Page 58 of Below Deck Billionaire
Because it was he who was beautiful. The loose white linen shirt he was wearing accentuated the perfect stretch of his bronzed skin, from the way it was rolled to expose the dark hair on his ropey forearms to the V at his neck, giving a glimpse of hard chest. Dark whiskers peppered his throat and jaw, a perfect counterpoint to the jut of his forehead and the crystalline blue of his eyes.
Theo Callisthenes looked like he belonged here. On high. Dominating the terrace and the landscape around them like a god. The God of Desire and Decadence and Debauchery, and her fingers trembled as they gripped the railing a little tighter. What would it take to bring this thoroughly modern god to his knees?
‘I have an idea,’ he murmured, his voice low and silky.
Tiffany almost laughed out loud as she wondered if his idea was as pornographic as the ideas running through her head right now.
‘Why don’t I send for your laptop? It’s been several days since you wrote something, and you’re right.’ His gaze shifted to the sea. ‘It is inspiring. You can write for as long as you like. Dip in and out of the pool if it helps. I have work I can be getting on with as well. Then when you’re done, we can have a late supper and go back to the boat after?’
Okay. Not pornographic. But as freaking inspired as the view. Just the suggestion of it had her fingers itching and her characters calling. How could she resist writing with all of this in front of her? When would she ever get an opportunity as amazing as this again?
Tiffany nodded as she looked at his profile. ‘Yes. Thank you. That would be…’ He turned his head and their gazes locked, the blue of his eyes darker now, reflecting the unfathomable blue of the sea. ‘Amazing.’
He smiled. ‘Excellent. Have a seat.’ He gestured to the sun loungers scattered around the pool. ‘I’ll make a couple of calls.’
20
Despite the inspirational potential of the view, Tiffany worried that knowing Theo was just inside doing his own work would make it hard to concentrate on the story. She was wrong. Her muse thrived thanks to the panorama, words flowing like magic from her fingertips, and when they faltered, a quick peek at the view for a little stimulus and she was off again.
She wrote for several hours, stopping only when day turned to dusk to admire the changing palette of the sky. Theo must have had the same idea as he joined her at the railing, bearing two glasses of white wine, handing her one.
‘Yamas,’ he said, clinking his glass to hers, their arms brushing as the crystal-clear ring was caught by the breeze and carried away over the rooftops of Mykonos.
‘Yamas.’
‘I think this is my favourite time of day here,’ he murmured as he stared at the horizon. ‘I like how the softening light settles across the church domes and the colours of the sunset play across the water.’
Tiffany nodded as she sipped the cold, crisp wine. The sky, a cotton candy pink at the moment, was turning the sea a deep kind of mauve.
‘Mypappou. He likes the sunrise. When he stays here with the family, I know exactly where I’m going to find him every morning.’
She liked the way Theo’s voice softened when he talked about his grandfather. His affection for him was obvious. ‘It must be magnificent here during storms, too.’
‘Uh huh. You can see them coming from miles away. New Year’s Eve fireworks are pretty spectacular too.’
‘I’ll bet.’ It was no wonder Kelsey had raved about this place; it truly was spectacular.
‘How’s the writing?’
‘It’s going well. I’ve written a few thousand words.’
He whistled as he turned his head in her direction. ‘How far along are you now?’
Tiffany shrugged. ‘About halfway, I reckon.’
‘And how much had you written before theNerida?’
Meeting his gaze, she smiled. ‘None.’
Grinning like he’d personally written each word himself, he said, ‘You must be happy with that.’
‘Very,’ she agreed, his grin turning her belly liquid and making her want to lean into him. Dragging her gaze back to the sea, she asked, ‘How about your work?’
His grin turned to a grimace in her peripheral vision. ‘I’m reading a bunch of reports Ari insists I read before a Zoom meeting tomorrow afternoon.’
‘What are they about?’
He huffed out a breath as he released a long string of complicated-sounding Greek words which his accent somehow made sound romantic. ‘Or, in English,’ he translated, ‘the effects of air and water quality on the control and containment of pathogens in ship galleys.’
