“If you’re going to spend any more time with me, you should probably call me Stef.”
“Theo.”
We shake hands as if we make a pact. And I shiver at the touch of his hand against mine.
Chapter Thirteen
We make separate flight arrangements to Kerkyra to stave off any chance at becoming tabloid fodder, especially after I squashed Stefanos so publicly in London and the extra-spicy ongoing coverage with Aidan, which hasn’t died down yet. An internet search shows me that Stefanos—Stef—isn’t messy on social media or the tabloids. There’re tasteful photos of him, with his family, or caught by the paparazzi at places like the airport or getting a coffee. Nothing to lose a family fortune over. And no tell-all exes like Aidan.
Wistful, I swipe out of my phone browser on the taxi ride to the Athens airport. Butterflies dance in my stomach. I’ve taken a mad idea—going to Greece in the first place so impulsively—and have taken it even further with this escape to Kerkyra with Stefanos.
He books a flight in the morning. I book for later in the day, getting whisked through the airport’s security secret passages. I wear a hat and sunglasses and though it’s a bit conspicuously celeb, I want to keep people out of my business as much as possible.
The flight is brief, though it’s plenty of time for my stomach to knot itself in anticipation several times over. As promised by Stefanos, a driver and nondescript car wait for me and Miles at the airport when I walk out, my small suitcase rolling noisily behind me. It’s a blustery, sunny day, bright even with my sunglasses. Like it’s a different sun in the Mediterranean, even in winter, compared to the softer sunlight when it dares appear in London.
Then, I realize I don’t know exactly where I’m going, and a moment of panic settles in that I could be the subject of some kidnapping plot like the thriller I watched on the flight yesterday from London to Athens. Except in this case, Stefanos would have as much to lose as me, because it would be a very non-secret kidnapping plot, and he doesn’t really strike me as a criminal mastermind. Then again, I didn’t tell anyone other than Ethan that I was headed away because he needed to know for work reasons. I confirmed with him before I booked that it wouldn’t cause any problems. We didn’t have any client meetings this week. Yet I can’t help think about the headlines that a kidnapped prince would bring, and then the Danish monarchy would be in ruins and down two heirs, with me held for ransom and Freja off in America with her ferret fancier.
Calm down, I tell myself. I have Miles. Stef’s security has been great so far.
I suck back a deep breath and try to abort the doom spiral. Nerves, I tell myself, smoothing the navy cotton of my trousers, that’s all. It’ll be fine. Stefanos said he would take care of everything and not to worry, that I’d be his guest. I text him again that I’m on my way and try to convince myself it’s not a bad sign that I haven’t heard anything since I texted on landing.
He’s busy, obviously, having a life.
Corfu Town is busy in the afternoon as the taxi winds through traffic, down narrow roads, and towards the Old Town area. Venetian buildings in pale pastels and with open wooden shutters glow in the sunlight. Pedestrians are bundled against the sea breeze as we drive along the waterfront.
Then, we stop in front of some Venetian buildings.
“Here,” says the driver in his limited English, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“Here?”
“Now you walk.” He gestures towards the Old Town.
I squint, and then we get out of the car. He brings suitcases out, and Miles pays him. Then, before I can worry about where here is exactly and where I’m meant to go, a familiar silhouette approaches. Stefanos, in a wool coat bundled to his chin for the chilly sea breeze, with a hat and sunglasses to match my own.
As the car drives off, Stefanos grins at me. “Hi. So you made it. Welcome to Kerkyra.”
I glance from him to the sea view to the Venetian buildings. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
He laughs. “Let’s go drop off your bag, and let me know if you want to rest or go find a meal or what you would like to do.”
“So where exactly am I staying?” I ask lightly, with a last pang of wayward anxiety. Stefanos doesn’t look any more nefarious today than the last time I saw him. “I’m going on faith here. A convenient dungeon?”
“Well, we do have a couple of ancient fortresses here…”
I side-eye him.
His eyes glimmer. “Okay, okay. No dungeon this time. Or prisons. We’re staying here in my family’s flat. My security stays in the adjoining flat. Very secure. Very safe. There’s plenty of space if you want to avoid me.”
“Ha. Hardly.”
“Or I could check you into a hotel if you prefer. There’s one up the street a couple of minutes away.”
“I’ll take my chances with you,” I say lightly.
He leads the way along the pavement to an imposing doorway and unlocks it. We head inside to a grand, cool foyer. “And here we are.”
Stefanos secures the door after us, punching in a code to a panel by the door. Then we head upstairs to an apartment with stunning water views through tall windows and a door to the balcony. It’s a mix of heritage features and a sleek, modern kitchen, which opens up to an expansive seating area. There’s something very peaceful about this place.
