2. Santo
I’d always believed my father was being dramatic when he claimed I’d be the death of him. But as I sat in the private hospital room with seven stitches above my eyebrow and Uncle Dimitrios hovering like an anxious shadow, I considered the possibility.
“Your father is on his way from Milan,” Dimitrios informed me, his voice carrying that blend of concern and resignation I’d become intimately familiar with over the years. “He’s... not pleased.”
I grinned, despite the throbbing in my head. “Is he ever?”
The painkillers were excellent, making everything seem amusing, including the imminent paternal wrath headed my way. But the drugs couldn’t distract me from the revelation that came to me the moment she’d pulled me from the wreckage.
Tia. Katalina’s American friend. The quiet one with the curves who’d stayed in the background at Nico’s party last night, watching everything with those observant eyes while Kat had flirted with every eligible bachelor in Athens.
I hadn’t paid much attention to her then, too busy avoiding Kat’s sight. Now I couldn’t think of anything else. Taking her would be both pleasure and the perfect punishment.
“You’re lucky I was driving back from the coastal factory today,” Dimitrios said, loosening his tie.
At thirty-six, my uncle was the youngest of my father’s brothers.
As COO of Olympus Motors, he understood cars, which made his next comment all the more damning.
“The Helios prototype is totaled. Completely. What were you thinking taking those curves at that speed? That car wasn’t even supposed to leave the compound, let alone be pushed to its limits on a public road! ”
“That’s what prototypes are for, Theío,” I replied with a wink that made him shake his head, though I caught the hint of a smile he tried to suppress. “How else are we supposed to know if it can handle real-world conditions?”
“One day that charm won’t save you,” he warned, but we both knew it wasn’t true .
Charm had gotten me out of trouble since I was old enough to talk, something my favorite uncle understood better than most. He’d covered for me more times than I could count.
“That car was meant to be the star of the Athens Motor Show next month. Your father is going to have your head.”
“We’ll build another one. Better. Maybe with improved handling on those mountain curves.”
My phone buzzed again. I glanced down at Katalina’s twentieth message of the day. Katalina and I had dated all through high school and I’d been in love with her. She’d been my first everything. We’d talked about marriage, children and had our entire future laid out before us.
Then exactly three years ago, just months after she’d left for college in America, she’d slept with Juan Vasquez, my biggest rival on the racing circuit.
The prick sent me a video of them together with screenshots of texts from Katalina saying I didn’t know what I was doing in bed and she’d been faking it since we were sixteen.
I’d ended things, citing the distance when she left for university. The perfect gentleman , everyone had said. So understanding about the challenges of a long-distance relationship.
No one knew the real reason we’d broken up.
I’d never told them about the humiliation, the self-doubt, the nights I’d lain awake wondering if every moan from Katalina had been fake.
How could I, Santos Christakis, golden boy of the Christakis family, admit I’d been made to feel inadequate in the most base way possible?
Santo, we need to talk. I miss you .
Please, just coffee? For old times’ sake?
A new message appeared as I watched.
I never understood why you ended things. We should try again.
I smirked, imagining her face when I finally got even. After years of planning the perfect revenge, it had literally pulled me to safety on a dusty road outside Athens. And from the taste of Tia’s lips and the fire in her eyes, this would be the most enjoyable payback ever.
I could feel my father’s glare before I sat down. Taking my place at the large table in the center of our family’s grand dining hall, I nodded at my gathered relatives.
The dining hall was already alive with the familiar sounds of my family. My uncle Dimitrios’s booming laugh, Uncle Konstantin’s lower tones, and the conspiratorial whispers of my Yiayia Domna and Theia Irida. We were all here except my cousin Matthaios, who lived abroad.
The scent of warm bread and honey wafted from silver platters, a comfort signaling an ordinary morning for the Christakis dynasty. If there was one thing my family took seriously beyond business, it was food.
“What did the doctor say?” my father, Aristides, pounced before I could sit.
“Mild concussion,” I replied, flashing a dismissive grin. “Nothing that will keep me off the track next week.”
“You look pale, agori mou,” Yiayia said softly, brushing my face with her fingers. “Your energy is all wrong.
“I’m fine, Yiayia,” I assured her, catching her fingers and pressing them to my lips.
“That bandage is misaligned,” Theia Irida observed, adjusting her glasses. “And your color’s off. You shouldn’t be upright.”
I held out my cup for the server hovering at my shoulder, inhaling the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee while buying time to formulate a response that would placate the matriarchs without revealing the stabbing pain in my side.
“How could you be this careless?” My father continued. “You could have gotten yourself killed! You destroyed a car that wasn’t even on the market yet.” His voice hardened, each word a hammer strike. “Have you no respect for the work that goes into building these machines?”
Dimitrios, intervened. “Santo has learned his lesson, Aris. The boy’s alive. That’s what matters.”
My father shot him an icy glare that would have frozen the Aegean in August. “Stay out of this.” He turned back to me, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “I would be planning a funeral right now if this American hadn’t pulled you to safety.”
He was right, though I’d never admit it aloud. I’d come frighteningly close to meeting my mother yesterday. In that split second when the car went airborne, teetering at the edge of the cliff, I’d had the sudden, crystal-clear thought that I might not walk away this time.
If Tia hadn’t risked her safety to drag me from the car before it tumbled down, I would indeed be dead. Though, if she hadn’t been dancing in the middle of the road, I wouldn’t have needed to swerve in the first place.
The memory of the dance still burned in my mind. The sway of her hips, the unbridled sensuality of her movements before she spotted my car.
“Be more careful next time, Santo,” my uncle Konstantin finally spoke up, his tone gentler than my father’s. “The company needs its future CEO intact. ”
“Indeed,” Irida said. “We can’t afford to lose our heir. You’re too valuable.”
I smiled at her, leaning into their affection. My Yiayia and Theia loved me like no one else. They were always on my side, which was precisely why I didn’t mention the persistent ache in my side since dawn.
“Speaking of life,” I said, deliberately steering the conversation away from my father’s impending lecture. I turned to my grandmother, who was still fussing with my bandaged forehead. “Yiayia, did you invite Antonis Tsolakidis to your birthday celebration this weekend?”
Antonis Tsolakidis’ shipping company had been handling international transport for Olympus Motors for decades, a business relationship that remained rock-solid despite my messy history with his daughter, Katalina.
“Of course I did,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with interest at my question. “Why do you ask, agori mou?”
I shrugged, keeping my tone casual while reaching for a fresh bread roll, tearing it open to release a cloud of steam. “Just curious. I saw Katalina at a party a night ago.”
“Ah,” my grandmother said, with a sly smile. “Yes, Antonis confirmed they’ll attend. He mentioned Katalina would be joining, and she’s bringing someone with her. ”
Dimitrios glanced up from his tablet. “Katalina has a boyfriend?” He navigated the question with the delicacy of a man testing thin ice, clearly gauging my reaction.
My grandmother’s eyes twinkled as she stirred more honey into her tea. “That’s what I gathered. Perhaps even someone serious.”
Uncle Konstantin cleared his throat. “We should arrange the seating charts to keep Santo and Katalina at opposite ends of the room. No need for unnecessary drama at Yiayia’s celebration.”
“Why would I care?” I interjected, spreading fig jam on bread, enjoying the private knowledge they all lacked. “Katalina’s romantic life is of no concern to me.”
My family exchanged glances laced with visible relief. They’d all tiptoed around me after our breakup, assuming I was nursing a broken heart rather than a wounded ego.
“Good,” my father said firmly, knife slicing through his omelet. “The Tsolakidis partnership is too valuable to complicate with personal matters.”
I bit into my bread, honey and fig exploding on my tongue as I hid my smile. They all assumed Katalina was bringing a man. Only I knew the “someone” was Tia. The same woman whose lips I’d claimed less than twenty-four hours ago .
“I’m actually looking forward to seeing who she’s bringing,” I said, savoring both the sweetness in my mouth and the anticipation of what was to come.
For three years, I’d nursed the humiliation of Katalina’s betrayal, fantasizing about the perfect revenge.
My original plan had been to seduce her again, have her perform every degrading act she’d once claimed was beneath her dignity, then discard her like yesterday’s newspaper.
I’d even entertained the idea of proposing, then leaving her at the altar.
But fate had handed me something far more elegant. Her American friend with those soulful eyes and lush curves. The woman who’d pulled me from death’s edge without hesitation.