Bought to Carry His Heir - Page 25

THEY RETURNED TO KATAPOLA, the main harbor, for a late breakfast after checking out of the hotel.

Nikos had wanted to stay in Chora for the meal, but Georgia pleaded to return to Katapola so they could have their last meal on Amorgós be at one of those charming restaurants on the bay.

In town, Nikos let Georgia pick the restaurant, and she took the task seriously, studying the outside of each place before examining the posted menus before finally selecting a small outdoor café close to the boats.

It was clearly a place for locals—and by locals, it appeared the local men—but Nikos entered and took a table on the shaded patio, ignoring the curious glances from the patrons already seated at tables.

They knew who he was, she thought as he held her chair for her. Just as the woman in the bakery had seemed to recognize him yesterday. Just as the woman behind the counter hadn’t been friendly, these men weren’t welcoming, either.

“I know you studied the menu outside, but almost everything was for lunch. Greeks don’t have a big breakfast. For some it’s just a coffee and cigarette, not that I’d recommend that for you,” he said. “For others, it might be some yogurt with almonds and honey, or maybe a slice of cheese pie or spinach pie.”

“So what would you suggest?”

“What are you hungry for?”

“Do you think they have eggs?”

“I’m sure they could cook eggs for you. I will ask.” He leaned back in his chair, looking carelessly at ease.

But Georgia wasn’t relaxed. She could feel the stares of the men at the table in the corner. It wasn’t comfortable. She shifted in her chair, trying to block them from view. “Have you been here before?”

“To this restaurant or the island?”

“Both.”

“Not to the café, but to the island, yes.”

She couldn’t help glancing back over her shoulder, her gaze sweeping the corner table as well as the pair at an adjacent table. Not one of the men smiled or nodded.

“Kind of an interesting energy,” she said.

“Very polite of you.”

She focused on him. “So you’re aware of the cold shoulder?”

“Absolutely. I’m not wanted here.”

“Why?”

“They are uncomfortable with me here.”

“Why?”

He didn’t immediately answer, and then he shrugged, wearily. “They call me teras. Thirio.”

Georgia silently repeated the words. “What does it mean?”

“It’s not important.”

“Tell me, Nikos.”

He sighed. “Monster.” He hesitated. “Beast.”

“What?” Her jaw dropped, shocked. “Why?”

He gestured to his face. “This.”

“That’s ridiculous. Those are burns. You were injured—”

“It bothers people here that I live and she does not.”

“Were you at the wheel?”

“No. I wasn’t even in the car.”

“Then how can they blame you?”

“It’s a small island. I live close by and yet I’m a stranger to them.”

“I find it hard to believe that’s why they call you such horrible things.”

“I’m an eccentric.”

“Yes, you are. But does that warrant such cruelty?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really care anymore. I just try to avoid this place. It’s why I didn’t want to come here. It’s why I stay on Kamari. It’s home.”

His refuge.

Georgia swallowed hard, hating what he’d told her and yet also understanding his desire to be alone. To have his own space. To be free of ignorant people’s hatefulness. “How do they even know about you and Elsa? Didn’t you meet her in Athens?”

“No. She was here on Amorgós on holiday with girlfriends, visiting from Oslo. They’d booked a villa for a number of weeks during the summer and while here, she met a handsome young man, a local fisherman named Ambrose, and they fell in love. He proposed. She stayed. The wedding was planned. And then she met me.”

“And she abandoned Ambrose for you.”

“Yes.”

“People took sides.”

“Yes.”

“And when she died in the accident, they blamed you.”

The edge of his mouth curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “You know the story already.”

“It’s horrible.”

“I am, yes.”

“No.” She frowned at him. “You’re not horrible. The story is horrible. And they are horrible, too, if they call you such terrible names. You are not a beast or a monster—”

“I don’t blame them. She’s gone and look at me.”

“I see you. And I think you’re beautiful.” And then Georgia shocked everyone in the café by leaning across the table and kissing him on the lips. “Let’s go back to Kamari,” she whispered. “I’m tired of playing tourist.”

* * *

It rained during the return trip to Kamari. The clouds had been gathering during the morning and by the time they boarded the boat at noon the sky was gray, the clouds ominously low.

“I am wishing I’d requested the yacht,” Nikos said, taking Georgia’s hand to steady her as she stepped into the low, sleek speedboat. “But maybe we’ll beat the storm.”

She’d had such a great day and a half on Amorgós, had loved her night with Nikos, enjoying every moment of their trip until they’d sat down in that café on the harbor.

Now it was hard to get the villagers’ cold stares out of her head. Nikos’s explanation didn’t help, as she sensed there were pieces missing from the story. She wanted to ask more questions but didn’t think this was the time. “I’m not worried about getting wet,” she said, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s just rain.”

“You might feel different when we’re flying at high speed across the water.”

The storm broke while they were halfway between Amorgós and Kamari, and there were a few drops and then the skies just parted and the rain came down hard, and the wind whipped at them. The rain was cold and fell in heavy wet sheets, pelting them. On the speedboat there was nowhere to go, and so the rain drenched them, water streaming from Georgia’s sweater when it could hold no more.

Nikos had offered his jacket when the first raindrops fell, but she’d refused. Now he simply overrode her protest and peeled off his coat, wrapping it around her slim shoulders and buttoning it over her chest.

“Nikos, I’m fine,” she laughed, pushing wet hair back from her face.

“You’re not. You’re chilled through,” he said. He reached out to touch her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Your skin is cold.”

“I’m not that cold.”

“You’ll get sick.”

“We’ll be back soon.”

“Not soon enough,” he said, drawing her into his arms and holding her securely against him. “Not taking chances.”

“You never do,” she answere

d as he shifted his hold, one of his arms circling her shoulders to keep her upright, while the other moved below the hem of his coat to clasp her waist.

She had been cold, but his body was warm, penetrating her damp clothes. She loved the feel of his hand on her waist, too. The intimacy of the touch wasn’t lost on her. From the beginning Nikos had been protective, and on Amorgós he’d remained close, always watchful, always there to lend a hand as she stood up or navigated a steep set of stairs, making her feel safe, desired.

It had been a long time since anyone was there for her. She’d grown accustomed to taking care of herself, taking care of others, and it was a novelty to have Nikos want to care for her.

Nikos’s hand at her waist was sliding down to her hip, and she sucked in air, eyes half closing, trying to ignore the faint shudder of pleasure.

“I knew you were freezing,” he said, his mouth near her ear, his warm breath stirring her senses.

She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to worry, that she wasn’t cold, just sensitive, her body still humming with emotion and sensation from their night of lovemaking.

The speedboat hit a wave and lifted. Nikos’s arm tightened around her, holding her steady.

Just then the baby kicked. Nikos’s head dipped. “I felt that,” he said.

Georgia’s heart turned over. A lump filled her throat. She put her hand over his, trying to control the panic rolling through her.

How was this going to work?

How was she going to do this?

How was she going to just get on a plane and leave Nikos and the baby?

* * *

Back on Kamari, Nikos disappeared into his room to shower and change and work, and Georgia did the same, except after her hot shower she couldn’t seem to settle down enough to focus on her books.

She sat on the couch and stared off into space, her attention drawn now and then to the window, where the rain drummed against the glass.

She had to study. The exam was important. Her future was important. Her goals hadn’t changed. Her priorities were still the same. Weren’t they?

But as the rain pounded on the roof and the wind howled outside, tugging at the old wood shutters, she found herself unable to see herself back in Atlanta.

Tags: Jane Porter Billionaire Romance
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