Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
When I come out of the guest room after my call to find Stefanos, he’s still hidden away in his room.
I can hear his voice amid long pauses. Low.
Urgent. Straining my ears to listen in, I hear another Greek conversation.
Presumably with his father, judging by the tone, and what’s likely a very long, very grueling phone call.
I find some sparkling water and sit on the sofa, but he’s not out after thirty minutes, or forty minutes either.
Time is getting on well into the evening.
Given the excruciatingly early start, I ought to pack and get ready for bed.
After leaving Stefanos a note on the island about the flight time tomorrow and when I’ll leave his flat in the morning, I retreat to my room to go to bed.
Lying in bed without talking to Stefanos again tonight feels like I’ve failed entirely.
It’s bad enough to sink a man’s yacht—and it’s even worse to not be able to talk about it after.
Then again, he probably doesn’t want to hear my apologies.
Or remember he invited me here in the first place or think he should have listened to Aidan’s diatribe online as a warning about me.
I sigh, heavy. After a very long time, still trying to listen for any signs of life in the living room that don’t come, I fall asleep.
Blearily, I go through the routine of getting ready and dressed.
Four a.m. isn’t unfamiliar to me—except that’s the time I’m more likely to be getting home than starting my day.
Every last cell in my body protests at the indignity.
The quick shower helps bring me to proper consciousness.
When I step out of my room with my compact suitcase, I do a double take at the sight of Stefanos in a fitted long-sleeve navy blue T-shirt and shorts in the kitchen.
His legs, I can’t help but notice, are enviably toned, and I can’t help but wonder what the rest of him looks like under his clothes.
Not that I’m going to find out.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and the heady combo with Stefanos’ nearness brings me to full alertness.
He gives me a wry smile and gestures at the coffee. “Milk or sugar? I know you Londoners do all kinds of wild things to your Americanos.”
I perch on a stool, taking a moment to memorize this sight forever, Stefanos looking sleep-rumpled, making a coffee for me. “Splash of milk, one sugar. You?”
“Black. Espresso.” He sits down beside me once he’s prepared the coffee the way I like it, sliding the mug over.
We’re quiet. I sip my coffee. It’s perfect. I give him a sidelong glance. “I can’t believe you woke up at this time to see me off. Or made me coffee.”
Stefanos blinks in surprise. “Of course I did. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t?”
“I figured there were different post-game rules after a man has sunk another man’s yacht.” I tilt my head, my voice a murmur.
Stefanos gazes at me. “It does complicate things, I’ll admit. But you’re still my guest. For a few more minutes. The follow-through’s important.”
A wry smile crosses my lips. “I even booked the taxi last night, along with everything else.”
He nods.
“I’m very sorry about what happened. With the yacht. I feel so awful. And about leaving you here to deal with it. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.” I search his eyes, my voice low.
“I’m sorry too.” Stefanos gives me a half smile.
“I wish there was a way I could make this up to you, though I imagine you’ve had enough of me.” With a heavy heart, I consider the smooth planes of Stefano’s face, the curve of his lips, his lingering glance that doesn’t waver. Which does something irreparable to my insides.
“It’s probably best we’re not seen together after this,” Stefanos says softly. “My father’s already planning my murder. You don’t want him planning yours too. Especially with what’s in front of you this summer. That would leave the Danes in a situation, down two heirs.”
The reminder prompts a shudder down my spine before I can suppress it.
My fingers trace the handle of my handmade ceramic mug.
A great reminder of how my cousin is an even more unsuitable king than I am.
The scandal could bring down the monarchy.
And I definitely don’t want to disappoint my own father’s memory like that.
“Yeah. What are you going to do? What are we going to do?”
“You,” Stefanos says carefully, “will go back to London. I will stay here and wait for my father. And after a few days, we will return to New York.”
We finish our coffees. Stefanos walks me to the front door of his flat across the expanse of white tile. I hold on to my suitcase’s handle, hesitating. He’s within arm’s reach as I turn to face him.
“I wish this had all happened differently,” I whisper. My voice catches. So much for being suave and unflappable. I’ve got more flap than I know what to do with right now as my heart thunders. “I liked you very much.”
“I liked you very much too,” Stefanos confesses, searching my eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot. There’s something sad in his gaze.
We both start as my phone buzzes with the taxi’s arrival outside, caught in a moment.
And then, I lean forward like I had back in the yacht before everything went wrong.
Except this time, there’s nothing left to sink.
I draw a steadying breath, and with the last scraps of courage, I lightly brush my lips against his.
Stefanos’ mouth burns. He catches my arm, pulling me close.
Fuck. He’s heavenly as he trembles in anticipation. For me. Wanting me. It’s more than I can stand. And, apparently, he’s having the same problem.
A soft kiss turns into something much hungrier in an instant.
I bury my fingers in Stefanos’ hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly. He groans, then pushes me hard against the door with a thud, just as eager. A moan escapes me, wanting him more badly than I need oxygen. Blood pounds in my ears.
And then we both stop kissing abruptly, gasping as we stare at each other. My fingers tighten slightly in Stefanos’ hair, my other hand on his chest.
“I—I can’t—” Stefanos says urgently, staring at me.
I swallow hard, searching Stefanos’ eyes, trying to get my bearings again from the ecstasy of kissing him. Of the incredible way it feels to have his body pressed against mine. His heat radiates.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll miss you, Stef.” I rake my fingers along his jaw, releasing him, but not before I feel him shiver against me, and I shiver too. Everything in my body blazes for him at this moment.
“Your taxi,” Stefanos whispers. He reaches out to trace my cheekbone, and I shudder at his warm touch. “You don’t want to be late for your flight.”
“Yeah.”
I forgot all about the flight.
With reluctance, I make myself pull away, unsteady. I open the door, give him a glance over my shoulder. He leans in the doorway, watching me. And I head off to catch my flight before the sun rises over Kerkyra. It’s the last thing I want to do.