Page 7 of One Weekend in Greece

Of course he’s going to stand there and watch me. Then again, he’s probably worried I’ll get lost going up the stairs with the way I kept repeating everything he said. No worries. I’ve got this.

I conquer the first step and turn back to smile at Miles. His hands are behind his back as he continues to watch me with an amused expression. I go up five more steps. The house is eerily quiet this early. Is it always this quiet? Another five more steps, and I try to be subtle and see if Miles is still watching.

He is. And worse, he gives me a little wave.

I smile and return his wave. This is awkward. Painfully awkward. I clear my throat and tell him, “I know where to go now.”

“Good.”

“You don’t have to keep an eye on me.”

“I’m afraid I do. Mr. Petridis gave me instructions to see to it that you report to him upon arrival.”

That jerk. He probably thought I’d go to Dafni and then peace out. Why didn’t I think of that? Probably because a part of me wants to be tortured. I could hurry up these steps and make Miles’s life easier, but knowing Jakob is waiting plays on my petty side. I take my time climbing each step. It doesn’t lessen the ache in my calves, because sheesh, there are a lot of steps. It’s a toss-up if I’m out of breath because of my nerves or hiking up all these stairs.

Trying to control my breathing is useless when I find Jakob Petridis standing on the landing, shirtless, barefoot, and in slacks. This is so unfair. He clears his throat, but I can’t make eye contact. Seriously. He looks gorgeous right now, and I can’t meet his eyes because I’m ninety percent certain they’ll pop out of my head or he’ll see my tears of lust. Never mind the drool hanging from my chin.

“You’ll have to talk while I finish getting ready.”

I admire the staircase banister as I tell him, “You can finish getting ready while I wait downstairs.”

“Nonsense. I’m a multitasker, and this will save time.” After a pause, he says, “Don’t make this weird. We’ve practically grown up together.”

I was feeling confident about this until he showed up with no shirt on. I didn’t plan for that. I’m not prepared to face him head-on now. My eyes have never been exposed to such masculine beauty.

“To be fair, when we’d go swimming together, you didn’t… You were younger. We were younger.”

His chuckle is pure sin. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not mature enough to see me shirtless?”

“No,” I snap. I stomp up the rest of the way and stand toe-to-toe with him. I force myself to stare into his glacier eyes. “But it’s polite to put a shirt on when you have a guest.”

“Are you a guest?”

“Do you prance around Miss Owens shirtless?”

“No.”

“Afraid she can’t keep her hands to herself?”

His lip twitches—the closest I’ve seen him come to a smile without Dafni being around. “What do you care if Miss Owens sees me partially undressed?”

“My point is, if you wouldn’t do it around her, why me?”

“Maybe I’m hoping you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

I take a step back. Did I hear him correctly?

Before I can respond, he steps past me and calls out, “Or I’m hoping you’re mature and professional enough to behave like an adult. I’m shirtless, not nude. Follow me, please.”

I’m following a shirtless Jakob Petridis to his bedroom, and he begged me to do so. Practically demanded it. This is my fantasy. I realize I’m slightly delusional and twisting things.

Not being able to help myself, I tease, “Well, since you said please. I don’t want you to beg for me to come to your bedroom.”

Did he scoff? I think he just scoffed at me, but it was so faint, I’m not sure. He opens a set of giant double wooden doors. All the lights are off and there are blackout shades, so I can’t make out much except the light coming from the open bathroom door. When I enter the bathroom, I come to a halt from being in complete awe. It’s a wing all on his own. I wander through in fascination.

“This is bigger than most public restrooms. Bigger than the dorm communal shower room. How many people use all this?”

“Just me.”

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