Page 21 of Possessive Greek Chef

“Yes, baby. You always make me feel good.”

We cuddle for a few minutes catching our breath then dress for our night of work at Andromeda. I’ll be lucky to get through the night without taking her out back to feed this sexual fire she has awakened inside me. Just looking at her makes my manhood swell and knowing that I can have her only makes that situation worse.

11

FROM OUT OF THE SHADOWS

ARIA

Dinner service at Andromeda is hectic. Atticus and I are both on the line along with the three other chefs. He turns to me, smiles, and says, “Thank you, princess. We appreciate you being here.” It feels so good to know that he appreciates my sacrificing my night off even if I didn’t do it entirely for him.

“Yes! Thank you, Aria,” the other chefs all chime in.

By the time the service ends, I want nothing more than to go home and take a long, hot bath. Atticus wants me to wait until he closes the books for the day, but I grin and tell him, “You have my whole place wired. I’ll grab a taxi and lock the door and set the alarm. By the time you finish, I’ll be out of the tub and waiting for you.”

“I don’t like it but I can watch you on the camera, so if you really want to go, I’ll call the taxi service.”

He calls me a cab and waits outside with me until it arrives. Having put me in the car, he leans into the driver’s window and hands him a wad of cash.

“You drop her off and wait outside until you see her wave you off from her apartment window. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” he tells the driver.

“For this much cash, I’d carry her to her door,” the driver says.

“No, you won’t. Just do as I say. Clear?” Atticus glares at the man.

“Of course, I was just joking. Sorry. I’ll wait until she’s inside and waves for me to go.”

“Good. She’ll tell me if you don’t, and trust me, you won’t like what happens next.”

He taps the door of the cab and steps away.

The driver takes me home and does what Atticus paid him to do. Once he drives off, I run my bath and undress. I light the four candles that I keep in the bathroom for occasions like this and turn off the overhead light. Immersing myself in the steaming water, I lay my head back and close my eyes. Tiny beads of sweat form on my face and forehead. As my tense muscles relax, I drift off to sleep.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here but the water is cool when the wailing alarm jolts me from my slumber. I attempt to quell my own panic by telling myself that it’s a brand-new system and it has probably malfunctioned.

The noise assaults my eardrums and has likely awakened all of my neighbors, so I step out of the tub and wrap myself in a towel. I grab my phone, knowing Atticus will receive the alarm signal and call any minute. I place my hand on the doorknob and it starts to turn. Someone is on the other side of the door trying to come in. I hold the knob steady and slide the chain lock into the locked position then back away until my body is pressed against the far wall.

My neighbors have to hear the alarm. Maybe it’s just one of them checking to see if I’m okay so they can scream at me in broken English for waking them up. I listen for them to tap on the door or call out to me, but the alarm is the only sound that I hear.

Looking around the room for anything that might be used as a weapon, I pull a pair of scissors out of the vanity drawer and inch closer to the door. I’m mid-step and stop in my tracks as the other side of the door goes silent. The only person who could deactivate the alarm except for me is Atticus. He must have gotten the signal and rushed over.

I reach for the slide lock but pull my hand back when something hits the outside of the door. The loud thud verifies for me it isn’t Atticus. A second thud and the door shudders in the frame. Someone is slamming their body against the door. I back up as the third impact breaks the door jamb and only the flimsy chain is holding the door in place.

My phone rings. It’s Atticus. I fumble to answer it without dropping the scissors but my intruder hears it and comes crashing through the door. He yanks the phone from my hand and tosses it into the full bathtub. I strike at him with the scissors hitting him in the arm several times before he grabs my wrists and twists my arm, causing me to drop my only weapon. He looks down at the blood that rolls down his injured arm then smacks me hard across the face.

“You cut me you fucking bitch,” he shouts, spitting on my face.

“What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? What do you want?” I ask, bewildered that this frumpy blowhard has broken into my home.

“I wanted you, you stupid whore. Why do you think I hired you in the first place? A low-class American baby with a great ass but no cooking talent. You were supposed to be mine. There’s no way I’m letting that fucker Adimos take this away from me, too. You’re gonna do everything I’ve been dreaming about since the first time we met. You thought you could tease your way into my kitchen with your tits bouncing and your short shorts but never pay up. No, bitch, you’re gonna pay up today,” Bedros shouts.

“You’re crazy. Get out of my house. The police got the alarm signal and they’re on the way,” I threaten but he knows it’s not true.

“No, your cheap alarm isn’t wired to the police station. You’re the only one who knows that I’m here.”

“Okay, you wanted me but you can’t have me. So, what now? If you hurt me, Atticus will kill you.”

“How would he know that it was me?” Bedros grins.

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