“That’s not your responsibility.”
He stepped closer, his cologne wrapping around me. “And I want to get to know you better.” His fingers brushed my forearm, sending electricity through my skin.
I took a slow breath, trying to settle the fluttering in my stomach. “Tell me more about the island.” Anything to distract me from the shape of his lips.
He pulled out his phone and showed me photos of an estate, the buildings grand but weathered. They had good bones, but clearly needed care.
“I’d be right there with you,” he said, his voice easy but intent. “It was one of my father’s conditions for giving you the contract.”
The idea of working side by side with him for weeks made my thoughts scatter. “I’ll think it over and let you know.”
The next morning, the American Embassy rose before me, its flags snapping in the breeze as my taxi pulled away. My stomachtightened with anxiety as I approached the entrance, clutching passport photos and documents from my mother.
The waiting room already buzzed with fellow Americans in various states of crisis. I took my number and waited, rehearsing my explanation. Nearly two hours later, a stern-faced woman called my number.
“Passport replacement?” she asked without looking up, her fingers flying over her keyboard.
“Yes,” I answered, sliding into the seat across from her desk. Her nameplate read “Agent Rose.”
She finally looked up, unimpressed by my predicament. “Identification?”
I presented the documents my mother had emailed—birth certificate, social security card, and a copy of my state ID.
“No physical ID?” Her tone edged with suspicion.
“Everything was stolen,” I explained, fidgeting under her gaze.
“Did you file a police report?” She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
I hesitated. “Not yet.”
Her fingers stopped typing. “Ms. Massey, do you understand the seriousness of losing your passport? It’s a federal document.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Where were you when this occurred?”
I explained about losing my belongings at a party. Agent Rose’s expression remained impassive.
She studied me before returning to her computer. “Without a police report and physical identification, this process will take longer.”
My heart sank. “How long?”
“A seven days, minimum.” She handed me the forms to complete. “Fill these out, provide your photos, and pay the expedited fee. We’ll need to verify your identity through our database.”
I complied, then received my receipt.
“Return next Thursday,” Agent Rose said. “And Ms. Massey? I strongly recommend filing that police report. Without it, you’re making this process much more complicated than it needs to be.”
I nodded, feeling oddly chastised as I walked into the bright Athenian sunshine. Finding a taxi took longer than expected, giving me time to ponder my predicament.
A week before I could get my passport. A summer job on a private Greek island. A cocky, handsome man who made my pulse race despite my better judgment.
The money could cover grad school or my own condo. And restoring classical Greek architecture would be a dream portfolio addition. Like, what even is my life right now?
But then there was my mother. I winced, imagining her reaction if I told her I was staying in Greece for the summer. She’d been against this trip from the beginning. Warned me about traveling abroad, about trusting Kat, about everything. Finding out I was now working for a wealthy Greek family she’d never met? She’d be on the next flight, convinced I’d joined some kind of cult.
I finally caught a taxi. The driver muttered something when we hit a pothole, reminding me how foreign everything was. Could I stay for months? Work with Santo, whose very presence scrambled my thoughts?
