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“That no matter how much time passed, we belonged together.”
“If we didn’t see each other again, you would eventually find someone.”
He shakes his head, saying no. “I never loved anyone before you, and I will never love anyone after you,” he says, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I think I’m like my father. I can’t imagine him getting married again if something happens to Mom. I knew no one would ever replace you since we met.”
“I’m going to say goodbye to Yuri,” I say, pulling up my shorts but still not wearing a top. He walks into the closet, and from the way he’s looking at me, it’s like we didn’t just make love again after our bath.
“Yuri must be gone by now,” he replies, frowning.
We both know it’s a lie. The yacht is still moored in the marina.
I turn my face to the side, trying to understand why he looks so angry all of a sudden. “Are you jealous of your assistant?”
“Of course not.”
I hide a smile. “Don’t be silly.” I approach, still without a shirt or bra. “I’m yours, Greek.”
He holds my breast and massages the nipple with his thumb.
I groan.
“And yes. All mine now.”
I cling to him, my legs wobbly. It’s unbelievable the power he has over my body.
“Are you sure you want to go?”
The self-confidence in his tone makes me, even against my will, push him away.
“Cocky.”
He shrugs his shoulders but doesn’t deny it.
I put on a T-shirt. “I just want to thank him for what he did for myparents. With all the fuss of commercial filming and photo shoots, I didn’t have time. He’s a good friend, and I value people like him.”
“He is. Just don’t say it too much.”
“Jesus!” I laugh out loud, shaking my head. I just finish getting dressed and untangle my hair with my fingers. I don’t even wear sandals.
I run down the stairs and head straight for the marina.
“Yuri!”
He’s stepping onto Christos’s yacht, which will take the team, including the photographers, cameramen, makeup artists, and the two models, back to the shore. He turns back when I call him. “Zoe, has something happened?”
“No,” I say, breathless. “I just wanted to say thank you. You were very good to my parents, organizing both the clinic for Mom and the house for them to live in during the lockdown. I owe you an eternal debt of gratitude.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. I just did my job,” he says, seeming uncomfortable.
“That’smyjob. Take care of them, I mean. But you were wonderful. Thank you.”
I wave goodbye and turn my back to return to the mansion, but first, I hear the captain shouting that someone is missing aboard and that they have to leave before the storm hits.
I go inside two steps at a time, and after wiping my feet on the mat, I head upstairs to the second floor, where I hear Christo’s voice.
“Get dressed.” His tone is harsh and relentless.
Having no idea what’s going on, I walk to where I think he is—the kitchen.
