“No, you didn’t.”
His shoulders shake up and down in silent laughter, but he doesn’t say anything else. I turn and walk back toward my room, unable to get what he said about the sculpture off my mind. Just before I get back to the building where my room is, I decide to take a detour. This hotel is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I’m curious if there are any other statues or décor like the one in the courtyard.
I take a left and head down a wooden walkway. A few people are walking in various directions. A couple holding hands. A group of people laughing and talking. As I continue in my direction, I hear the light thumping of bass. I follow it until I get to a well-lit area. There’s a pool and wet bar, where at least a dozen people are lounging around. Some are swimming, and others are sitting along the edge of the pool. A few people are sitting on the stools in the water at the bar, having a drink.
Opening the gate, I step inside and head to the back of the bar, the one on land and not in the pool, to grab a drink. Maybe it will help me wind down and get some sleep.
“What can I get you to drink?” the bartender asks, and it’s then I remember I don’t have any money on me since I left my purse in my room.
“I didn’t bring any money. Is there any way you can charge it to my room?”
“I got this,” a gentleman says. He gets off the stool and walks around behind the bar. The first thing I notice is he’s shirtless and has several intricate tattoos along his chest. My eyes glide down to his perfectly sculpted abs, but I can’t see any farther because of the bar being in the way.
When my eyes ascend and meet his, I notice they’re a dark brown and match his hair. Both the color of espresso. What’s up with these sexy men on this island? Unlike the guy I spoke to about the statue, this guy’s smile is less deviant and more playful. His eyes, even though the color is dark, don’t scream dangerous, but instead scream light and laughter. Quite the contradiction.
“What’s your poison?” he asks, holding up a bottle of alcohol in each hand.
“White wine, please.”
He tilts his head to the side, reminding me of the gentleman from earlier, and groans. “Bo-ring.”
A giggle escapes my lips, and I shrug, sitting on the stool he just got up from. “I know, but it’s been a long day and I’m hoping to get some sleep soon.”
He grabs a wine glass and pours me a drink. When I take a sip, I notice it’s light and fruity. “This is delicious.”
“Santorini. It’s the best.”
I take another sip and have to agree.
“So, what brings you to Pérasma?” he asks, popping a cap on a beer and taking a long gulp.
“My father…he’s summoned me,” I say, trying, and failing, to withhold the annoyance in my tone.
The gentleman’s brows rise, but he doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“I have no clue how he can even afford to stay here, but I guess I’m going to enjoy it while I can, since I have no choice.”
I take a long sip of my wine and enjoy the coolness as it descends down my throat.
“And you?” I ask in return. “Do you work here?” He must be in close with the place to be allowed to get behind the bar and serve me.
“Something like that.” He winks playfully then pours some more wine into my glass. “I was just about to go for a swim. Would you like to join me?”
I glance down at my outfit. “I don’t have a suit.” A yawn escapes me, and I cover my mouth with a giggle. Clearly, the wine is already doing what I was hoping it would do. “And I have an early morning,” I say, repeating the same thing I told the other gentleman a little while ago. “Some breakfast with my dad and brother.”
Standing from my stool, I down the rest of the wine in the glass. “Can you charge the wine to my room? I’m in four-nineteen.”
His eyes widen a fraction, and then he grins. “It’s on the house.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you. Maybe I’ll see you again during my stay…”
“Maybe.”
I wake to the sound of knocking on my door. I glance at my phone and it reads nine thirty. And then it hits me, we’re supposed to meet for breakfast at ten. Shit! I overslept. When I got back to my room last night, the wine knocked me out and I never set my alarm.
“Coming!” I yell. I swing the door open and Phoenix is standing there in a black three-piece suit.
“Wow, look at you. I thought we were just meeting Dad for breakfast.” I step back so he can enter.
“It’s more of a business meeting. We’re meeting with the Demetrious. I told you about them yesterday.” He’s right. He did. I just forgot. “They own this hotel…well, really this island. Go get ready,” he instructs. “They don’t do well with tardiness.”
“Since when do I attend business meetings?” I ask, snagging a simple floral dress from the armoire. Then I pull the drawer open and grab a matching set of white lace bra and panties.
“Since now, I guess. Go. Shower.”
After taking a quick shower and blow-drying my hair just enough so it’s not soaking wet but hanging in loose waves, I get dressed. I find various pairs of shoes in the closet, from heels to flip-flops, and decide on a cute pair of wedges.
“Ready?” Phoenix asks from the living room. “It’s two minutes till ten.”
“Yes, sorry!” I grab my phone off the nightstand but realize I don’t have anywhere to put it, so I grab my purse, stuffing my phone and room key in it.
“Let’s go.”
We walk down the long pathway, back toward the courtyard. As we pass the statue from last night, I think back to my conversation—more like debate—with the gentleman. How he can see anything other than a woman scared and trying to escape a man who is kidnapping her is just crazy. Passion doesn’t stem from anger. It stems from love. I can’t imagine having sex with someone I don’t love, let alone with someone I hate. While the majority of my friends enjoy hooking up, I’ve never seen the appeal. Sex should be intimate with the person you love and trust and want to spend your life with. It shouldn’t be casual, and it definitely shouldn’t be done out of anger.
We enter the building and there’s a hostess waiting at the door. “Good morning, Mr. and Miss Nikolaides. Everyone is already inside.”
I’m taken aback for a moment that she already knows who we are.
“Thank you,” Phoenix says.
We walk past the hostess stand and enter the dining room, and standing around the table are several men. The first one I spot is my dad, dressed in a suit similar to Phoenix’s. My initial thought is maybe, for the first time, he’s actually gotten himself together. But then his eyes meet mine, and I see the stress and nervousness in them, telling me nothing has changed.
He cuts across the room and pulls me into a tight hug. “My sunshine,” he murmurs, and my heartstrings tug at the nickname he gave me when I was little. He used to tell me I was the light in his darkness. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please,” he begs.
“What?” I ask, confused. “Forgive you for what?” What’s going on here? Why is he begging me to forgive him? “Dad, what did you do?”