10. Santo
Three nights after returning from Japan, I entered the Christakis dining hall, suited up like a show pony for one of my father’s business dinners. The silk tie constricted my throat like a noose, and I resisted the urge to loosen it for the third time in as many minutes.
Father’s “important” business dinners were exercises in endurance. Tonight’s particularly so, with several Greek business executives in attendance.
I tugged at my collar, scanning the crowd for a friendly face among the sea of corporate vultures and political parasites. This was the price of my scheming. If I wanted Tia to keep the Thalassía contract, I would play the dutiful son at my father’s business functions.
My gaze caught on Kayla, who stood near the far window. She was laughing at something Yiorgos Andino was saying.
Interesting.
Yiorgos had once been Konstantin’s closest friend until they’d fallen for the same girl. She’d chosen Yiorgos in the end, leaving Konstantin nursing a broken heart. Now here was Konstantin’s wife, seemingly captivated by the recently widowed Yiorgos.
“You look like a man contemplating escape,” Dimitrios said, materializing at my side with two crystal tumblers of amber liquid. He handed me one. “Is it because our in house architect is absent this evening?”
“She’ll be down soon,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral despite the flare of protectiveness I felt. “Her hair is apparently not cooperating.”
Tia had wormed her way under my skin. I caught myself looking forward to her smile, anticipating her laughter, seeking her approval. Dangerous territory.
When I’d spotted her at the bar with that man, jealousy had burned through me, making me want to tear him apart. I was losing sight of why I wanted her in Greece.
I drained my glass, forcing down the unease. This wasn’t part of the plan. Tia was a means to Katalina’s humiliation and my satisfaction.
Nothing more. I couldn’t afford to develop real feelings, not when there was an expiration date. I’d simply enjoy her body, her company, while keeping my purpose clear.
“Their hair does need extra care.”
I paused, studying him. “How would you know?”
He seemed startled. “Through observation.”
“When did you—”
Across the room, I caught sight of Katalina’s father, Antonis Tsolakidis, engaged in animated conversation with my father. Katalina stood with them.
Before I could consider the consequences, my feet were already carrying me toward their small circle. My uncle must have sensed my intention because I felt his hand on my arm, attempting to halt my progress.
“Santo,” he warned in a low voice. “This is not the time.”
I shook off his restraining hand. “It’s exactly the time,” I replied, not bothering to look back.
I crossed the room in three strides. My father noticed my approach first. His smile faltered when he registered my expression .
“Ah, Santo,” he said, smoothly integrating me into their circle. “We were just discussing the potential for expanding our Mediterranean shipping routes.”
I nodded perfunctorily. “Fascinating.” My attention zeroed in on Antonis Tsolakidis. “Mr. Tsolakidis, I was hoping to have a word with you.” I ignored Katalina.
Antonis’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Of course, young man. Always time for Aristides’s son.”
My father’s posture stiffened imperceptibly. He recognized the drama brewing, even if Antonis remained oblivious.
“I wanted to ask about your position on hospitality,” I said, my voice casual. “Greeks pride themselves on it, don’t we?”
“Filoxenia,” Antonis nodded solemnly, chest puffing with pride. “Sacred since the days of the Gods. My home is always open to guests, and their comfort is my highest priority. The Tsolakidis name is synonymous with generosity.”
“And how would you feel,” I continued, holding his gaze, “if you learned someone had violated that tradition? Had abandoned a foreign visitor on a deserted road in the middle of the night without transportation or means of communication?”
Confusion gave way to indignation on the older man’s face. “I would consider it a disgrace,” he declared firmly. “Unworthy of any true Greek. Who would do such a thing? ”
My eyes shifted to Katalina, whose perfect smile had frozen in place. “Perhaps you should ask your daughter.”
The temperature in our small circle seemed to drop by ten degrees. Katalina’s hand flew to her throat.
“What are you implying?” Antonis’s voice had lost its jovial tone.
“Santo,” my father interjected, his warning clear. “This is hardly the venue—“
“I’m not implying anything,” I cut in. “I’m stating facts. Katalina abandoned her friend, Tia Massey, on Kastraki. At night. Alone.”
Antonis turned to his daughter, eyebrows drawing together. “Your friend who visited this summer? You told me she left with friends weeks ago.”
“Baba,” Katalina said, tears gathering perfectly in her eyes. “Tia attacked me that night. She became hysterical when she learned Santo and I have history.”
My jaw clenched so hard, my molars ground. “That’s completely untrue.”
Antonis placed a protective arm around his daughter. “You never mentioned this, Kata.”
“I was embarrassed,” she said, lowering her eyes.
“I didn’t want to tell you I’d brought such an unstable person into our home.
When I asked her to get out of the car and calm down, she refused to get back in.
She said she’d rather walk than be in the same car with me.
” Her voice dropped dramatically. “I should have insisted, but she was so aggressive... I was afraid.”
The audacity of her lies left me momentarily speechless. I stared at her, wondering how I’d ever been blind to this level of manipulation.
“That’s not what happened,” I said. “Tia would never—”
The dinner chime rang, interrupted me. At that exact moment, Tia appeared in the doorway of the ballroom.
She was breathtaking in a midnight blue gown and diamond accessories. Her hair was arranged in an elegant updo.
“Tia,” I said, extending my hand toward her, ignoring Katalina completely. “Join me for dinner?”
Tia hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with being the center of attention, but then straightened her shoulders and moved forward. She placed her hand in mine.
“Of course,” she replied with a smile.
As I led her toward the dining room, Katalina’s voice rang out again. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, moving towards us. “You’re supposed to be in America! ”
“Tia is employed by my family,” I said firmly, positioning myself between them. The crowd parted, creating a stage for our confrontation.
“As what? A whore?” Her voice rose, echoing through the hushed room. “Because that’s all she’s good for.” She jabbed a finger toward Tia. “That’s it, huh? You’ve found a way to pay your way on your back?”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. A woman’s wine glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the marble floor.
“Katalina Tsolakidis!” Theia Idira’s voice cut through the shocked silence.
She stepped forward from among the guests, her elegant figure commanding immediate attention. “That is quite enough. In all my years, I have never heard such disgraceful language from a young lady.”
Katalina ignored my theia completely, her attention fixed solely on Tia. She advanced several steps, her heels clicking against the marble. I shifted my weight, positioning myself fully before Tia.
“How long have you been planning this?” Katalina’s voice had dropped. “How long have you been plotting to take Santo away from me? You were always after him, weren’t you? ”
“Sure, Kat,” Tia responded, her voice flatter than I’d ever heard it. “I booked this trip and flew all the way here to steal him from your clutches.”
“I knew it.” Katalina advanced toward Tia, but Tia held her ground, folding her arms across her chest. The surrounding crowd had grown.
“Go ahead,” Tia said, her voice harder. “Put your hands on me and see how fast I forget where I am.”
Katalina froze, her momentum broken. Uncertainty flickered across her face.
“That’s what I thought,” Tia said.
With a dismissive roll of her eyes that somehow contained volumes of contempt, she turned away. But before leaving, she paused, her gaze sweeping across the shocked guests.
“Sygnómi gia ti diakopí tou deípnou sas,” Tia said, pronunciations imperfect, but her effort evident. “Den íthela na féro tétoio drama sto spíti sas.”
My heart swelled with unexpected pride. She’d apologized to the guests for disrupting their dinner.
Several of the older guests nodded appreciatively. My father’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and I caught a flicker of approval in Yiayia’s expression .
Tia gave a slight bow of her head and then left. I turned to follow Tia, eager to learn more about her learning Greek, but Katalina stopped me, grabbing my arm.
“Let go,” I said, my voice carrying in the still room.
“Don’t you miss me?” Katalina’s voice softened to a sultry whisper, her fingertips traveling up my chest to rest against my collar. “The way we were together?”
“No.” The single word caused several guests to exchange glances.
“We were good together.” She paused, aware of her audience. “And our parents approve of our relationship.”
The audience had grown, with waitstaff pausing and guests craning their necks for a better view. I grasped her wrist firmly, removing her hand from my arm. The disgust I’d been suppressing all evening flooded my body.
“Cut it out, Katalina.” My voice was low, edged with finality. “We’re over.”
Her expression shifted, the seductress vanishing, replaced by wide-eyed innocence. Her lashes fluttered, catching teardrops that hadn’t fallen yet.
“Why are you being so cruel to me?” Her voice hitched perfectly. “You said we’d be together forever. ”
The memory of those words—spoken years ago in the na?ve certainty of happily-ever-after—burned. “That,” I said, my voice flat as stone, “was before you fucked another man.”
A collective intake of breath swept through the room. Genuine shock registered on her face. Not at the accusation, but at the bluntness with which I delivered it.
Katalina took a step back, eyes darting to the circle of observers tightening around us. “Santo,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re the only man I’ve ever been with.”
I almost admired the performance. The quiver in her voice, the way her fingers trembled as they reached for me again, might have been convincing to someone who hadn’t seen the evidence. Who still had the proof…
“You’re a liar.” I held her gaze without blinking. “Juan told me everything. Even sent me proof of you sucking his dick.”
A woman nearby choked on her champagne. During our relationship, Katalina had never given me a blowjob, claimed the act made her uncomfortable. Said only whores performed those sexual acts.
Panic flashed across her face before she recovered, summoning tears with remarkable speed. They pooled in her eyes before spilling down her cheeks, leaving trails in her makeup.
“I... I...” Her voice broke convincingly. “It’s not like that. Please, Santo.” She reached for me again, her hands trembling. “He forced me. You have to believe me.”
My stomach turned. I’d expected denials, not the weaponizing of something that destroyed lives and left real victims fighting to be believed.
“If it was force, then where is the police report?” I kept my voice deliberately level, watching her expression closely. “Where are the charges?”
“I was ashamed.” Her hands clutched at her chest, crushing the fabric of her dress. “Embarrassed. It would be my word against his. Please, Santo.”
“Can you ever be honest, Katalina? Even once?”
I’d exposed her lies, confronted her publicly, and shattered her perfect image. The revenge I’d fantasized about was progressing perfectly.
“I am.” She drew herself up. “Truly.” Her eyes narrowed fractionally. “Is that why you broke up with me all those years ago? Is that why you slept with Tia?”
The sudden pivot caught me off guard. The mention of Tia’s name in Katalina’s mouth felt like a violation.
“No,” I said, unsurprised by the gentleness in my voice when I spoke of Tia. “I actually like Tia. She isn’t a liar like you. ”
Katalina’s mouth twisted into something ugly. “You can’t possibly be attracted to her. She’s fat and black.”
Hushed murmurs erupted into outright gasps. People recoiled visibly from her words. In the corner, I noticed Katalina’s mother press her lips together in mortification, but she made no move to intervene as dozens of witnesses turned to stare at her in judgment.
My father stepped forward, his voice carrying across the now-silent room. “I believe this evening has run its course.” The dismissal in his tone was unmistakable. He turned to Katalina. “You need to leave, as I won’t abide for racism in this house.”
Katalina laughed. “You’re attracted to a girl who slept with over half the boys on our college campus.”
I shrugged, affecting nonchalance while fury simmered beneath. “She could have fucked a thousand men, and I would still want to be the thousand and first.”
My father pinched the bridge of his nose, and I left to find my girl...