I should have pushed him away. Should have reminded him of his past relationship with Kat. Should have done anything except arch my body into his.
“Santo,” I whispered, but it wasn’t a protest. It was permission, a plea for more.
He captured my mouth again, harder this time, demanding. My notebook clattered to the ground as I gripped his head, pulling him closer. His lips blazed a trail of fire down my neck, his hands exploring my body, making me ache with need.
“Christ, aggelé mou,” he murmured against my throat. “You make me forget everything.”
“We should head back to the helicopter,” I said, even as my body begged for more. “If we want to leave here before sunset.”
He pressed against me one last time, his penis throbbing against my stomach. “Or we could stay,” he murmured, his eyes filled with dark promises. “And I could make you forget everything, too.”
“We need to go,” I whispered, collecting my fallen notebook with trembling hands. As we walked toward the airstrip, the heat of his gaze followed me.
“I can do this,” I intoned, my voice competing with the buzz of pedestrian chatter around us. “This is what I went to school for. This is the job I’ve dreamed of.”
We weaved through Plaka’s narrow cobblestone streets, the afternoon sun stretching between pastel-colored buildings. A street musician’s bouzouki created a melodic backdrop to my professional anxiety.
“Of course you can do this,” Kayla exclaimed, pausing to admire a display of handcrafted jewelry before linking her arm through mine. “You have the degree and the talent to make it happen.”
I smiled gratefully at her, dodging a group of tourists. The scent of souvlaki and fresh bread wafted from a nearby taverna, momentarily distracting me from my worries.
In the short time since Kayla had arrived at the Christakis estate, she’d become an ally. Her bubbly personality had quickly broken through my usual reserve. She reminded me of Tammy.
“Let’s sit,” Kayla suggested, pointing to a tiny café tucked into a stone archway. “You can show me those photos again.”
As I spread the villa images across our marble tabletop, the waiter arrived with coffees. My mind drifted back to the island visit three days ago. The crumbling grandeur of Thalassía had taken my breath away—both its decay and its potential. But it wasn’t justthe architectural features dominating my thoughts. It was Santo’s touch, his words.
“Earth to Tia.” Kayla waved her hand before my face. “That dreamy look has nothing to do with cornices and pediments, does it?”
I blinked, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “What? Of course it does. Look at these arches. They’re practically begging for restoration.”
“Mmhmm.” Kayla stirred her coffee. “And your face gets all soft and glowy when you think about... arches.”
A nearby church bell tolled. I busied myself rearranging photos while an elderly couple shuffled past, their hands intertwined.
“Fine,” I relented, lowering my voice. “Maybe I was thinking about Santo.”
Kayla squealed, drawing glances from the neighboring tables. “I knew it! You two are cute together.”
“We’re not together,” I sighed, tracing the rim of my coffee cup. “His ex-girlfriend is—was—my friend.”
Kayla wrinkled her nose. “The one who abandoned you without a second thought?”
I nodded. The waiter returned with a plate of honey-drizzled loukoumades. I grabbed one, using the sweet distraction to gather my thoughts.
“And you’re feeling guilty about liking him?”
“It’s not just guilt. It’s...” I hesitated. “Santo could have anyone. He’s gorgeous, wealthy, and handsome. Meanwhile, I’m just—”
“Brilliant, talented, and beautiful,” Kayla interjected firmly. “Don’t sell yourself short, Tia.”
A street vendor passed by selling evil eye bracelets. Kayla bought two, slipping one onto my wrist with a conspiratorial smile.
“Protection,” she explained. “And a reminder to follow your heart.”
I laughed softly, admiring the vibrant blue against my skin. “Did you follow yours?”
Her smile faltered slightly. “Not exactly. I married Konstantin in my sister’s place.”
