Chapter 4
She was the sort of woman who turned heads everywhere she went, Angelos mused as he watched her cross the ballroom, her round hips rolling with every cat-like step of her high-heeled feet.
Her silky auburn hair flowing in waves over high, pert breasts.
Her mouth was plump and shining under dark red lip gloss like the ripe grapes that lined the dinner tables.
No other woman here could hold a candle to her sensual beauty.
Not even the stars in the sky shone as brightly as she did.
Who was she and why had he never seen her before?
- One Week with the Greek
CALLIE
T his was much worse than I had expected.
Gaz had warned me that the locals weren’t happy with the idea of the resort, but I hadn’t anticipated a welcoming committee composed of a group of macho assholes who clearly wanted to ship me out on the next ferry.
Their leader most of all. Yeah, I knew how to recognize the leader of a pack when I saw one, and this one had been trying to intimidate me since I stepped off the boat.
Slumped in his chair, tattooed biceps on display, hard chiseled jaw clenched under a five-o’clock shadow, staring at me with those dark eyes like he was sizing me up.
He was clearly the kingpin of this operation.
I’d ignored those annoying butterflies that had taken flight in my gut and channeled my inner goddess.
I would not let some smug small-town hotshot intimidate me. Not when I’d stood down some of the most powerful chefs in Europe, the kind that would rip you a new asshole if your plate wasn’t warm enough.
So no, he didn’t scare me. But he did make my pulse race in the most aggravating way.
I twisted my lips into a disdainful scowl and glared at those enormous shoulders. The muscles of his back were visible through his thin, sweat stained T-shirt, and his faded jeans hugged his slim hips and powerful legs.
“Get it together,” I whispered to my tingling body as I climbed the hundredth step.
“Pardon?” said Yiannis. With his floppy brown hair and large doe eyes, he was clearly the only nice one of the bunch.
He, at least, had helped me carry my suitcases.
The other one, that dark-eyed god of war, was twenty steps ahead of us, strolling leisurely up the rocks with his tight ass on display as I tried to concentrate on not tumbling backward into the rocky abyss.
Why had I worn my new Gucci heels? And why had I packed so goddamn much in my “self-care” suitcase? Right now, I was tempted to hurl it over the cliff.
I should have taken a donkey. Donkeys! Here I’d thought I’d call an Uber from the port . Right, Cal, a car service on an island of three hundred people. The donkey is the Uber here.
“Oh, shut up,” I mumbled at the voice in my head that sounded strangely like Levi.
Frustrated and out of breath, I dropped my suitcase at my feet. I needed to catch my breath. The sun was blazing down on my freckle-prone skin like it had a personal vendetta against me. “Can we stop for a minute?”
“Of course,” said Yiannis, who also looked relieved to set the other suitcase down. “I can carry that for you, if you are too tired.”
The other one deigned to look back down at us from the crest of the hill where he stood like the Colossus of Rhodes blocking out the sun. He was doing things to my insides that I just wasn’t okay with. I couldn’t stand looking at him, so I turned around to survey my new, temporary home.
The port seemed miles away now, the donkeys and the old men like little ants below. I had found it all vaguely charming as the ferry pulled in, even the rundown houses with their salt-battered shutters. Okay, Santorini it was not, but it did have its own rustic charm.
But now it just seemed alien and hostile. I couldn’t even appreciate the sun reflecting off the turquoise sea.
“How much farther is it?” I panted, picking up my suitcase.
“A few more minutes only.” Yiannis smiled, but I heard the apprehension in his voice. It was as if he was trying to hide something.
“Let’s go then.” I breezed past him, waving him off when he reached for my suitcase.
We got farther and farther away from the main town, passing an old windmill, a couple of horses, some rusty barrels, and several decaying houses, their white clay walls baked and cracking in the sun.
Then we reached a flat plateau, where goats were grazing on dried, brown scrub.
In the distance, perched on an even higher cliff, there was an ancient-looking ruin like you’d find on Delphi. It was both spooky and intriguing.
“What’s that?” I nodded toward the imposing stone columns.
“The temple of Aphrodite. It is in ruins,” explained Yiannis.
“Yeah, I can see that,” I deadpanned.
I continued following them across the arid plateau, overgrown with dried grass, far, far away from any other habitation toward what I can only describe as another ruin.
A stone hut basically, half covered by a gnarled cedar that was leaning to the side.
I wasn’t even sure it had a real roof. More like a mix of corrugated metal and straw.
“This is the house,” Yiannis announced as we drew up to the rickety front door.
Goddammit, Gaz ! He had told me to expect something rustic, but I wasn’t counting on a dilapidated hovel. I wanted to cry. What the hell was I doing here? I was tempted to turn on my heel and hightail it straight back to the ferry.
There was no way I was going to let on how lost I felt in front of these two though. The god of war grumbled in Greek at Yiannis, who pulled something from his pocket and handed it to me. “Here.”
I pinched the enormous, rusted key between my fingers. “Oh, seriously?” I let out a hysterical laugh. “Good to know I can lock the door while someone climbs in through the roof.”
I stepped inside and let my eyes adjust to the somber interior. The air was stale with a slight odor of . . . goat? I closed my eyes, willing myself to be strong.
You’re not allowed to cry about this . My inner pep-talk voice warned me. Think of your career.
Taking a series of deep calming breaths, I opened my eyes and let them wander around the shack that was to be my new home for the next few weeks.
Dust motes floated in the rays of light streaming through the window. And through the cracks in the stone wall. The sofa was some sort of wicker contraption with a few old, tatty cushions thrown on it. There was a worn wooden shipping crate in the middle of the room in the guise of a table.
I turned back to face my charming hosts. My first instinct was to demand to be taken elsewhere, but the expression on that smug bastard’s face made me hold my tongue. I recognized that look—the one that said I couldn’t handle this.
“Can we get you anything? There is food at the market behind the taverna. I can get you coffee, bread . . .” Yiannis trailed off his eyes flicking between his friend and me.
“Thank you, but I’m too tired to eat.” I tried not to sound as defeated as I felt. “I’m supposed to meet with a government agent tomorrow at the construction site. Do you know how I can get there?”
“Er, at the port. A boat will take you.” He glanced at his friend, who just stood there staring at me like he wanted to eat me. A shiver of excitement ran up my spine and I thanked God for my padded bra, or my humiliating arousal would have been visible through my dress.
“See you tomorrow then. Goodbye.” I hustled them out and fell back against the wall listening to their footsteps in the dirt.
Once they’d gone, I slid to the floor, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes and willing myself once again not to cry.
I had to stay positive about all this. It was only temporary.
Once I got the permit settled, I’d focus on getting another place.
Sure, this place was dark and drab, but I’d clean it up and decorate tomorrow.
I had lots of scented candles, and I’d even brought some sage and incense which would eradicate the slight odor of goat lingering in the air.
There was no TV, but no biggie because I couldn’t understand Greek, and the reception would probably suck. Anyway, I had my books.
Speaking of which. I dragged my smaller suitcase into the living room (if you could call it that) and pulled them out one by one, placing them on the makeshift table.
Then I set out a photo of my parents in front of the camping car they were currently driving around the Netherlands on their retirement tour of Europe.
The photo of Liv, Levi, and me in front of the Globe Theatre in London was next.
Seeing their smiling faces comforted me.
I wished I could talk to them, but since I had no reception on my phone, I’d just have to imagine what they’d say: You’ve got this, fearless .
A quick tour of the rest of the tiny place revealed a bathroom with a broken mirror and, miraculously, running water. Cold running water, but a working tap, nonetheless. I could always boil it on the stove.
Except that there was no stove. The tiny kitchen didn’t have a fridge either, just a table and a half-broken chair and some weird plates hanging on the wall.
“Okay, Gaz, hilarious joke. How the hell am I supposed to prepare a menu for your investors without a kitchen?” I kicked the wall in disgust and coughed as I dislodged more dust.
The bedroom wasn’t much better; a simple mattress on the floor covered by a thin sheet. Fantastic. At least my vibrator didn’t care where I used it. He was a cheap date. And to think I hesitated to bring it.
I emptied the rest of my “self-care” suitcase, stacking my romance books next to the bed and slipping on my lilac silk pajama set.
I hung my Stevie Nicks concert poster over the bed.
A kind of talisman, it had hung over every bed that I’d owned from high school bedroom to my Brixton flat.
Then I spritzed my pillow with lavender oil and wrapped myself in the soft knit blanket that my grandmother had made me a few years ago.
Finally, gripping One Week with the Greek to my chest, I collapsed on the thin mattress.
Through the window, the breathtaking view of the crumbling columns of the temple with the sun setting behind it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I had a weird feeling that if I listened hard enough, I could hear it whispering to me.