Chapter 12
Cara was so tired. From the early start this morning, to the phone call with her mother, to being part of a sexy stage act, drinking dirty-named cocktails, to now. What she wanted to do was crawl into that lavish bed at Cook’s Club and let the high thread count sheets ease her towards a long deep sleep. Except Margot never left anywhere before 2a.m. unless it was under a police escort. Yes, she could leave her aunt and get a taxi back alone but, well, she never did that. Not since Moldova.
She walked up the rise, past a rather grand-looking arched entrance to a Starbucks and crossed the street. Motorbikes and cars were lined up, parked in every available space, taxis waited next to blue and green bins, then ahead was a pedestrianised area, trees lining the avenue, all colours of flowers blooming around marble statues, and further away was the imposing rock of the old fortress.
She sat down on a bench, closed her eyes and took in a long slow breath.
‘Signomi. Do you take confession?’
She snapped her eyes open and there was Akis standing right in front of her. There was no mask covering any of his face now but those eyes – a little bit blue, part green with a hint of amber were still the standout. He was also no longer wearing anything connected with the priesthood. But the jeans and white T-shirt combo was a good look. So good it was hard not to remember his body in super-close proximity to hers only a couple of hours ago.
‘Apparently everyone around here has some kind of right to offer that,’ she snapped.
He smiled. ‘You’re still mad at me.’
‘Oh, you think?’
She was mad. And she didn’t really get mad these days. She didn’t really get emotional about anything. It had been part of her recovery. Shutting off the kind of sensors that destroyed your equilibrium.
He sat down next to her and suddenly the bench felt small. His knee touched hers and then he quickly adjusted, drew it back.
‘So, what are you more mad about?’ he asked. ‘Your assumption that just because I was in a church I was a priest? Or the fact my sister managed to make you part of the show?’
‘Oh, please tell me I wasn’t part of the show when I was trying so hard to make myself part of the stage floor.’
He laughed then and the sound hit the air like the sweetest birdsong. That was weird…
‘I’m Akis,’ he introduced, holding out his hand.
‘Wow, your hand,’ Cara said. ‘It just feels a little off as you’ve already offered other more intimate parts of your body in my direction.’
‘And you very much turned them down, so I thought we’d go back to basics.’
She took his hand and he held tight.
‘I’m Cara,’ she said. Suddenly, with his hand in hers, the humidity was rising. And she needed to get a grip. What was it Margot always said about winning the war of conversation? Straight out of the bunker and charge!
‘Actually,’ Cara began. ‘You did impress me. With the way you played the piano.’
‘Seriously?’ he asked, shaking his head.
‘What? You don’t want people to compliment your musical skills?’
‘No. It’s just… no one has.’ He shrugged. ‘The piano isn’t really what the people come for.’
‘Well, it should be.’
‘And, if I am honest, tonight wasn’t the best I have played. But, perhaps it was the best I have played since my brother’s accident.’
He held out his left hand and waggled three fingers and a thumb. He was missing a pinkie.
‘Sorry,’ Cara said immediately. ‘I mean, not sorry that you lost your finger, well, I am sorry about that, obviously, but I’m just trying to work out how someone plays that incredibly with something quite vital missing.’
‘Perhaps a few of those notes were hit with a more inappropriate part of my body.’
Irritatingly, she could do nothing to stop the full-on body flush that was now cocooning her like the very best sleeping bag Mountain Warehouse had to offer.
‘I am joking with you,’ he said, nudging her leg with his. ‘It takes practice and I am meant to do lots of different exercises that I should take time to do but, you know, I am a busy man and, as I said, most people do not come to see what I can do with my hands.’ He winked then. ‘Although Horatio always thinks we should sell tickets for after-show exclusive access for that.’
She was still blushing. Why did this guy simply say whatever was on his mind with no filter?
‘I don’t think that sounds like very priestlike behaviour,’ she told him.
He lowered his head into her space. ‘And you would be right.’
Her phone vibrated in her bag and she took a second to enforce a break in the tension and take it out.
‘My aunt,’ she said. ‘Asking where I am.’
‘Are you on parole?’ Akis asked, an eyebrow raised.
‘No. She just, you know, worries about me.’
He nodded. ‘Like you are ten years old.’
‘Not at all like that.’
Except there were taps of movement in her gut like a fiesta of grasshoppers were parading, suggesting Akis may be right. And she hated that.
‘So, you want to go somewhere?’ he asked.
‘With you?’
‘I promise I won’t get on top of you again.’ He grinned. ‘Without your permission, at least.’
This was crazy. She wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep. She should go back to Margot and the others. But there was a flicker of something inside her that was calling her to question these options and pick something else.
‘I don’t usually go anywhere with strangers.’ She was taking her time.
‘Please, you have met my mother, my sister, my soon-to-be sister-in-law and my grandmother. No one I have dated has even met so much of my family.’
It was ‘she shouldn’t’ versus ‘she wanted to’.
‘Come on,’ Akis said, nudging her knee again. ‘This is a small seed. It doesn’t even need planting.’
She stood up. ‘Well, where are we going?’
‘Not to church,’ he answered. ‘Come on.’