Page 13 of Slightly Married (Irresistible #2)
The article was about Tia, and it was brutal, suggesting she’d slept her way through college. When Aristides showed her the article, her face crumpled, and she bolted from the room.
By the time I reached the estate, Santo was with her in her room. Knowing she was in good hands, I kept my lunch date with Yiorgos, though my mind ping-ponged between worry for Tia and my desire for Konstantin.
“No way am I trying that,” Yiorgos grimaced, pointing at the octopus dish on my side of the table. “Octopus should be grilled, not served in that weird sauce.”
“It’s chimichurri, and it’s delicious,” I countered, protecting my plate from his reaching fork. “Just because it’s not traditional Greek doesn’t mean it’s not good.”
We were seated at a prime table at a rooftop restaurant, enjoying our third working lunch since I’d become his stylist. Our food debates had become something of a ritual.
“Some traditions exist for a reason,” he insisted, cutting into his moussaka.
Just then, a familiar feminine voice interrupted us.
“Yiorgos! What a lovely surprise!”
I looked up to see Stella standing beside our table, elegant in a cream designer suit, shopping bags dangling from her wrists.
“Stella!” Yiorgos stood to kiss her cheeks. “You look stunning as always.”
“Thank you,” she replied, her eyes flickering to me with cool recognition. “I see you’re having lunch with Kayla.”
“Yes, my brilliant stylist,” Yiorgos replied. “She’s completely transformed my wardrobe.”
“Stylist?” Stella’s eyebrow rose. “I had no idea. If I’d known styling was your specialty, I might have consulted you.
Konstantin and I leave for Italy this evening, and I wanted to look my best.” She paused, eyes flicking over my bold outfit.
“Though our tastes differ significantly. Konstantin prefers a more conservative esthetic.”
My fingers tightened around my water glass. I’d tried to avoid conflict with this woman who’d never directly wronged me, but her subtle digs were wearing thin.
“That’s surprising,” I replied, a dangerous smile forming. “Considering Konstantin couldn’t keep his hands off me earlier today.”
The tension around our table thickened instantly. Yiorgos’s eyes darted between us as he choked on his water.
Stella’s smile remained fixed. “How charming,” she replied. “Perhaps he was just being polite. Americans often misinterpret Mediterranean warmth for something more intimate.”
“There’s nothing ambiguous about a man’s tongue in your mouth,” I replied, immediately regretting the words as they left my lips.
This wasn’t me. I didn’t engage in petty confrontations over men.
Yiorgos cleared his throat.
“I should go. I need to pack.” She turned to Yiorgos with a smile. “Do give my regards to your parents.”
As she walked away, Yiorgos leaned forward. “What the hell was that?”
“She’s engaged to Konstantin,” I admitted, deflating. “I just... she pushes my buttons.”
“No way they’re engaged. Kostas found her annoying.” Yiorgos twirled his olive oil-dipped bread thoughtfully. “Even as teenagers, he was careful never to be alone with her because of her crush.”
“Really?” I perked up. The image of imposing Konstantin ducking behind drapery was almost too delicious. “Well, things have changed. She saved his life, and they’re going to get married when...” I buried my face in my hands, not wanting to give too much away. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is,” Yiorgos replied, signaling for the check. “Come on. I think we both need something stronger than wine.”
I declined Yiorgos’s offer. “Rain check? I need some alone time.”
Back at the estate, I slipped off my heels and padded across my bedroom floor. The day replayed in my mind like a movie I couldn’t pause—the island’s breathtaking beauty, Konstantin’s passionate kiss, my confrontation with Stella.
I stepped into the shower, washing away the day’s stress along with my makeup. After patting myself dry, I applied my lotion to every inch of skin. The scent of cocoa and vanilla centered me as my hands moved.
As I twisted my braids and wrapped them in my silk bonnet, I watched my reflection in the vanity mirror. “What are you doing, Kayla?” I whispered, seeing the confusion in my own eyes.
Slipping into my silk pajamas, I made a decision. I needed clear, impenetrable walls between Konstantin and my heart. We could create a child together, but I couldn’t afford to create expectations that would shatter me when things ended.
“No more private conversations,” I said aloud, counting the rules on my fingers. “No being alone together unless in the doctor’s office. No lingering eye contact. And definitely no more kissing.”
I opened my calendar app and began plotting my escape. Styling Yiorgos would require just a few hours each week, leaving me free to visit my cousins in Santorini, see my friend Natasha in Madrid, and perhaps explore Rome simply because I could. I’d only return to Athens for the IUI procedures.
The boundaries were clear now. My only job was to remember not to cross them, no matter how much my heart ached to blur them all over again.