“Kayla started braiding my hair while Yiorgos watched.” She patted the finished side. “She only got this half done before youruncle came stomping into the backyard, picked her up like a sack of potatoes, and carried her off. She was yelling the whole time.”
I burst into laughter. That would have meant that Konstantin had immediately flown back to Greece after leaving the hotel. “It’s my fault your hair is partly done, then.” I explained what I’d said to my uncle, leaving out the cruder implications.
“You didn’t!” Tia looked amused, her hand covering her mouth, but added, concern softening her features, “I hope Kayla is okay.”
“Konstantin is harmless. Just jealous. Him and Yiorgos have a longstanding feud.”
We shared a good laugh together, and then something shifted in the air between us. The conversation paused naturally, leaving room for the unspoken awareness. Tia ran her tongue along her lower lip, a gesture so simple yet so distracting.
“I miss you,” I said.
Her expression softened. “I miss you too. When will you be back?”
“Day after tomorrow. Earlier if I can manage it.”
The hotel room suddenly felt emptier, the distance more acute. I wanted to reach through the screen and feel her skin and the texture of her hair. The intensity of this wanting was unfamiliar territory, more complex than mere physical desire.
“Show me what you’re wearing,” I said.
Tia raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Not like that,” I clarified, though the thought had crossed my mind. “I just want to see more than your face. See where you are.”
She tilted the phone back, revealing she was wearing a simple gray tank top and what appeared to be pajama shorts, sitting cross-legged on her bed.
“Your turn,” she said. “Show me where you are.”
I reversed the camera briefly, panning it around the generic hotel room with its neutral colors and standardized furniture. “Not much to see. Just another hotel room.”
Tia yawned, the gesture both sleepy and somehow endearing.
“You should sleep,” I said, though I was reluctant to end our call.
She smiled, the expression soft and intimate in the dim light of her room. “Night, Chrys. Be safe tomorrow, okay?”
After the call ended, I set my phone aside, the room suddenly darker and quieter without her presence on the screen. The silence emphasized my solitude.
For years, I’d prided myself on being single. Now I counted the hours until I could return to her.
17
“This way,” Dimitrios said as he led me into the VIP section of the huge stadium. Aristides, as usual, was walking several paces in front, not bothering to look back to see if we were following.
I was in awe of my surroundings, and of the private jet that brought me here, but struggled not to show it. I’d never been to Belgium before—and never in a private jet. The sheer enormity of the luxury on board boggled my mind.
Even though the flight was four hours long, we’d been fed a sumptuous meal cooked by an onboard chef, washed down withchampagne. I’d even been offered the chance to take a shower on board. I declined.
The pilot came back into the chrome and leather-lined cabin to shake the hand of Chrys’s father and uncle … and to kiss mine.
I couldn’t wait to tell my mom about it, though lately she’s been different. Whenever I called her, she seemed distracted or tired even though she asked the right questions and encouraged me like she always did. Something was different.
We were in Belgium to witness one of Chrys’s most important and most hotly contested races, one he’d been training for and focusing on for weeks. I hadn’t seen him since we’d left Thalassía a week ago. He’d left me feeling sun-kissed, blissfully happy, and a hell of a lot more knowledgeable about driving and sex.
“Tia!” a familiar voice called out.
I turned to see Kayla hurrying toward me, her vibrant sundress billowing around her legs. Behind her, Konstantin followed at a more measured pace, his posture impeccable as always.
“Kayla!” I squealed, rushing to meet her halfway.
