Adonis in Athens (Romancing Europe #1)

“We’ll discuss it again after I take you to George’s.”

“George’s?”

“George’s Steak House. It’s a place in Glyfada that makes the best damn biftekia you’ll ever eat.”

“What is biftekia?”

“Think a cross between a meatball and a hamburger, but no bun or anything—a really big, glorified meatball. But so much more. The place doesn’t look like much from the outside, but you won’t know what hit you when you taste the food.”

She grinned. “Works for me!”

“Would you like to sit here and chat or drive a little further down the coast? I think watching the sunset in Sounion would be fun. We could sit up by the Temple of Poseidon and watch it go down.”

“Really?” She almost squealed with glee. “That sounds amazing! Thank you, Apollo.”

“For showing you around my country? It’s my pleasure.”

“But how is this an adventure for you?” she asked. “None of this is new—you must be bored.”

“Bored?” He chuckled. “I’m on the beach with a beautiful woman, enjoying food I love, interesting conversation and ignoring my phone—I promise I’m not bored!”

“You owe me 20 bucks, by the way!” she giggled.

“It’s more like 25 U.S. dollars,” he corrected. “But actually, I don’t.” He held out his phone, showing her a dozen missed calls. “My mother has called three times, my father once, my oldest sister twice, the younger one once, the guys at the office four times and my grandmother—who barely knows how to use a cell phone—once as well.”

“Uh-oh.”

He shrugged. “They’ll get over it. I should call the office back, just in case it’s about a customer, but if it’s not I’ll disconnect immediately. Do you mind?”

“Of course not.” She leaned back and enjoyed the scenery as he called the office, trying not to giggle again as his voice grew distinctly annoyed.

He hung up with a huff and rolled his eyes. “The questions were endless.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing—I hung up.”

“What are you going to tell people like your mother? The ones you really can’t hang up on?”

He paused, his dark green eyes meeting hers. “The truth.”

4

They were quiet when they got in the car, with Paige ruminating on what he’d said. Why would he tell everyone the truth? Didn’t he want to make the break as painless as possible? She had no intention of telling anyone the truth and couldn’t imagine why he would. She’d been too shocked to say anything at first and then the maître d’ had come back to chat so she’d remained silent. Now that they were in the car, she wasn’t sure what to say but felt like she needed to tell him what she thought.

“Apollo, we have to talk about what you said.”

“Why? I keep certain parts of my life private—my sex life, for example—but in general, I think lies make things complicated. I don’t want to be afraid I’ll slip up, or someday when I’m about to get married, have my fiancée discover I was married in a drunken Las Vegas haze…”

She had to clench her jaw tightly at the thought of him being engaged to someone else—even though it was inevitable and she herself had almost gotten engaged. “But they’ll probably think I’m some gold-digging bimbo and hate me! The idea was for us to part ways with happy memories, not ugliness from your family or hard feelings because I ruined your life or something.”

“You’ve in no way ruined my life,” he said gently. “And no one would ever think you were a bimbo.”

She eyed him. “I may never have been to Greece, but I have several Greek-American friends and their mothers are super protective of their sons and extremely critical of the girls they married.”

“My mother will certainly be critical—but she won’t think you’re a bimbo. She might have a thousand other things to say, about language and cultural differences, religion—since I doubt you’re Greek Orthodox—and much more, but she won’t think you’re a tramp. She knows me better than that.”

“She could definitely wonder about the gold-digger part, though.”