The Secret Heiress (33 page)

She felt his warm breath on her ear, then his lips gently trailing across her forehead, down each of her cheeks, then back to her lips. They kissed again, more passionately. He parted her lips with his tongue, and Ariadne shivered with pleasure, giving herself up to his exploration, relishing the feel of him. For a long time they kissed and hugged in the water, their arms around each other, until he drew back at last.

“Let’s go into the pool house where no one can see us,” he said.

She nodded.

He took her hand and led her out of the water and inside the pool house, where he guided her to one of the couches. Ariadne spread out lengthwise, and he lay next to her and began kissing her again. She felt one of his hands on her breasts, and she gasped as he began fondling them gently. He slid the straps from her shoulders, one at a time, then began kissing and licking her nipples. The pleasure was such that she nearly levitated off the couch, and she held him tight, wanting this to never end.

When she felt his hardness against her, she moaned at its strange but erotic power and felt an urgency between her thighs that was heaven-sent. One of her hands trailed down his back to his rounded, muscular ass, and she stroked it in circles, before slipping her hand beneath the tight swimsuit in which it was trapped.

Matt groaned, and his lips found her mouth again. He began kissing her with mounting passion, and one of his hands slid down to the mound between her thighs, brushing against it lightly, teasingly, feeling her heat and dampness. She pushed against his hand, and he responded by easing his hand inside the confines of her bikini bottom, pressing his fingers to her sweet lips.

“Oh, my God, Matt,” Ariadne whispered, and began to moan.

He slid her bikini bottom down, and she wriggled out of it as he took off his swimsuit. He sprang free against her, and she reached down and touched him, encircling him with her hand. Matt gasped, then kissed her long and hard before suddenly drawing back.

“Oh, Ariadne,” he whispered. “I want you so much. Desperately.” He kissed her again, his passion all-consuming.

“I want you, too, Matt,” she murmured.

Then slowly he began guiding himself to the anxious, swollen lips between her thighs. He was very gentle, trying to control the impulse to enter her with the thrust his desire demanded.

She felt the swollen head of his manhood inside her. As he tenderly continued entering her, her body accepted and welcomed him there. She grasped his back and held on to him with all her might and started moving with him, the desire to have all of him, to satisfy her own passion and his, overwhelming all else. They moved as one, rhythmically, slowly at first, their pace gradually increasing until they were pounding against each other with wild abandon.

Matt suddenly let out a cry, and his entire body jerked, then tensed, as he came inside her. Ariadne felt herself contract around him as a flood tide of ecstasy swept her up, up, up into a realm of pleasure such as she’d never known existed. Time itself seemed to stand still. She had relished their lovemaking since the first time, but she had not experienced erotic pleasure like this before. It was a feeling of completeness, as if nothing could be added to it to make it more perfect.

Matt exhaled a hot breath against her face and hugged her to him powerfully. He began kissing her face.

“Ariadne,” he rasped softly. “Ariadne . . . Ariadne . . . I love you. . . . I love you. . . .”

Ariadne didn’t think she would ever forget this moment. It would be etched in her mind with a clarity that would never diminish, she thought. Even the pale, diffuse light from the swimming pool outside that cast its bluish tint into the room would color her memories of this act of love for the rest of her life. All the years of abandonment and loneliness and questioning seemed unimportant now, receding into the past. Their love—for that was what it must be, she thought—displaced those feelings.

“I love you, too, Matt,” she finally whispered to him.

When they parted at last, Ariadne reluctantly returned to her room in the house, unafraid and unconcerned of the reactions of anyone there. She felt a strength and a hope that were new and empowering. She should be exhausted, she thought, but her entire being was energized as it never had been before by what she and Matt had discovered together. The future held promise now, and she felt it deep down inside, in a place where no one could take it away.

 

 

 

 

N
o construction helmets were necessary this time as Nikoletta toured her favorite place on earth, the almost completed PPHL International Headquarters on West Forty-second Street. In her mind, it was a monument erected to her glory, one that would be a landmark in New York City for decades, if not centuries, to come.

Her considerable entourage included Rik Persoons, the principal architect; his most senior associates; several PPHL senior executives; her personal assistant, Danette Shrager; and Glenn Gund, the interior designer, who had arrived with
his
battalion of minions. The group followed her lead, stopping where she did, showing interest in those things that she did, and staying close to her heels, trying to catch her every word. They all shared certain knowledge: that even at this late stage in the construction process, one single misstep and Nikoletta Papadaki would take great pleasure in seeing a head roll and replacing it with that of someone else. After the arduous process they’d all been through, they wanted the credit for the finished product, and they knew the only way to get it was to be involved until the very end.

After finishing a walk-through of the sixty-seventh floor, where Nikoletta’s luxurious suite of offices was nearing readiness, she announced, “Now I wish to tour my triplex apartment.”

The majority of the entourage was dismissed, except for Rik Persoons, Danette Shrager, and Glenn Gund. Associates and minions were neither welcomed nor permitted beyond the sixty-seventh floor today.

They took the private keyed elevator to the sixty-eighth floor, the first of the three full floors of living space high above Manhattan. These top three stories of the building that were to be her new digs boasted fifteen-foot ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, and thirty thousand square feet of interior space. The terraces on various levels of the apartment would put all others in New York City to shame.

All three floors of the apartment were a hive of activity. Workmen, from plasterers to carpenters, were plowing full speed ahead, and Glenn Gund began rushing around, barking orders, and gesticulating madly as he decided on some last-minute changes. Although he was allowed a certain degree of freedom with the design of the apartment, he always consulted with Nikoletta before making any changes, and those he was demanding today had already been cleared by her.

The workmen grumbled and cursed among themselves, but never within Nikoletta’s earshot and seldom within Glenn’s. They swore that they’d never worked for two such demanding taskmasters, and hoped that they would never have to take a job that involved either of them again.

Rik Persoons led Nikoletta outside, onto one of the many windswept terraces. “I have news that I think will please you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Remember how we scheduled the completion of the building for seven weeks from now?”

“Yes?” Nikoletta, guessing what was coming, felt a surge of excitement.

“And remember the weekly bonuses you promised for early completion?”

She nodded.

“Well, that’s worked wonders with the construction team. The building will be ready for occupancy within three weeks. Maximum.”

“You mean . . . it’s not too early to plan a grand-opening party?” Nikoletta asked. “Not too soon to get my party planner cracking and sending out the invitations?”

“Not by any means,” Rik replied.

“Oh, my God,” she swooned. “That will barely give them enough time to get everything ready. I can hear the complaints already. But who cares? This is fantastic news, Rik. This is better . . . oh, my God, this is better than . . . sex!”

Nikoletta was in seventh heaven.

 

“This cuts our time in less than half,” Adrian told a fretting Ariadne. “Less than three weeks.”

“Does this mean we should call the whole thing off?” she asked.

“Do I detect a note of hope in your question?” he asked.

“No such luck, I’m afraid. I’m into this now. I guess that’s the kind of person I am.” Ariadne smiled. The increased difficulty of the challenge appealed to her, she discovered.

“But—”

“We’ll simply have to cram a lot more learning into a lot less time, won’t we?” Ariadne said.
Heaven help me,
she thought.
I actually had an out and didn’t take advantage of it.

Adrian studied her face for a moment. “I think we can do it, Ariadne,” he said. “I believe that more now than I ever did before. Let’s get busy. I’ve got a lot of different lessons in business for you today.”

“Business I can handle,” she said with a sparkle in her eye.

 

“I’ve already sent out an information packet to every important magazine and newspaper editor in New York and every major city in the States,” Zita Hadad said with pride, displaying the expensively produced folder, complete with recent photographs of the new PPHL headquarters. “And every architecture critic in the country has been sent the packet and been invited, along with some of the more important art critics.”

Nikoletta nodded. “Have all the invitations gone out?”

Zita nodded and brushed at her crew-cut black hair. “Yes, by overnight mail, and let me tell you that anybody who’s anybody has been sent one. From high society to business leaders, Hollywood stars, celebrity athletes. You name ’em, Niki, and they’ve got an invitation if they’re important.” She knocked on the desk with a huge gold ring set with a peridot to emphasize her point. “And I’ll guarantee you that ninety percent of them or more will be there because most of ’em owe me and owe me big-time.”

“Good,” Nikoletta said. She’d been closeted in her office with Lawrence Lowell, the preeminent party planner in New York, as well as most European capitals, and Zita Hadad, the head of the most powerful public relations firm in New York, hearing their reports on the celebration.

“Photographers are going to be there from every publication you can think of,” Zita added. “One, because you’re giving the party, and two, because they know that everybody who’s anybody is not going to miss it. So the publicity factor is going to be
huuuuge
.” She threw her hands into the air dramatically, and the big bangle bracelets on her arms clanged against one another.

“And you, Lawrence?” Nikoletta asked. “Do you have everything ready to go?”

“You bet,” Lawrence Lowell replied. “I’m pulling out all the stops just like you said, Niki. Everybody in Manhattan is going to know this party is going on unless they’re indoors with the curtains drawn.” He laughed. “There’ll be klieg lights on the Forty-second Street side
and
the West Side Highway, so it’ll look like a major movie premiere. Only better. A real red carpet running from the curb of Forty-second all the way into the building, with plenty of cordoned-off space for the press and photographers. They’ll be able to shoot away and ask all the questions they want to. It’ll be up to the celebrities and their PR people as to whether or not they cooperate, of course, but—”

“I’m aware of all that,” Nikoletta said impatiently, “but what about the decor? Have you got that under control? I don’t want to hear about thousands of orchids that didn’t arrive at the last minute.”

“No, no, Niki,” he said. “Not to worry. Our Galerie des Glaces is going to be the most beautiful thing anybody’s ever seen. Nothing’s going to have to be air-freighted from Kathmandu or anything like that. I showed you the drawings, right?”

“Yes, Lawrence,” Nikoletta said. “I’ve seen the drawings a dozen times.”

“Well, I’ve lined up everything, and it’s all ready to go. Huge arrangements for the lobby, all the bars, the tables, and so on, along with a zillion potted trees and flowers. The lobby and atrium and all the mezzanines are going to be beautiful. Over sixty crystal chandeliers. I’ve got the uniforms lined up for the security detail, except for those working incognito, of course. Very dressy and flashy, like the drawings. It’s going to be worthy of Versailles. Just like I promised you.”

“Yes, but is everything you showed me definitely in place, ready for installation? I don’t mean flowers, of course, but everything else? There’s going to be
no
last-minute panic?”

“Absolutely not, Niki,” Lawrence said, crossing his heart with a hand.

“Okay,” she said. “But I’ll have your brains for breakfast if there’s a screwup. And you’ll never get work from anybody
I
know.”