proposal?

You’ll go with me to Greece and get Dr. Stamos’s opinion.

It was never that simple with Niko. In return for...

He shrugged. Playing hostess for a few year-end company parties.

Hostess? Surely you can hire someone to do that for you. Her lips tightened, and she yanked the braid of hair from his hands. Or you can get one of your girlfriends to fill in.

A muscle in his jaw jumped. I don’t play the field.

It wouldn’t matter to me if you did. You can have a hundred women. A harem. I stopped caring about your fidelity the moment the divorce papers were signed. If only it had been that easy. Unfortunately it wasn’t. She’d never stopped caring. And being near him again, made her realize how dangerous it was to be in this position. She’d love nothing more than to get on the next plane with him.

But she couldn’t. Not when he was blind to the fact that her ambitions in life were every bit as important as his.

I don’t need you to care. His voice was light, but there were dangerous undertones which warned her to be careful. I’m asking you to play hostess. Nothing more. In return you’ll get the best medical treatment money can buy.

Money. God, he’d hit her at her weakest point. She had health insurance, but a ballerina didn’t make a fortune and she’d turned down the settlement Niko had tried to push off on her during the divorce. She hadn’t