Slightly Reckless (Irresistible #1)

1. Tia

“I don’t care how grown you think you are. You’re half a million miles from home—”

Not even close, but sure, let’s go with dramatic. “It’s like five thousand miles, Mom,” I said, adjusting my headphones. “Greece is less than five thousand miles from the United States. It’s not like I took a shuttle to Mars.”

I heard my mother make a small sound as she dismissed my correction of her dramatic overestimate. She was given to hyperbole, and we both knew it.

“And FYI,” I added, because I couldn’t help myself, “I’m twenty-two, Mom. Got a degree, a passport and a plane ticket. I think that counts as grown.”

Not even being in my twenties and earning a degree in architecture could convince my mother, Deanna, I could look after myself. My childhood illness and constant hospital stays had branded her with a permanent fear I couldn’t shake.

When I’d chosen to attend college in New York, she’d packed up and followed me there, finding an apartment fifteen minutes from campus “just in case.” Four years of higher education and thirteen years without a relapse hadn’t granted me independence. Just a longer leash.

She kept going. “It’s not like you’re on vacation in Florida, sweetheart. This is a foreign country with an entirely different culture, language, food…”

Mom was still processing the fact I’d applied for my passport and booked this entire trip without telling her until a week before departure. The look on her face when I’d casually mentioned over dinner I was heading to Greece with my college roommate had been a mix of shock and horror.

I shifted my weight, the dusty gravel crunching beneath my sandals as I tried not to roll my eyes. A gentle breeze carried the distinct scent of sun-baked earth .

I decided not to tell her I was at the moment walking alone along a road just outside of Athens, where ancient olive trees twisted toward the sky. In the distance, the Acropolis rose in a postcard-perfect view, which was all mine for the moment.

After last night’s party, I needed this fresh air.

Kat and I had gone out with her old friends, and she’d drunk way too much when she realized her ex wouldn’t attend the party. This morning, she begged me to stay in, whining about her headache, hangover, and how the sun was personally attacking her .

But the idea of wasting a whole day in bed—especially in Greece—felt wasteful. I wanted to experience the landscape on my own.

“I’ve got Kat and Google to help me translate, her family’s driver to take me around, and the food is absolutely delicious.

” I should have grabbed my sunglasses before leaving the villa because the sun was blinding.

“And lots of Greeks speak English,” I added.

“Besides, Katalina’s family has been amazing. ”

I didn’t mention how strange it felt being here without Tammy, who should have been with us. The three of us had planned this trip together—me, Kat, and Tammy—our post-graduation adventure .

Six months ago, that dream had shattered with a 3 AM phone call and funeral arrangements. Being here now felt like keeping a promise, even if Tammy couldn’t see me fulfill it.

“Stick to crowded places and you’ll be okay. Don’t accept anything to eat or drink from strangers, don’t get into cars with men or women you don’t know. Don’t trust anyone…”

“Mommm…” I groaned, dragging out the ‘o’ like a whiny kid, but honestly, could you blame me? She meant well, but her attention was suffocating with her constant hovering.

What she said next was straight out of left field. “Your father called.”

Mom waited for a reaction. I had none. She kept talking. “Ashley left him. He’s moving back to town with your two siblings.” Pause. “He wants to reconnect.”

Nope. Not today, Satan.

The sun was brutal, and I was already sweating through my shirt. I did not want to think of my father or have this conversation.

Mom pressed me further. “Baby? Did you hear what I said?”

My grip tightened on the phone. Mom meant well—she always did. Still, yelling at her was not worth it.

Okay, Tia, just breathe. Count backward from ten .

Ten, nine, eight… please don’t let her keep pushing.

I had no interest in rekindling any “relationship” such as it was with the man who’d abandoned me and never looked back.

I saw my twelve-year-old self fighting back the tears … and failing to do so … as my father explained to me, almost matter-of-factly, that his priority was his new wife, and new family.

“Your siblings are younger and need me more than you do,” he said. “I need to make them my priority right now. ”

“Mom, I can’t talk about him. Not now. Can we… just not?”

Mom sighed. “I understand, baby,” she finally said. “I shouldn’t have pushed. Your feelings about your father are your own, and I need to respect that.”

Wait—what? That’s it? No lecture on forgiveness?

“It’s just that…” she continued, “I remember how close you two were before he married Ash — before everything happened. But you’re right. You’re an adult now, and these are your decisions to make.”

The knot in my chest loosened. “Thank you.”

We chatted for a few more minutes about her plans to travel to St. Lucia with her best friend the next day.

She made me promise to text her every morning and at night before bed, her usual insurance policy against worry.

After we said our goodbyes, I did a small spin and inhaled a deep breath of freedom .

The road stretched empty before me, curving around the hillside in a tempting ribbon of asphalt. I pulled out my phone and propped it against my tote bag on a nearby rock, carefully angling it to capture both me and the sweeping landscape behind.

I scrolled through my music, selecting something with a heavy beat, then stepped back into the frame. No way I’m posting this. It’s strictly for the camera roll.

I began to dance, not the childish TikTok choreography I’d planned, but something more sensual. My hips swayed as I ran my hands down my sides, over my curves. I twisted my body, letting the music guide me, embracing the fullness of my figure.

If Kat were here, she’d probably smirk and ask how many calories I thought I was burning, or make some offhand comment about my body taking up more space than hers.

But there was no Kat now. Just me, the music, and the open road.

I lost myself in the rhythm, my body moving in ways that would have made my mother gasp. I tossed my head back, laughing at my boldness.

The growl of an engine swelled behind me. A sleek black car whipped around the bend, hurtling straight toward me. Tires screamed as it fishtailed across the asphalt .

A shot of cold terror ran through me. Move, Tia. Move. But my muscles locked, every instinct screaming at me to run, yet my legs refused to budge. I stood frozen, breath trapped in my throat, watching death barrel closer in slow motion.

The car swerved violently away from me, veering off the road. It teetered for one heart-stopping moment at the edge of the steep embankment, rocks, and dirt crumbling beneath its tires.

My feet were rooted to the spot, my breath caught somewhere between my ribs and throat. My body refused to move.

You should run. Run away, now.

But I didn’t.

The car groaned, metal straining, the whole frame trembling like it knew it wasn’t meant to stay perched there much longer.

My heart was pounding in my ears. Call for help. Stay safe. Let someone else deal with this.

I took one step forward.

Tia, what are you doing?

Another step.

I could return to Kat’s and pretend I hadn’t seen it. But then I thought—what if no one else comes?

What if he’s hurt? What if he dies and I do nothing?

The thought lodged deep in my chest. I couldn’t live with that .

I knew fear. I’d grown up with it, lived in hospitals with it, watched it in my mother’s eyes every time I so much as coughed. And I wasn’t going to be the girl who stood still when someone needed help.

Tearing off my headphones, I sprinted toward the wreckage with shaky legs and burning lungs. My rational mind screamed to retrieve my phone and call for help, but some deeper instinct propelled me forward.

I reached for the driver door handle, yanking with desperate strength. It resisted, groaning against its bent frame until I threw my full weight backward. The door gave way with a metallic shriek.

“Sorry, I know this probably hurts, but you have to move, okay? Please.” Wow, I sounded way calmer than I felt.

The man stirred, raising his head groggily. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow, but his eyes were shockingly blue. The car shifted beneath us, inching further over the edge.

“We don’t have much time,” I urged, unbuckling his seatbelt with shaking hands. “Can you move?”

He mumbled something unintelligible, but turned toward me. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, bracing my feet against the door frame as I pulled. The car made an ominous creaking sound, rocks skittering down the embankment beneath it .

With strength I didn’t know I possessed, I dragged him from the driver’s seat just as the car tipped.

We stumbled backward, falling onto the road as the vehicle surrendered to gravity.

It tumbled down the cliff with a sickening series of crashes, metal crumpling against stone until it finally came to rest among the trees below.

We lay on the hot asphalt, our chests heaving in unison. The man’s weight pressed against me where he’d landed half on top of me in our fall. I could feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong, against my breast.

“You saved my life,” he murmured, his accent rich and melodic despite his breathlessness.

Before I could respond, he pushed himself up, looking down at me with those impossible blues. A wild, daring glint flashed across his face. The look of a man who’d just cheated death and felt invincible because of it.

Without warning, he crushed his lips against mine.

My first kiss. And it was stolen—pressed against my lips by a stranger.

For a split second, I froze, stunned. His lips were warm and soft, and my body betrayed me. My hands, meant to push him away, curled into his shirt instead. I wasn’t just letting it happen, I was responding.

I liked it .

What kind of girl melts into a kiss from a dude who nearly killed her? What did that say about me? Was I really so starved for connection that I’d let a stranger assault me with his lips?

His mouth moved against mine with urgency, and I let myself experience the heat, the excitement and the way my heart thundered.

He pulled away and smiled, like we’d just shared something magical. “I’ve never kissed a Black girl before,” he whispered, voice husky with wonder.

The words shattered whatever spell I’d been under.

My stomach twisted. Great. I was a bucket list item.

Shame burned up my neck. Not just at him, but for letting him kiss me. For wanting it. For not stopping it the moment it started.

“Oh,” I managed, pushing him away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking my hand. “That came out terribly wrong. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly,” I replied, extracting my fingers from his and getting to my feet.

There was something familiar about him, though I couldn’t place it. His clothes were expensive, and his watch was probably worth more than my entire education.

“My father will be furious about the car. That’s the third one this year,” he announced as he attempted to stand .

Hold up.

“The third one this year? It’s only June.” My voice came out stronger than I expected. “You’ve totaled three cars in six months and you’re worried about your father being angry rather than the fact you could have died? Or killed someone else?”

His expression shifted, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he ran a hand through his disheveled golden hair. The blood from his cut had dried, making him look like a warrior fresh from battle.

“You’re right,” he said, his accented voice softening as his eyes locked with mine. “I’m being an ass.” He stepped closer, moving with casual grace despite having just survived a crash. “What’s your name, aggelé mou?” he asked.

The screech of tires shattered the air before I could answer. A black SUV skidded to a halt inches from where we stood. Gravel sprayed against my ankles.

A tall man in an impeccably tailored suit stepped out of the SUV, surveying the scene.

His eyes landed briefly on me before fixing on Mr. Reckless , and he began speaking rapidly in Greek.

I couldn’t understand the words, but the man’s demeanor reminded me of Secret Service agents I’d seen in movies.

I scanned the area for my belongings. My headphones lay in the road about ten feet away, still pulsing with music. I walked over and snatched them up, brushing off dirt before placing them around my neck.

My phone remained propped against my tote where I’d left it, still recording. The screen showed a sixteen-minute video. Evidence of my dance, the crash and my sprint toward danger. I quickly stopped the recording and pocketed the device.

As I shouldered my purse, Mr. Reckless broke away from the suited man and approached me.

“Wait, aggelé mou, you can’t leave yet,” he called, effortlessly switching back to English.

“I’m Chrysanthos.” He gestured toward the man.

“That’s my uncle. Let me take you wherever you need to go. It’s the least I can do.”

I touched my lips involuntarily, still feeling the pressure of his kiss.

“No thanks,” I replied. “I should go.”

“Please,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “At least tell me your name?”

I hesitated. Should I tell him my real name?

“Tia,” I said, and instantly regretted it.

Smooth, girl. Just hand over your real name to the hot Greek guy who nearly mowed you down. Why not throw in your social security number too?

His smile was dazzling, genuine. “Tia,” he repeated, as if testing the feel of it on his tongue. “I hope to see you again, aggelé mou.”