Page 11 of One Weekend in Greece

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NICOLE

Was it a poor decision to go get sloshed? Probably. Should I be trying to make life choices while under the influence? Of course not.

Yet here I am. The K.O. Club is one of the best nightclubs. The restaurant section offers the most amazing foods, and the bar side always plays the best dance music. However, I definitely didn’t eat enough, and they’re not stingy with the alcohol in the drinks. Corey, one of my closest friends, is dancing with me. Corey is handsome and fun, but we both agree we could never be romantic. We’re always there for each other, though. He’s the person I could call to help me dispose of a body, no questions asked. Until we were finished. Then he’d definitely ask if we could go eat. I do believe he’s asked me that every time we’ve been together for as long as I’ve known him. Our years of friendship and how comfortable we are with each other makes dancing together always fun and easy. To outsiders, we probably look extremely intimate.

I’m sweaty and tipsy as I grind on Corey’s strong thigh. His strong arm holds me close as we sing while holding our drinks in the air. I happen to turn my head toward the bar and notice who is sitting there staring daggers at me.

Jakob Petridis.

I narrow my eyes at him. He looks pissed. I consider how I’m straddling Corey’s leg and then laugh. Mr. Petridis might be my boss, but he doesn’t own me. And if he wants to, he better get off his ass and claim me. He practically dry humped me and then didn’t show up tonight. I wanted to discuss my job offer with him. We had a talk about him treating this whole situation differently, but instead he just didn’t show up—as usual. We had a whole moment, or what I thought was a moment, only for him to go back to avoiding me. He went as far as to not even show up to put Dafni to bed. It’s one thing to avoid me, but to avoid his daughter? I don’t want to be the reason Dafni doesn’t have a relationship with her father. I’d give anything to have had that. Screw him. Clearly, this job with him is going to be too complicated. I’d be a fool to put my dream job on hold or at risk for a situation that’s only going to hurt me and cause drama. Possibly even cause long-term conflict between our families.

Corey takes my hand, pushes my body back, and spins me. I giggle as a little bit of my drink spills on my hand. My tongue darts out to lick my hand, when once again, I lock eyes with the brooding jerk. I slowly lap the top of my hand.

“Why the fuck are you acting like a cat?” Corey chuckles.

What? I’m being seductive. I don’t voice that, since evidently, that didn’t play out as sexily as it did in my head. “I’m cleaning my hand from my drink.”

“Stop it. Go to the bathroom, you weirdo.”

He’s right, but somehow this feels like defeat. Not wanting to walk away without having made some kind of scene—one that’s not humiliating—I make a quick, impulsive decision. I down the rest of my drink and then throw my arms around Corey’s neck. I kiss him with everything I have. While my tongue is tangling with Corey’s, I take a peek to see if Jakob is watching. Of course he is, and he’s fuming while doing so. My empty hand raises slightly to form a lovely middle-finger salute.

I release Corey and hand him my glass. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

“Not sure who you were making jealous, but happy to oblige.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” He smiles and then, with a completely straight face, says over the music, “Now go wash up. Your face is so sticky that I had to peel my skin off to free myself.” And with a pat on my shoulder, he turns around and is lost in the crowd of gyrating bodies.

I turn back around and furrow my brow in confusion. I know I’m tipsy, but it suddenly feels like I’m in a cheesy vampire movie. In painfully slow motion, the tall, dark, and broodily handsome man stands. The sea of bodies part for him as he levitates toward me. His large warm palm cups my cheek.

“Your hand should be cold,” I slur.

Jakob groans. “You’re drunk. Great.”

“It feels sweaty. I don’t think vampires sweat.”

“My palms are not sweaty. You are. And sticky.” He wrinkles his nose, and I giggle at how cute the action is.

“Corey said I the same thing! Not that I’m sweaty, but I’m supposed to be going to the bathroom to wash up.”

“Corey… the guy who was tongue fucking you?”

“Yeah. But he said I was sticky and needed to wash up. That way I’m not acting like a cat anymore.”

“A cat? You called me a vampire. What are you, a witch that turns into a cat?”

My eyes go wide with excitement. “I hadn’t thought of that! I guess so! What’s Corey going to be?”

“Dead.”

I tilt my head. “A zombie? Ooh, or a mummy? Technically, vampires are dead. Or are they the undead?”

As my thoughts drift, I realize so has my body. Jakob has managed to position himself against me, and our bodies are swaying to the music. Sweet peaches and cream, I’m dancing with Jakob Petridis.

“Corey is a dead man because I’m going to kill him,” he growls against my ear.

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