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I forced myself to turn away first because I fucking had to.
I turned the key over and pulled out of the driveway in such a rush that the tires squealed against the pavement. I took off down the road and finally pulled in a breath.
I didn’t look back.
I couldn’t.
CHAPTER 3
Maci
As I fumbled with my keys at the door, my nerves tightened with uncertainty in my chest. Finally finding the right key and turning it in the lock, I couldn’t help myself. I turned back and locked eyes with him.
In that moment, time seemed to stand still. His gaze, intense and probing, had caught me entirely off guard. His eyes held a depth of feeling that went far beyond what a godfather and goddaughter should be, and that shared glance made my heart flutter in a way I couldn’t understand.
My cheeks heated, and my eyes, wide with both surprise and yearning, held his for a moment that seemed far too long.
My heartbeat stuttered when he was the one to break it off first.
Closing the door behind me, I pressed my back against the wall, my hand to my chest as I drew in a shaky breath.
What was that?
For a second time that day, I questioned the direction of my own mind. I leaned my head back against the wall, looking at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. My skin prickled with heat, and I swallowed heavily.
What was wrong with me?
I hadn’t seen my godfather since I was a little girl. I was too young to remember him, but I’d seen a few grainy pictures of him in the crowd at my parents’ funeral. I hadn’t looked at those in years though.
Seeing him in the police station for the first time was enough to make my heart seize in my chest.
His stormy grey eyes had met mine with a firm intensity. His well-trimmed beard framed an overly tense jawline, and his tousled dark brown waves hinted at a subtle disarray, like he’d run his fingers through his hair just a few moments before he’d walked in the door.
Dressed in a tailored suit, he looked nothing short of supremely powerful. The fabric clung to his form in a way that accentuated his muscular features, his strong shoulders, and his chiseled physique more than enough to capture my full attention. The stern expression etched on his face had made my stomach flutter with a sudden vat of nerves, and I’d had swallowed them back. His every feature, from his olive skin to his sculpted nose, screamed sophistication, authority, and control. His Greek heritage was written all over his face.
Yet in that moment, I hadn’t been able to help but feel myself drawn to him in a way that I shouldn’t have been. My gaze had lingered for far longer than it should have. In no world should I be having such thoughts. He was my godfather, a mentor figure at most, but my core had squeezed tight almost in open defiance of that.
It isn’t right…
Trying to ignore the direction of my thoughts, I turned and locked the door behind me.
Shaking off the distracting image of my godfather, I decided to retreat to my bedroom in an attempt to regain my composure. The warm glow of the familiar space provided a comforting contrast to the chaos that I’d gone through the last two nights.
I sniffed the air, realizing that the scent of stale coffee and sweat still lingered, and I slowly grasped that it had stuck to my clothing. Wanting to wash away not just the residue of the police station but also the confusing emotions that lingered, I decided to take a shower. I peeled my shirt over my head and tossed it in the hamper, along with my underwear and my jeans. Padding into the bathroom, I turned on the water and waited until steam was rising before I climbed inside.
I loved showers. They always felt so good, whether it was to start off the day or to bring it to a close.
The water flowed over me and worked its magic. The soothing warmth eased the tension in my muscles and offered a momentary escape from the whirlwind of my own mind. As the water droplets traced a gentle path down my skin, I let myself relax as much as I could, but thoughts of last night and Nikolaos Kaligaris kept creeping back in before I could stop them.
Shaking my head, I reached for the shampoo and pumped a bit into my hand. I wasted no time massaging it into my scalp, letting the heat of the shower pulse away the soreness that lingered from trying to sleep on a metal bench for two nights in a row. I scrubbed my skin until it was a rosy pink, wanting to wash away every bit of that police station from my body. When I was finally satisfied, I combed conditioner through my hair and finally rinsed off after a while longer. Then I climbed out.
Drying off with a towel, I walked out of the bathroom and into my closet to exchange it for the comfort of a soft nightshirt.
It had been so difficult to sleep in the holding cell. The bench had been too hard, and someone down the hall had been snoring loud enough to wake the dead, plus there hadn’t been a pillow or even a blanket to huddle beneath. The station had been quiet otherwise, but I hadn’t been able to get comfortable, not when I was scared and unsure of what was going to happen to me.
I glanced at my bed, yearning for the soft covers, and I gave into the urge. Climbing into bed, I pulled up the covers to my ears and snuggled within their warmth.
I closed my eyes, but I didn’t fall asleep. For a while, I just lay there, and I tried to count sheep and think sleeping thoughts, but instead my mind kept turning back to my godfather time and time again, and I couldn’t make it stop.
