Secret Paradise

She buried her face in his neck. “Please, Uncle Lucian. Please don’t leave me alone.”

“You won’t be alone. You’ll have—”

She vigorously shook her head and said in a trembling voice, “No, please. Please!”

“Shh. Don’t cry.” He sighed. “Okay. I’ll jump after you.”

She shook her head again.

“I promise.”

“You promise, really?” She held out her hand.

He took it and held it against his chest, over his heart. “I promise. On my soul.” He kissed her hand, then released it. “Now, let’s go.”

She looked at him.

He turned her face. “Don’t look back at me. Only look ahead. Remember what I taught you?”

“Where I’m going matters more than where I’ve been,” she said, as though repeating a solemn vow.

“Right.”

She hugged him. “I love you, Uncle Lucian.”

“I know,” he said impatiently, disentangling himself from her grasp. They didn’t have time. He had to get her to safety. “Face forward.”

She did, and he threw her out the window and watched her fall into the water. He waited for her to emerge to the surface and felt his tense heart relax when he saw her head pop up and she swam to the edge of the Olympic-size pool. She was safe.

The fire was at the door. Lucian could hear it pressing against the wood, wanting entrance. He turned to the door, knowing that in an instant it could all be over. All the secrets, betrayal and curses could die with him. It was his fate. He turned to the window from which Callia had fallen, and stared at the darkening sky, watching as the sinking sun created the same violent reds and yellows against the horizon as the blaze that consumed his house. He’d promised Callia he would live, even though she’d be better off without him. He’d promised on his soul, but he felt he had no soul to make a promise with. Looking down, he saw her mouth move, but it was too distant to hear. He knew she was calling his name.

He wouldn’t leave her yet; he’d defy fate. He sat on the edge of the window. “I’m coming,” he said, not caring if she heard him or not. He would not leave her afraid. Just as he was pushing away from the windowsill to launch into the air, the fire broke through the door and reached through the room like the long arm of a fiery beast, as if trying to grab him back. Glass exploded above him and the uncontrolled fire continued to fuel itself. Then suddenly there was an explosion caused by a back draft, the result of the fire suddenly receiving oxygen, and it propelled Lucian through the air.

Before he hit the water, he briefly wondered if he’d have a watery grave instead of a fiery one, and then he thought of nothing else.

Chapter 1

Dear God, how was he going to tell her? J. D. Rozan set his phone down and shut off his computer, trying to strategize how best to break the news to his wife.

Monica knew about tragedy. Her first husband had died in a vicious incident, and she’d survived a past that would have sent another type of woman to a mental ward. He’d wanted to protect her from any more pain, but that seemed impossible. The last three years had been perfect. Nothing to mar their idyllic existence at the farmhouse in Georgia. J.D. looked out the window and saw the red flash of a cardinal as it flew past. He thought of their daughter, Starla, who was napping in the upstairs nursery. She was a happy child who giggled at the sound of thunderstorms and loved to jump into puddles. This lazy summer day he’d taken time off because Monica’s sister, Nikki, had come to visit and he planned to take them all to the beach. But that would have to change.

J.D. pushed himself from his chair and left the room he used as a study. He had to tell her. He’d just have to do it fast. He took a deep breath and walked toward his wife’s studio, where she designed jewelry for her clients around the world. J.D. stood in front of the door and raised his hand to knock, then hesitated when he heard Monica’s laughter, followed by her sister’s. J.D. let his hand fall. He could tell her later, at dinner or before they went to bed, but then he didn’t know how much time there was left. She needed to know now. He sighed, then knocked.

“Come in.”

J.D. stepped into the bright, airy studio. He saw his wife and stopped. She was so beautiful that even the sun seemed to seek her out in the room, its tender rays stroking her long, straight black river of hair, caressing her exquisite profile and highlighting her gorgeous eyes. She greeted him with a smile, which always made him want to kiss her. Her younger sister, Nikki, sat in the shadowed corner near the window, wearing jeans and a peasant blouse, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail sporting two silver streaks. She wasn’t as striking as her sister, but she had a unique beauty all her own, sharp hazel eyes and a pug nose. There was no envy between the sisters, just an acceptance similar to how the moon made way for the sun. J.D. was glad she was there.

He took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Monica.” That was all he said. He’d never know if it was the tone or his expression, but something made her drop her tools.

She ran over to him, her eyes wide with fear. “What happened?”

He led her over to a chair. “Sit down.”

She pulled away from him. “Just tell me.”

“It’s Lucian.”

She collapsed into the chair. “He’s dead?”

“Nearly. At this point it’s touch and go. The doctors are doing everything they can for him.”

“What happened?” Nikki asked when her sister remained silent.

“An explosion at his mansion caused a massive fire, and he and Callia were trapped inside and barely escaped. He was badly burned. They had to put him into a coma. His brother Basilio just called me. He wants us to be prepared in case…”

Monica shook her head. “He’s strong.” She returned to her drafting table, as if everything was settled. J.D. shared a look with Nikki. If she wanted to be in denial, who was he to stop her?

Nikki frowned. “Monica, you can’t pretend that he may not make it.”

Monica spun around and glared at her sister. “I’m not pretending anything. I know Lucian Kontos and I know that a man like him will live.”

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Monica—”

“No.”

J.D. shook his head. “Honey—”

Monica looked at him, her lips pursed. “He’ll get through this.” She pointed a pencil at him. “When we went to his island for our honeymoon, I was still having nightmares about my past and couldn’t stop. Do you know what he said? He said that if anything ever happened to you, he’d take care of me. That I was his family, too, and it was real. He sees you as a brother. You can’t give up on him.”

J.D. threw up his hands in frustration. “I’m not giving up on him. I’ve known him for years. I love him as much as you do, but I know about his injuries. He’s been badly burned. This is a man who loves life, and all that it has to offer. He’ll be undergoing several surgeries, but we have to admit that in spite of all the therapy and plastic surgery he may be able to afford, there’s still a limitation to what medicine can do. He may not regain the use of his arm or ever walk again. Even if he lives, he won’t be the same man.”

“He’ll recover,” Monica said defiantly.

J.D. folded his arms and looked grim.

Nikki stiffened. “There’s something else you’re not telling us.”

J.D. nodded. “It’s about the explosion. They think it was arson.”

“Someone tried to kill him?” Monica asked.

“They’re investigating. His brother is looking into all possibilities.”

“I’m sure it was a simple accident,” Nikki said, reading the look of horror on Monica’s face.

Monica shook her head. “That house is enormous. He should have had time to escape.”

“Fires move fast,” Nikki said.