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"Where is Jamie Jr. going to sleep?" I reply.

He laughs at the absurdity. At the thought we’d ever trust each other enough to have a child.

"We need to meet Yorgos. See if he’ll show us a more expensive property. The realtor is eager to please,” he says.

Right. We’re not here to play house. We’re here on business. I’m here to make sure Yorgos is a dead end.

That’s doable.

“You ask her. She thinks you’re cute,” I say.

So we do.

The realtor gushes over our brilliant idea. She calls Yorgos right away. I give him the name I used then.

Yorgos invites us to join him at a party he’s hosting tonight, at his place outside the city.

I need to break away for a few hours to contact my handler to give Yorgos a heads-up.

But somehow Matteo senses this.

He keeps me busy all day.

And, well, I could say no. I could push it. I could do the smart thing and make sure my operation comes first.

But where’s the fun in that?

We take turns trying out the cell that supposedly housed Socrates, sending each other glances that say this is where you really want me, isn’t it?

Then we hike Philopappos Hill, take in the view of Athens, kiss like we’re not considering how we’re going to betray each other.

Then it’s a traditional Greek dinner of lamb stew, a long walk home in the quiet night air, trading bites of gelato from a place near our hotel. My blood orange sorbet is perfectly balanced. Matteo’s subtle pistachio too.

In our hotel room, I find five minutes to check my status report while he showers, but there’s nothing there, and I don’t have time to formulate a long reply to my handler. Only a short note.

In Athens on a lead. Plan to make contact with an old source. I have Matteo right where I want him.

Matteo steps out of the bathroom in only a towel, a sly smile on his lips, as if he knows he’s a step ahead of me.

It should scare me.

Instead, it turns me on.

Chapter

Sixteen

MATTEO

I help Jamie inside the sleek luxury sedan and slide in after her.

When I close the door, we’re alone in the cool, quiet space.

Sure, the driver is up front, but he’s a pro. He pretends we’re not here.

I pretend I’m not thinking about how gorgeous she looks in the soft light of dusk.

She's in a different femme fatale mode today. Light makeup. Nude heels. Sexy cream dress. Between the plunging neckline and high slit, she looks like a Bond girl on her wedding day.