Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a
woman on the eve of her wedding day, considering the fairy
tale that was her life…
This was a dream. It had to be. At any moment, Elena
Anastasios was sure her mother would poke her in the ribs to
rouse her from sleep. She would wake to find herself staring
at her water-stained bedroom ceiling back in their old house
in Seattle, Washington, rather than taking in the
exceptional sight of the large, hazy yellow sun rising over
the deep blue of the Aegean Sea outside her villa window.
Elena drew in a deep breath, waiting for the poke, the
pinch, the bucket of cold water that would bring her to her
senses. But when she exhaled, she was still on the Greek
island of Santorini. And she was still a day away from
marrying one of the world's most eligible bachelors.
Lightness crowded her chest. As the only daughter of
hardworking Greek-American immigrants, she'd never much
believed in fairy tales. Even her mother had told her she
had been the most serious girl she'd ever seen, opting to
help out in the family restaurant filling napkin holders and
salt and pepper shakers rather than playing with dolls.
Now she was living a fantasy. Only a year earlier she'd been
worrying about how she was going to make the rent after
they'd finally closed the doors on her late father's
restaurant. Now she was gazing into a future that didn't
hold a single monetary or, indeed, any worry at all.
After getting up and taking a quick shower, Elena pulled on
a short silk robe which emphasized curves she rarely noticed
she had. She slid her hands over the decadent material and
shivered in anticipation. She and Manolis had yet to sleep
together. Sweetly, he'd insisted that they should wait until
their wedding night. She'd been okay with that. In fact, she
was hoping she'd get pregnant with their first child on
their honeymoon, prolonging the fairy tale element of their
courtship.
Her hands stilled on her breasts and the air rushed from her
lungs. If she was a little concerned that she wasn't
strongly physically attracted to Manolis, she was pretty
good at not thinking about it. But her small sighs of relief
when he'd say good-night at the end of their dates instead
of pressing for a more intimate meeting gave her away. At
least to herself. Manolis thankfully didn't appear to notice.
Elena plucked her hands from her tingling flesh. Oh, so
what? In her limited experience, sex was overrated.
Enormously overrated. A lot of sweaty groans (on the man's
part), unmet needs (on her part) and a lingering emptiness,
overall, that left her wondering what all the fuss was about.
She loved Manolis. She would make sure that their sex life
reflected that. And she'd invested in plenty of sexy
lingerie to help her toward that end.
She smiled and stepped to the open patio doors, the view of
the caldera—the sea-filled volcanic crater—stealing her
thoughts away. It seemed fitting that the most important day
of her life should take place in one of the most magical
places on earth. If she squinted just so, it was easy to
imagine Odysseus sailing the cerulean blue sea, the wisps of
clouds pedestals on which Zeus and Hera stood overlooking
their domain with a loving and stern hand.
Elena heard a quiet knock on her villa door and then the
sound of someone using an access card to open it. She
stepped back into the room and watched a young Greek maid in
a crisp gray-and-white uniform duck inside carrying a
plastic-covered dress and a breakfast tray.
"Good morning, miss," she said in Greek. "Your dress has
been pressed, as requested." She hung the clothing on the
wardrobe door and placed the tray on the bedside table.
"Thank you," Elena said, going to her purse to pull out a tip.
The maid held her hands up. "No, no. That's not necessary.
Kirio Manolis has already well compensated all the
help on the premises."
Elena wasn't surprised. Manolis was very generous. And even
though he was staying on his mammoth yacht in the harbor,
there was a wedding party of at least thirty people in the
upscale accommodations, including Elena, her mother in the
neighboring villa and her older brother.
Elena knew a moment of regret that her father wasn't there
to witness the event. Regret that was no less painful now,
two years after his passing.
It had been at his funeral that she'd crossed paths with
wealthy Greek entrepreneur Manolis Philippidis again after
having been familiar with him most of her life. She wasn't
sure how her father had known him—her mother said that the
two men had met shortly after immigrating to the States some
thirty years earlier—but the handsome older man had proven a
rock when Elena's father had suffered a massive stroke that
landed him in a coma and then claimed his life shortly
thereafter.
Manolis had helped look after her family financially when
they'd discovered the restaurant her father had run for over
twenty-five years was deep in debt, and he'd gotten her
brother a job as an accountant in his extensive company's
Seattle offices.
But it had been Manolis's gentle attention to Elena that had
won her heart.
It also didn't hurt that her best friend, Merianna, thought
he looked like a slightly younger version of a Greek Sean
Connery.
"He spoils you," her mother was fond of saying. "No woman
deserves the riches he lays at your feet."
"He doesn't lay anything at my feet, Mama, much less riches."
She didn't tell her mother how many extravagant gifts she'd
returned to the bighearted man. Probably her mother would
have insisted she give them to her instead, to stash away
for a week's worth of future rainy days.
Elena wasn't sure when her warm friendship with Manolis had
turned into something more. Just that the first time he'd
held her, it had felt right. It hadn't mattered that he was
closer to her mother's age than her own. Or that he'd been
married twice already. All that was important was that for
the first time in a very long time, she'd felt safe. As well
as wanted.
Elena sighed wistfully as she admired the delicate pink lace
of the designer cocktail dress. Tonight was the rehearsal
dinner, and tomorrow she would be marrying one of the
kindest men she'd ever met.
"Where would you like your breakfast, miss?" the maid asked.
Elena looked around the room. "On the patio, I think. Yes,
definitely on the patio."
The maid moved the tray of rolls, coffee and orange juice to
the table outside and then moved around the room almost
imperceptibly, opening the curtains, fluffing pillows and
smoothing the sheets.
"What's your name?" Elena asked.
"Signomi?"
Elena was glad she'd been raised in a bilingual household.
It came in handy now that she was in the land of her
parents. The maid had said "pardon me?", as if surprised
she'd been asked a personal question.
"Pos s'lene?" she asked in Greek.
The young woman smiled, brightening her quite striking
features. At maybe twenty-five or twenty-six, she was tall
and quite attractive, the starched uniform doing little to
disguise her soft curves and long legs. And there was
something almost… regal in the way she held herself. It was
a posture that Elena had been practicing, yet it appeared to
come naturally to the maid.
"Aphrodite," she said.
Of course, her name would be Aphrodite. "Nice to meet you,
Aphrodite. I'm Elena."
The maid's green-eyed gaze seemed to look inside her in a
way that wasn't invasive but nonetheless felt a bit
discomfiting.
"Is everything all right with Zaharoula?" Elena asked,
wondering where the maid who had been looking after her
since her arrival had disappeared to.
Aphrodite nodded. "She's fine." She gestured toward the
dress. "Are you in Santorini for a special occasion?"
"Yes. I'm getting married tomorrow. To Kirios
Philippidis."
"Congratulations," she offered. "This is a man you love?"
Elena squinted at her. Through her own familial experience,
she understood that Greeks could be very forthright. But the
previous maid had been little more than a phantom presence
whenever she'd entered the room. This one…
Was it her, or did Aphrodite stare pointedly at the bed
where only she had slept?
Elena pulled her robe around her a little more closely.
"Yes. Very much."
Aphrodite disappeared into the bathroom.
Elena walked back toward the patio and picked up a croissant
from the tray on the table, feeling suddenly restless. She
wanted to go out. Explore the stunning island more
thoroughly. Her mother claimed to be suffering from a
massive attack of jetlag and had requested she not be
awakened until after ten. And Lord knew what Elena's brother
was doing. She leaned against the doorjamb, wondering if the
locals took the mesmerizing view for granted. It was hard to
imagine anyone being able to ignore the exquisite scene. She
tried to make out Manolis's yacht but couldn't distinguish
it from the others from a thousand feet above the sea's
surface. She glanced at the brass telescope on the corner of
the patio.
Movement in the water caught her attention. She shielded her
eyes, watching someone swim toward a sailboat. She idly
moved toward the telescope and focused it on the individual.
She watched a man with rope-strong arms as he pulled himself
up a ladder, water sluicing from every tanned muscle, his
dark hair sleek against his head, his black swim trunks
emphasizing the amazing shape he was in. He was Adonis,
personified. He stood on deck and turned, shaking excess
water off before picking up a thick white towel.
Elena's attention was riveted on the sight of him. Ever
since arriving five days ago, she'd crossed paths with more
beautiful people than she'd seen in her entire life. While
the Greeks appeared to be a health- and style-conscious
people, even the tourists seemed to have stepped off covers
of swanky travel magazines.
The man on the boat appeared to be looking straight at her
too. She hadn't noticed him lifting a pair of binoculars, as
if picking up on the fact that he was being watched, and
swinging his attention in her direction.
Elena's throat tightened at the thought of being caught
openly ogling him. He grinned and gave a half wave. She
nearly choked on the mouthful of croissant she'd been
chewing and stepped back, away from the telescope and into
the villa, out of sight, pretending she hadn't been looking
at him.
"Aphrodite?" she called.
"Yes, Miss Elena?" the maid asked as she stepped out of the
bathroom carrying used towels.
"Tell me, if I wanted to experience local life here on the
island, where would I go?"
Was it her, or was there a glint in the maid's eyes?
"You have asked exactly the right person, miss…"
Ari Metaxas dropped his towel on the teak deck of the
sailboat and lifted the pair of binoculars he'd been getting
a great deal of use out of, sweeping the island's cliffs,
looking again for the metal that the sun had glinted off. He
then swung the sailboat's boom around much quicker than
necessary, causing his older brother, Troy, to duck,
narrowly avoiding a date with the Aegean Sea.
Troy glared at him. Ari grinned as he secured the boom.
"Tell me again what the hell we're doing in Greece?"
He looked up at the villa patio, hoping to see the woman
he'd spotted through the binoculars, but she was long gone.
Taking her short, silky pink robe and long, tanned legs with
her.
His brother turned a page of the sheaf of papers in his
hands. If Troy wasn't reading a legal document of some sort,
he was preparing one. It was said of the two Metaxas boys
that when it came to the brain department, Troy had
inherited all the genes. Ari, on the other hand, laid claim
to the looks and charm.
Ari grimaced, wondering why anyone would think either of
them would be happy with those descriptions. Didn't it
insinuate that Troy was physically repulsive? And that Ari
was as dumb as doorknob?
"We're here," Troy said in the same monotone he'd used to
reply to the previous two questions Ari had asked, "because
Manolis Philippidis invited us."
"Ah, that's right. The old, rich Greek guy who's getting
married tomorrow, the one we're counting on and who's going
to help restore Earnest, Washington to its former glory."
He felt Troy's stare again.
That hadn't come out the way Ari intended. But he couldn't
help his sarcasm. It bothered him that their hometown was at
the mercy of a man who was interested in only the bottom line.
Of course, had the town founders been a little more aware of
the same over the past thirty years, perhaps Earnest
wouldn't be suffering a twenty-five percent unemployment
rate. The one-streetlight center was now little more than a
ghost town with more businesses boarded up than open.
While the closing of the Metaxas lumber mill four years ago
wasn't completely to blame for the town's woes, it was the
most recent event.
And it was what drove Ari and his brother to try to set
things right by bringing another, more solid business to the
area. One with green potential. An industrial unit to
develop and then produce advanced and efficient solar panels
that would replace the jobs lost and hopefully create a few
more.
Ari just wished that he and Troy had other prospects besides
Manolis Philippidis, who had been making them jump through
hoops over the past eight months with no guarantee that he
would ultimately sign on the dotted line.
"What number wife is this?" Ari asked.
"Three. Now are you going to let me be so I can review these
documents?"
Ari walked over to him and took the papers, slapping them
onto the table nearby. "Brother, we've been in Greece for
two days and I don't even think you've looked up once to see
what's around you."
Troy squinted at him and then glanced around at the islands
that rimmed the sea-filled caldera they were anchored in.
"There, I've looked."
Ari moved the documents away from Troy when he tried to pick
them back up. "Doesn't being here move you? This is the land
of our forefathers. The land of Atlantis. Of Mount Olympus
and Poseidon and—" he looked in the direction of the tall
island cliffs a couple hundred feet away "—of Eros and
Aphrodite."
Troy snatched the documents from his hands. "Yeah, I think I
see all of them drinking coffee at one of those cafés over
there." He sighed. "I actually met a guy named Plato this
morning at a bay grocer. Then again, that shouldn't surprise
me, considering our parents named you Aristotle." He shook
his head as if the last thing his younger brother should
have been named after was a philosopher. Ari didn't take
offense. He was used to the treatment. "Look, Ari, this
isn't a vacation. It's a business trip. If we finalize this
deal by tomorrow, a year's worth of work will finally come
to fruition." He gave a rare grin. "Then we can play."