Chapter 1
Going away on yourown was meant to be fun, at least that’s what Miriam told me two days after being dumped by my fiancé.
“Forget that bastard, Cassie. He’s not worth a second thought. You paid for the honeymoon. Take it and go and get laid. There’s no way you’re giving Mick the vacation for him and his tart to enjoy. You paid for the trip to Greece, you enjoy it.”
That’s why she was my best friend. Miriam was always on my side and right now, I needed her unconditional support to help my broken heart. The thing was, I didn’t feel as brokenhearted as I expected. Since he told me he didn’t love me or want to get married, at least not to me, I’d just felt numb, as if I was wrapped in soft cotton and couldn’t break free.
I stared gloomily into my red wine. That was another thing that had changed. Mick had always ordered me a white wine spritzer. There was nothing wrong with it except I hated white wine. I was an idiot really. I’d let him order my drinks, order my food, tell me what to wear and how to style my hair. What was I thinking? I’d never been that kind of girl. I’d been independent from the start. My mom told me that right from the day I was born I had been the one in charge of their relationship. It wasn’t true, but I knew what she meant. Yet I’d let Mick steamroller over me. I don’t think I noticed how much I’d changed until he wasn’t in my life.
“Hey, where are you?”
Miriam patted my hand and I realize I’ve been lost in thought.
“You could come with me,” I suggested.
She shook her head, her dark curls slipping from the clip atop her head. “I’d love to, hon. But work is all kinds of crazy right now.”
Miriam was a designer for a top name haute couture brand. My slightly crazy friend could make a crumpled piece of fabric look a million dollars. She’d insisted on making my wedding dress. In this scenario I’d been the crumpled piece of fabric. We’d been in the middle of the final fitting when Mick dropped the bombshell two weeks before the wedding. I thought she’d be furious; she’d put so much time into it. But she put her arms around me and told me that she would design another wedding dress for me for the man who treated me right. I cried on her shoulder until she complained she didn’t want arthritis and why didn’t we get drunk instead. That sounded like a fabulous idea.
“It won’t be the same by myself,” I grumbled.
“I don’t know.” She winked at me. “I’ve had plenty fun going away by myself.”
That was the difference between Miriam and me. I’d never met a thing she was afraid of. She launched herself into everything with the same ferocity that I’d known since the day we met, the day she smacked Jeremy Barnes in the face in tenth grade for making fun of my hair. She was suspended for a month for that, but he got a broken nose. She considered the month off well worth it, binging Project Catwalk.
“I’ll be so bored. I’m going to call you, every five minutes,” I warned.
She grunted, like she didn’t believe it for a minute.
But I would call her because I’d be bored from the moment I arrived. Two weeks on my own to brood over my not-honeymoon was such a bad idea.
“Cheer up, kiddo.” Miriam nudged my shoulder. “Sun, sea, sand, booze, and Greek men. What more do you want?”
“A lotto win?” I suggested.
She winked at me. “Miracles happen, kiddo.”
* * *
I was the only onewho got off the shuttle from the airport for my hotel. The driver handed me my case and I stumbled into Hotel Milaras, half asleep. I had no idea what the exact time was. It was dark and I was exhausted. I needed my bed.
The lobby was quiet apart from a man having a heated discussion at the desk. Mick and I had spent hours choosing the right venue for our honeymoon. I’d always dreamed of going to Greece. Mick insisted we go Las Vegas because he wanted to play the slot machines, but I knew better than to let him anywhere near a casino. He had a gambling addiction although he refused to admit it. I’d begged and pleaded, and he agreed reluctantly to go to Europe as it was our honeymoon. I guess I should consider myself lucky I wasn’t facing two weeks in Vegas.
I was too tired to pay much attention to my surroundings as I stumbled to the desk. It was only when I was faced with the pity in the eyes of the receptionist that I realized I’d forgotten to tell them that this wasn’t my honeymoon, and I was coming by myself.
“You know it’s the honeymoon suite,” the receptionist told me. She had glossy dark hair I would kill for. At some point I’d have to ask her what she did because even Miriam would be envious.
“He...uh...we’re not together anymore,” I managed. “He dumped me.”
The furious discussion next to me faltered for one second and I turned to see a frankly edible guy, dark hair, dark eyes, tanned olive skin and a body like a Hollywood action movie star, staring at me with the same pitying expression everyone gave me when I stumbled out the explanation. Then he turned back to the receptionist who shrank away. I hadn’t focused on their conversation, but it was something to do with a burst pipe. How on earth I understood ‘burst pipe’ in Greek, I have no idea, but my hours and hours on the language app had clearly paid off.
I had the choice to do one of two things faced with spending two weeks on my own in the honeymoon suite. Stiffen my spine or cry. From the way my eyes filled with tears, it looked as if the latter was going to win. I saw the panic in her face as one tear broke free and rolled down my cheek.
“Can’t you put me anywhere else?” I begged.
“I’m sorry, we’re full tonight, but you have the best suite in the hotel,” she said earnestly.
I nodded because I knew this was true. I sniffled and held my hand out for the room key. I”d make the most of it while I was here, even if I spent the entire two weeks curled up in the honeymoon bed sobbing my heart out.
Yeah, the second I walked into the suite, I knew I was going to cry. It was everything a newly married couple would have loved. Decorated in pure white with turquoise accents, the bedroom was huge, and led through to a lounge with two over-stuffed sofas, piled with cushions. I sniffled at the bottle of champagne with two glasses on the coffee table. I’d arranged that for us.
The honeymoon suite had its own private balcony and pool, not overlooked by anyone else so you could skinny dip if you wanted to. Mick and I had waggled our eyebrows at each other at that. No wonder he wanted to bring his girlfriend here. That was the part I couldn’t bring myself to tell Miriam. I knew she’d explode when I told her Mick had demanded I hand over the tickets for our honeymoon so he could take his new girlfriend with him.
I took a deep breath. I needed to forget my lying, cheating, very ex-fiancé. I”d spend the next two weeks getting a perfect tan. I tipped the guy who”d brought my case up and collapsed onto the bed. I needed to sleep and possibly not move for a week. Tears leaked from my eyes again. What on earth was I doing here? I needed to be at home surrounded by my things.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, somebody thumped on the door so hard the room shook. I cracked open my eyes to find it was lighter outside. Squinting, I shuffled over to the door and opened it, narrowly avoiding a fist in my face. The woman snatched her hand back, an embarrassed expression on her face. Was she the other receptionist that I”d seen earlier? As the same movie handsome guy stood behind her, I went with yes. I studied him, noting the way his brows knit together, and it looked as if a storm was brewing in his dark eyes.
“Miss Carstairs. I’m sorry to bother you. We have a slight problem and I wonder if you could help.” The receptionist launched into her speech. “We”ve got a broken pipe in one of the rooms.”
“My room,” he said pointedly.
“And it’s the middle of the night,” she continued. “Well, it was, but now it’s daytime.”
I had no idea what time of day it was to be honest, or what this had to do with me.
“The plumber is coming,” she said with a hopeful smile. “He’s got a wedding to go to...uh...” She glanced at her watch. “Later today. But he’ll be here tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Mr. Milaras is without a room just overnight. The resort is full until tomorrow. Would you”d be willing to let Mr. Milaras sleep in the spare room until tomorrow? We would refund a night, of course.”
She had to be joking.
What came out of my mouth was “The honeymoon suite has a spare room?”, rather than the “You’ve got to be kidding me. You expect me to share with a strange man?” that I meant to say.
Back to the spare room. Were they expecting fights already?
“In case they bring children,” she assured me.
I looked dubiously at the angry man behind her. She must have caught my expression because she hastened to explain.
“Mr. Milaras is one of our top executives. He is trustworthy.”
She was begging the ground to open her up and swallow her whole. His scowl grew deeper at my lack of response. I studied him. He had to be about thirty. Young to be a top executive.
“This is ridiculous,” he barked in a posh English accent I didn’t expect. Kind of Jane Austen style. “I can”t stay here with a strange woman.”
I wasn”t sure how I felt at being referred to as ‘a strange woman’, all Mr. Darcy derision, but I appreciated his sentiment.
“I can’t—” I started but she interrupted me.
“There’s nowhere else in the resort until the families go home tomorrow. I’m sorry, Mr. Milaras. But Miss Carstairs has the only spare room and—”
I should have told them both where to go, but I caught the sudden tiredness in the way his shoulders slumped. He was as exhausted as I felt. “It’s just for tonight?”
“I’ll be out at a conference today,” he assured me and now I caught the hint of a Greek accent. “I need to clean up and nap a little this morning. And I won’t bother you this evening. I just need the bed.”
Oh, what the hell. I channeled my inner Miriam although I’m sure she didn’t expect me to meet Greek men via a burst pipe, and stepped back to give him access to the room. “Sure, why not.”
“Thank you,” the receptionist mouthed and virtually ran away, leaving me with a guy glaring at the mirror across the room.
“I’m going back to bed,” I announced.
He huffed and scowled at me. “I’m sorry. This is ridiculous. I’ll make sure you are compensated.”
“It’s the way my luck is going at the moment,” I assured him. “I’m just lucky it wasn’t my room with the burst pipe. You’re not a serial killer, are you?”
“No,” he said solemnly. “I deal in hotels, not dead bodies.”
“Good.” I was too tired to laugh. I yawned so wide my jaw cracked. “In that case, g’nite, Mr. Milaras. I’m jetlagged and sleep deprived. Not a good combination.”
“Nico. My name is Nico.” Then he yawned. “I know how you feel. I flew from Florida yesterday.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’m Cassie. Cassie Carstairs. But I guess you already know that.”
We stared at each other for a moment, then he waved at a door I hadn’t even looked at.
“I need to sleep for a couple of hours before I leave for the convention.”
I nodded and sat on the bed. He vanished inside the room, leaving me alone, staring at my hands.
“What did I just agree to?”
Sharing a room with a strange man, Cassie Carstairs. That’s what you agreed to.