9. Tia
I stepped carefully over fallen debris, my notebook clutched tightly against my chest as I documented every architectural detail of the abandoned villa. After three hours of intensive assessment, I’d filled nearly half a notebook with observations and taken over two hundred photos.
My mind buzzed with possibilities. The villa was a magnificent challenge, structurally sound at its core, but crying out for rescue after decades of neglect.
Santo came up behind me, his chest pressing against my back, his arms wrapping around my waist. I could feel his hard length pressing into me, making me ache for something I had never done.
“I’m going to Japan next week,” he murmured, his breath hot on my ear. “Come with.”
I swallowed hard, trying to focus despite the warmth of his body and the insistent pressure of his erection. “I don’t have a passport,”
“That’s a shame,” he whispered, before turning me to face him. His eyes held mine captive. “I need to kiss you,” he said, “for all the times I won’t be able to when I’m gone.”
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. He kissed me, deep and passionate, his hands threading through my hair, pulling me closer. Between kisses, he whispered against my mouth, “Four days without you... might kill me.”
“I’m sure you’ll find another girl there to kiss,” I teased.
Santo growled, his eyes darkening as he backed me against the weathered stone wall. His palm pressed flat against the wall beside my head, caging me in. His other hand curled possessively around my hip, pulling me against him, making me feel every inch of his hardness.
“There’s only one woman I want,” he said. “And she’s standing right here. ”
I should have pushed him away. Should have reminded him of his past relationship with Kat. Should have done anything except arch my body into his.
“Santo,” I whispered, but it wasn’t a protest. It was permission, a plea for more.
He captured my mouth again, harder this time, demanding. My notebook clattered to the ground as I gripped his head, pulling him closer. His lips blazed a trail of fire down my neck, his hands exploring my body, making me ache with need.
“Christ, aggelé mou,” he murmured against my throat. “You make me forget everything.”
“We should head back to the helicopter,” I said, even as my body begged for more. “If we want to leave here before sunset.”
He pressed against me one last time, his penis throbbing against my stomach. “Or we could stay,” he murmured, his eyes filled with dark promises. “And I could make you forget everything, too.”
“We need to go,” I whispered, collecting my fallen notebook with trembling hands. As we walked toward the airstrip, the heat of his gaze followed me.
“I can do this,” I intoned, my voice competing with the buzz of pedestrian chatter around us. “This is what I went to school for. This is the job I’ve dreamed of.”
We weaved through Plaka’s narrow cobblestone streets, the afternoon sun stretching between pastel-colored buildings. A street musician’s bouzouki created a melodic backdrop to my professional anxiety.
“Of course you can do this,” Kayla exclaimed, pausing to admire a display of handcrafted jewelry before linking her arm through mine. “You have the degree and the talent to make it happen.”
I smiled gratefully at her, dodging a group of tourists. The scent of souvlaki and fresh bread wafted from a nearby taverna, momentarily distracting me from my worries.
In the short time since Kayla had arrived at the Christakis estate, she’d become an ally. Her bubbly personality had quickly broken through my usual reserve. She reminded me of Tammy.
“Let’s sit,” Kayla suggested, pointing to a tiny café tucked into a stone archway. “You can show me those photos again.”
As I spread the villa images across our marble tabletop, the waiter arrived with coffees.
My mind drifted back to the island visit three days ago.
The crumbling grandeur of Thalassía had taken my breath away—both its decay and its potential.
But it wasn’t just the architectural features dominating my thoughts. It was Santo’s touch, his words.
“Earth to Tia.” Kayla waved her hand before my face. “That dreamy look has nothing to do with cornices and pediments, does it?”
I blinked, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “What? Of course it does. Look at these arches. They’re practically begging for restoration.”
“Mmhmm.” Kayla stirred her coffee. “And your face gets all soft and glowy when you think about... arches.”
A nearby church bell tolled. I busied myself rearranging photos while an elderly couple shuffled past, their hands intertwined.
“Fine,” I relented, lowering my voice. “Maybe I was thinking about Santo.”
Kayla squealed, drawing glances from the neighboring tables. “I knew it! You two are cute together.”
“We’re not together,” I sighed, tracing the rim of my coffee cup. “His ex-girlfriend is—was—my friend.”
Kayla wrinkled her nose. “The one who abandoned you without a second thought?”
I nodded. The waiter returned with a plate of honey-drizzled loukoumades. I grabbed one, using the sweet distraction to gather my thoughts .
“And you’re feeling guilty about liking him?”
“It’s not just guilt. It’s...” I hesitated. “Santo could have anyone. He’s gorgeous, wealthy, and handsome. Meanwhile, I’m just—”
“Brilliant, talented, and beautiful,” Kayla interjected firmly. “Don’t sell yourself short, Tia.”
A street vendor passed by selling evil eye bracelets. Kayla bought two, slipping one onto my wrist with a conspiratorial smile.
“Protection,” she explained. “And a reminder to follow your heart.”
I laughed softly, admiring the vibrant blue against my skin. “Did you follow yours?”
Her smile faltered slightly. “Not exactly. I married Konstantin in my sister’s place.”
My jaw dropped. “Wait! What?”
Kayla grabbed the length of her braids and pushed them behind her shoulder. “Long story.” She checked her phone. “We should go find our outfits for tonight.”
She pulled me to my feet. “We’ll go dancing and put those Christakis men out of our thoughts!”
I laughed as she dragged me toward a boutique.
Hours later, the night pulsed around us in a trendy Athens bar. Technicolor lights swept across dancing bodies while the bass vibrated through the floorboards. Kayla and I clinked our cocktail glasses.
“To forgetting about men!” Kayla shouted over the music, her face flushed with laughter.
“To freedom!” I agreed, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. The cocktail was sweet and strong, and three sips in, I was already tipsy.
I smoothed my hands down the silky material of my dress, still not quite believing Kayla had convinced me to wear something this revealing. The black fabric hugged my curves, the hem stopping mid-thigh with a slit revealing even more thigh when I moved.
“I still feel half-naked in this,” I confessed.
“You look amazing,” Kayla insisted, her own red dress equally bold. “That ass of yours deserves to be on display.”
She pulled out her phone, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Selfie time!” she announced, angling the screen to capture both our smiling faces. We posed through several shots, laughing at our increasingly ridiculous expressions.
“I need the ladies’ room,” Kayla declared after our third round. “Guard our drinks with your life! ”
As she disappeared into the crowd, I sipped my cocktail, people-watching. I’d never experienced such an adult experience — sitting at a bar and having a drink.
“Is this seat taken?” A deep American voice cut through my thoughts.
I looked up to find a tall man with black hair and a friendly smile. His cologne smelled expensive, his button-down shirt perfectly pressed despite the humid night.
“My friend’s just gone to the bathroom,” I said politely, “but you can sit until she’s back.”
“Greg,” he offered, extending his hand. “And you?”
“Tia,” I replied, shaking it.
Greg squinted at me, tilting his head. “You know, it’s crazy, but you look just like a woman staying in the villa next to mine. Dede.” He turned to point into the crowd. “She was just over there a minute ago...”
He scanned the area, then shrugged. “Huh, she must have left. She’s been seeing one of the locals. Probably went off with him.”
I crossed my arms, eyebrow raised. “I hope you’re not one of those people who thinks all Black people look alike.”
Greg’s eyes widened, and he raised his hands defensively. “What? No! God, no. You and Dede both have similar features, same smile, similar height and accent. It’s not a race thing, I swear. ”
“Relax,” I said, after letting him squirm for a moment. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“Tell me, Tia” Greg said, clearly eager to change the subject. “What brings you to Greece?” he asked.
“Vacation.”
“You’re in my seat.” The voice sent a jolt through me. Santo stood beside us, travel-worn but devastating in dark jeans and a button-down, his eyes fixed on Greg.
“Santo?” My voice came out higher than intended. “I thought you were in Japan.”
“I missed you.” His gaze never left Greg. “Came back early.”
Greg looked between us, understanding dawning. “You guys a couple?”
Before I could answer, Santo placed his hand possessively on the small of my back. “Yes. She’s my girlfriend.”
Greg smiled good-naturedly. “I see. Nice meeting you, Tia. Enjoy your evening.” He nodded to Santo and disappeared into the crowd.
I stepped away from Santo’s touch. “That wasn’t necessary. He was just being friendly.”
“He was hitting on you,” Santo countered, sliding into the vacant seat, his eyes still lingering on my thighs. “And you were letting him. ”
“We barely spoke,” I said quietly. “There was no need to chase him away.”
Santo’s expression softened. “Can you blame me for being jealous?” He reached out, his fingers brushing the hem of my dress. “Especially when you look this stunning tonight.”
I felt my resolve weakening. “You have no reason to be jealous. We’re not...”
“Not what?” His eyes held mine. “Not attracted to each other? Not thinking about each other constantly? Because I’ve thought about nothing but you for days.”
My heart fluttered traitorously. “Santo, this isn’t right. You know that.”
He moved closer, his knee brushing against mine. “It’s only complicated because you’re making it complicated.”
“Your ex-girlfriend was my friend—”
He leaned forward and kissed me. Not demanding or possessive, but gentle. I kissed him back, my fingers resting lightly on his arm.
This was so not me. This was wild. This was Kat’s ex. But his lips were on mine, and suddenly I didn’t care.
After Santo pulled away, he took a sip of my cocktail. “You taste sweet,” he murmured, setting the glass down .
Under the cover of the table, his hand found my knee, his fingers tracing light patterns on my skin. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding.
“Santo,” I whispered. “What are you doing?”
His hand moved higher, his fingers slipping under the hem of my dress. “What I’ve been wanting to do since I saw you in this dress,” he growled.
I should have pushed him away, but the feel of his fingers on my bare thigh sent heaps of pleasure through me. His hand moved higher still, brushing the edge of my lace underwear.
“You’re playing with fire, aggelé mou,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re making me want to do very bad things to you.”
His fingers slipped under the fabric, stroking my wet folds. I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily.
“Santo,” I breathed.
Santo leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “Shh, aggelé mou. Just let it happen. Let me make you feel good.”
His fingers moved expertly, circling my clit, sliding through my wetness. I gripped the edge of the table and tried to keep my composure. The music vibrated through my body, heightening every sensation .
I was definitely close. My muscles tightened. My breath caught. Oh God, was this happening in a bar?
Santo’s fingers moved faster, applying just the right amount of pressure. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape.
“Come for me,” he whispered.
And with a final stroke, I did. My body convulsed, stars blurring my vision. I threw my head back, no longer trying to hold back. Instead, I let loose, screaming his name in time with the music, the pounding beat drowning out my cries of pleasure.
Santo’s fingers slowed, drawing out the last of the pleasure. His eyes locked on mine, drinking in every moment of my release. He licked his fingers, then captured my mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. I tasted the sweetness of the cocktail on his lips and the saltiness of my arousal.
“You look even more beautiful when you come, aggelé mou,” he murmured, his eyes filled with dark promises. “And I intend to make you do that again and again.”
I caught my breath, still trembling, and let my fingers trail down his shirt. “Congratulations on your win in Japan, by the way,” I said.
“How did you know? ”
“I watched the race with Kayla yesterday,” I admitted, feeling shy and somehow proud at the same time.
A slow, pleased grin spread across his face. “I missed you, aggelé mou. The whole time, all I thought about was you.”
My cheeks warmed as I met his gaze. “I missed you too, Santo.”
“Well, well!” Kayla’s delighted voice broke the moment. “What did I miss?”