The Price of Betrayal: Chapter Three

Chapter 3:

            “No!” she whispered horrified, out loud. “He couldn’t have found me here!”

         As she stared at the page, fear shot through her like a flashlight into the dark. She reread the note as she rocked back and forth on her bed. How could he have found me after all this time, she thought. She glanced down at her bed and saw the letter from Ola and remembered what it had said about the message, “This was delivered to the cottage.”

         If it went to the cottage, she thought, then he is still five years behind. I’m still safe!

         As she relaxed onto her bed, she started to remember all the joy and happiness spent in that cottage.

                                                ***
         She was absorbed into her painting of the cool, calm, turquoise- sky blue of the sea with the white-cream of the sand underneath her feet. The jagged white boulders along the coast with lavender, mint and thyme springing out of it. The heat of the midmorning sun rising behind her and the sweet tangy small of the sea mixing with the nearby mint plants.

         “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The voice came from behind her, startling her. Jerking her paintbrush away from the painting, she spun around. Looking up, she stared at the man behind her. Blue eyes, the color of the sea that she was painting, stared back at her. Dark, thick black hair waved around a face reminiscent of the Ancient Greek Gods. Straight nose, dark almost straight brows and a full mouth that was caught up in a smile.

         “Yes, it is. Especially the clear blue depth of the sea against the white of the sand,” Alex answered, watching him absorb what she had painted.

         “This is magnificent! You’ve managed to capture the strength and power of the sea even when it’s at rest like this,” he said, turning to her. Looking at her now, he studied the emotions flickering in her eyes. Nervousness, appreciation, apprehension.

         “I’m Alex, by the way.”

         “Alex?” he asked.

         “Short for Alexandra” she answered, finishing the painting.

         “After the Conqueror?”

         “Yes.”

         “I’m Nick. Short for Nikolaos. After my grandfather.”

         “You’re Greek, then.”

         “Yes. Where are you from?”

         “America.”

         “Ah… the land of the great. Where at in America are you from? The big-bad New York City, perhaps?”

         “No, Illinois.”

         “Cornfields?”

         “Yes,” she answered as she sealed up the finished painting and started to pack up her supplies.

         “Done already?”

         “Yes and I have to be getting back.”

         “Have lunch with me,” he asked impulsively.

         “I can’t,” she answered.

         “Dinner?”

         “Sorry.”

         “Then, at least meet me tomorrow and let me show you around the island.”

      “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. You could be a mass murderer for all I know.”

      Nick threw back his head and laughed. “Mass murderer? Sorry, I haven’t yet killed anybody this week. Besides, how will you get to know me if you don’t spend time with me?”

      “Psychically?” Alex quipped.

        Nick laughed harder. “God, keep it up and I’ll have to marry you.”

      “No, thank you. I have to be going.”

      “Come have coffee with me, please,” Nick asked again. “We’ll be surrounded by people. You’ll be safe.”

    “I really have to be getting back.”

    “We can stop by your hotel on the way to go get coffee and you can verify with the concierge that I’m not a serial killer.”

                                                * * *
          Little did I know how one cup of coffee would change me life, she thought as she drifted off to sleep on her bed.