Chapter 1
May, Athens
It wasn’t until I was wandering the back alleys of Athens that I realized how dumb this was.
When I arrived that morning and dropped my bags off at my seaside villa, following the little blue line on my map app had seemed perfectly reasonable since it was a shortcut to the popular Greek café I was dying to try.
The alley had looked cute at first, with white walls, brightly painted doors, and flowers hanging everywhere. But the deeper I went, the less pretty it became.
Painted doors got fewer, and some were barely hanging on. The pleasant smells of grilled meat and salty ocean air turned into garbage and stale water.
I was halfway down when my gut told me something was wrong. It was a feeling I’d learned to trust from years of working night shifts as a nursing assistant.
Looking up from my phone, I saw a skinny man leaning against a wall, smoking. He didn’t seem to be aware of my approach, but something about the scene felt off.
I pushed down the worried feeling. I wouldn’t turn around like some scared tourist because a guy was having a cigarette.
There was light ahead where the alley ended. All I had to do was keep walking.
When I walked past the man, his hand shot out, grabbing my purse strap. The yank sent pain shooting up my arm, but instinct kicked in and I yanked back, holding the bag with both hands.
I could have let go, but losing that purse meant losing my phone, passport, and the keys to the villa. Losing it would blow my cover about being in Greece, and I couldn’t let that happen.
I’d learned young that if you didn’t hold onto what was yours, someone would take it and never give it back.
“Let go!” I shouted.
But the harder I pulled, the harder he did, and we were locked in this crazy tug of war while he snarled things in Greek.
I wouldn’t give up. I refused to be another victim.
“You picked the wrong woman today! I will fuck you up before I let go!”
His face got uglier when he realized I wasn’t backing down. The strap cut into my hands, but I held on and kicked his shins.
He yelped and almost dropped the purse, but I wasn’t done. I let go with one hand and grabbed his face, jamming my thumb right into his eye.
“Let go, asshole, or I’ll mess you up so bad your mama won’t know you.”
I caught a flash of movement in my peripheral vision just before the thief was yanked backward. His feet literally left the ground as he was launched through the air so fast my brain struggled to process what was happening.
Someone had grabbed him, spinning him around before slamming him back-first into the old stone wall. The air whooshed out of his lungs in a gust.
A man with tattooed forearms now loomed over the purse-snatcher, pressing one arm into his windpipe. The thief made choking sounds, his eyes bugging out, before a quick punch to his gut doubled him over.
My rescuer said something low and threatening in Greek, making the thief’s eyes go wide with terror. Without breaking eye contact with the cowering man, he jerked his head toward the alley’s exit.
The thief scrambled away, clutching his chest and throwing venomous looks over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner.
I was still buzzing with adrenaline. “Damn, I wanted to get a few more hits in.”
“You are not hurt?” My rescuer’s dark eyes swept over me critically before shifting to frank male appreciation.
My pulse quickened, and I smoothed down my beige romper. “I’m fine. Thanks for jumping in. But you should have let me kick his ass.”
He was tall and broad, wearing regular jeans and a Henley. Intricate black tattoos wound up both arms and disappeared under his rolled-up sleeves, making me wonder how far they went.
There was silver in his dark hair at the temples, so he was probably older than he looked at first glance. Mid-forties, maybe, and unlike the smooth-talking brothas I usually went for.
“This purse, it is not worth your safety,” he said. “You should have released it.”
“I wasn’t about to get stranded in this country with no ID or way to call anyone.”
The tiniest smile played around his mouth. “A fair point.” He held out his big, tanned hand. “I am Aris Christakis.”
“Dede,” I said back, using a name nobody had called me in forever.
His hand was warm and rough around mine, sending an unexpected jolt through my whole body.
I pulled away. “You know where I can find the Elysian Café?”
“Of course. You will follow me, yes?” The way he said it, with that bit of humor, made it sound less like a question and more like that’s just what would happen.
I wasn’t asking to be led, but I followed. Something about him drew me in. And I am not a woman who was usually attracted to non-Black men.
We emerged into the late-May daylight and fell into step. The streets here were vibrant with life. Women gossiped from balconies, and children kicked a soccer ball against the stone walls covered in bright bougainvillea.
A pair of burly men walked a few yards behind us, maybe just pedestrians headed the same way. Still, when Aris and I turned a corner, they turned too.
I glanced back at them again. “Those guys following us, or is it me being paranoid after almost getting mugged?”
“They are with me,” Aris said. “My security detail.”
I stopped walking and stared at him. “Security detail? Are you part of the royal family or something?”
A low laugh rumbled from his chest. “Greece has no monarchy, thankfully. We abolished it in 1974.”
“Then why do you need bodyguards?” I asked, starting to walk again but eyeing him differently now.
He shrugged while smiling. “Perhaps I will tell you sometime.”
I let that sit for a second. Security details weren’t for regular people. They were for politicians, celebrities, or folks with enough money—or enemies—to need protection. And this man in his jeans and Henley didn’t exactly scream money or politician.
But I’d learned a long time ago that sometimes you got more information by coming at things sideways.
“Do you make a habit of rescuing tourists?” I asked.
“No, not usually.” Amusement flickered across his features, softening the hard angles of his face. “But today I was fortunate to pass by. I forget the hours when working.”
We paused at a narrow intersection to let a motorbike buzz past. The driver shouted a greeting to Aris, who raised a hand in acknowledgment. Clearly, he was known here.
“What kind of work?” I asked as we continued walking.
“I work with cars.” The slight hesitation told me there was more to the story. But before I could probe deeper, he stopped and gestured toward a building ahead. “The café, it is just there.”
At the same time, my phone sang out the ringtone belonging only to my daughter, Tia. My stomach clenched.
“I have to take this,” I said apologetically, already stepping away from Aris toward a quieter spot beneath an awning where crates of fresh produce created a small barrier from the foot traffic.
“Hey, love of my life,” I answered in a low voice, mentally preparing to launch into my well-rehearsed lie about getting ready for a run after a busy day of meetings.
“Mom! You will not believe what happened today. So we were working on the villa and—”
“Sweetheart, slow down. Are you okay?”
“Why do you always assume something’s wrong?” A pause. “Sorry, that came out mean. I’m good, Mom. Really good. I made some progress today, and I’m excited.”
A month ago, Tia had sprung her post-graduation summer travel plans on me. Three weeks in Greece with her best friend, Katalina.
Turned out she’d been planning the trip for months with Katalina, whose family was Greek. When I raised objections, my usually compliant daughter made it clear she would travel with or without my blessing. I’d swallowed my concerns, handed her my credit card, and driven her to the airport.
A week into her trip, she called and told me her wallet and passport had been lost at a party. Then, a week after that, another call. Her three-week vacation had turned into the entire summer. She had accepted an architectural job to restore a villa on a private island with people I didn’t know.
That’s when my rational brain went out the window. Hell no was my daughter spending months in a foreign country without backup. I knew she was twenty-two and capable, but the mama bear in me wasn’t having it. Within hours, I’d booked my flight.
The seaside villa I rented was twenty minutes from Katalina’s family house in Athens. Close enough to help if Tia needed me, far enough that she could remain independent.
“I know, baby. I’m just checking in.”
“I know you are.” She softened. “This island is a beauty, but it needs so much work. I’ll be up to my neck in design all summer.” She took a breath before continuing enthusiastically. “You’d love Greece. We should come here together one day!”
Every decision I’d made from the moment I found out I was pregnant had been for her. Marrying Kevin, working nightshifts, going back to school, building the business, and keeping her world steady even when mine wasn’t.
Apart from her cancer diagnosis and my divorce from her father, Tia had never wondered where she’d sleep or whether she was wanted. She lived better at twenty-three than I ever did at her age, and I would always be proud of that.
“How about Christmas?”
“Yes!” came her response. “Look, I need to get back to work, but can I call you later? I promise I’m fine.”
“Of course. And don’t forget our check-ins,” I added. “I love you.”
“I know, Mom,” she sighed. “Every morning and night. Love you too.”
I slipped my phone into my purse and glanced back, scanning the busy street for Aris. He was nowhere to be seen. I felt a flash of disappointment, stronger than it should have been for a man I’d known for all of twenty minutes.
Entering the café, I ignored the small, foolish part of me that hoped Aris might be waiting. But it was crowded with strangers, none of them the broad-shouldered man with silver-streaked hair.
And maybe it was for the best.