The Darkest of Secrets. Kate Hewitt

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      Grace laughed again, softly, a little breath of sound. ‘Maybe she’ll be famous one day.’ She half-turned and, with a somersault of her heart, realised just how close he had come. His face—his lips—were mere inches away. She could see their mobile fullness, amazed at how such a masculine man could have such lush, kissable, sexy lips. She felt a shaft of longing pierce her and quickly she moved onto the next painting. ‘So why me? Why a Renaissance specialist?’

      ‘Because of these.’

      He took her hand in his own and shock jolted through her with the force of an electric current, short-circuiting her senses. Grace jerked her hand away from his too hard, her breath coming out in an outraged gasp.

      Khalis stopped, an eyebrow arched. Grace knew her reaction had been ridiculously extreme. How could she explain it? She could not, not easily at any rate. She decided to ignore the whole sorry little episode and raised her chin a notch. ‘Show me, please.’

      ‘Very well.’ With one last considering look he led her to a door she hadn’t noticed in the back of the room. He opened it and switched on an electric light before ushering her inside.

      The room was small and round, and it felt like being inside a tower, or perhaps a shrine. Grace saw only two artworks on the walls, and they stole the breath right from her lungs.

      ‘What—’ She stepped closer, stared hard at the wood panels with their thick brushstrokes of oil paint. ‘Do you know what these are?’ she whispered.

      ‘Not precisely,’ Khalis told her, ‘but they definitely aren’t something my god-daughter could paint.’

      Grace smiled and shook her head. ‘No, indeed.’ She stepped closer, her gaze roving over the painted wood panels. ‘Leonardo da Vinci.’

      ‘Yes, he’s quite famous, isn’t he?’

      Her smile widened, to her own amazement. She hadn’t expected Khalis Tannous to amuse her. ‘He is, rather. But they could be forgeries, you know.’

      ‘I doubt they are,’ Khalis answered. ‘Simply by the fact they’re in their own little room.’ He paused, his tone turning grim. ‘And I know my father. He didn’t like to be tricked.’

      ‘Forgeries can be of exceptional quality,’ Grace told him. ‘And they even have their own value—’

      ‘My father—’ Khalis cut her off ‘—liked the best.’

      She turned back to the paintings, drinking them in. If these were real … how many people had seen these ever? ‘How on earth did he find them?’

      ‘I have no idea. I don’t really want to know.’

      ‘They weren’t stolen, at least not from a museum.’

      ‘No?’

      ‘These have never been in a museum.’

      ‘Then they are rather special, aren’t they?’

      She gave a little laugh. ‘You could say that.’ She shook her head slowly, still trying to take it in. Two original Leonardo paintings never seen in a museum. Never known to exist, beyond rumours. ‘If these are real, they would comprise the most significant find of the art world in the last century.’

      Khalis sighed heavily, almost as if he were disappointed by such news. ‘I suspected as much,’ he said, and flicked out the lights. ‘You can examine them at length later. But right now I think we both deserve some refreshment.’

      Her mind still spinning, Grace barely took in his words. ‘Refreshment?’

      ‘Dinner, Ms Turner. I’m starving.’ And with an almost wolfish smile he led her out of the vault.

      CHAPTER THREE

      GRACE paced the sumptuous bedroom Eric had shown her to, her mind still racing from the revelations found in that vault. She longed to ring Michel, but she’d discovered her mobile phone didn’t get reception on this godforsaken island. She wondered if that was intentional; somehow she didn’t think Balkri Tannous wanted his guests having free contact with the outside world. But what about Khalis?

      It occurred to her, not for the first time but with more force, that she really knew nothing about this man. Michel had given her the barest details: he was Balkri Tannous’s younger son; he’d gone to Cambridge; he’d left his family at twenty-one and made his own way in America. But beyond that?

      She knew he was handsome and charismatic and arrogantly assured. She knew his closeness made her heart skip a beat. She knew the scent and heat of him had made her dizzy. He’d made her laugh.

      Appalled by the nature of her thoughts, Grace shook her head as if the mere action could erase her thinking. She could not be attracted to this man. And even if her body insisted on betraying her, her mind wouldn’t. Her heart wouldn’t.

      Not again.

      She took a deep, shuddering breath and strove for calm. Control. What she didn’t know about Khalis Tannous was whether the reality of a huge billion dollar empire would make him power hungry. Whether the sight of millions of dollars’ worth of art made him greedy. Whether he could be trusted.

      She’d seen how wealth and power had turned a man into someone she barely recognised. Charming on the outside—and Khalis was charming—but also selfish and cruel. Would Khalis be like that? Like her ex-husband?

      And why, Grace wondered with a lurch of panic, was she thinking about Khalis and her ex-husband in the same breath? Khalis was her client, no more. Her client with a great deal of expensive art.

      Another breath. She needed to think rationally rather than react with emotion, with her memories and fears. This was a different island, a different man. And she was different now, too. Stronger. Harder. Wiser. She had no intention of getting involved with anyone … even if she could.

      Deliberately she sat down and pulled a pad of paper towards her. She’d make notes, handle this like any other assignment. She wouldn’t think of the way Khalis looked in his swimming trunks, the clean, sculpted lines of his chest and shoulders. She wouldn’t remember how he’d made her smile, lightened her heart—something that hardly seemed possible. And she certainly wouldn’t wonder if he might end up like his father—or her ex-husband. Corrupted by power, ruined with wealth. It didn’t matter. In a few days she would be leaving this wretched island, as well as its owner.

      Grace Turner. Khalis stared at the small white card she’d given him. It listed only her qualifications, the name of her company and her phone number. He balanced the card on his knuckles, turning his hand quickly to catch it before he brought it unthinkingly to his lips, almost as if he could catch the scent of her from that little bit of paper.

      Grace Turner intrigued him, on many levels. Of course he’d first been struck by her looks; she was an uncommonly beautiful woman. A bit unconventional, perhaps, with her honey-blond hair and chocolate eyes, an unusual and yet beguiling combination. Her lashes were thick and sooty, sweeping down all too often to hide the emotions he thought he saw in her eyes.

      And her figure … generous curves and endless legs, all showcased in business attire that was no doubt meant to look professional but СКАЧАТЬ