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And now he was back.
Roula put her smile firmly in place and then knocked on the door.
She was met with familiar hazel eyes—but that was the only thing familiar.
Galen had not just grown from the lanky awkward youth she had last seen, he was very tall and although slim, somehow broad. His hair had always been clipped, but now it was worn longer and thicker, glossy and raven-black. Gone were the scruffy homemade clothes, and he was polished and elegant in his wedding suit.
Her breath hitched—for of course he would look different all these years on. But this new Galen, the thirty-something one, had hit her with an impact she had neither expected nor anticipated.
He was beautiful—and Roula had never contemplated male beauty before.
Ever.
Not even once.
He was standing there, phone in hand, dressed in a dark suit with a sprig of flowers in the lapel, a white shirt and silver tie. And, most noticeably, he was no longer awkward.
The awkward one was Roula, but she refused to acknowledge it, even to herself!
‘Sir, I’m...’
‘The guest services manager...’ Galen finished for her as he looked at her badge.
He was doing his level best to hold on to his patience, but name badges irritated Galen. Always had. Especially when the person wearing one introduced herself with the title on the badge... Especially when he’d already been told that the guest services manager would be with him shortly...
He took a breath, aware that he was not, despite smiling since the crack of dawn, having the best day. But then he really saw the name, and he looked up and met dark brown eyes and—Who could forget that hair?
‘Roula?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The guest ser...’
‘Roula Kyrios?’
‘Well, it’s Drakos now.’
‘Really?’Okay, not the best first response. Congratulations might have been better. But Galen didn’t correct himself.
Married? Well, of course she would be, living here. And Dimitrios... He cast his mind back. Well, Galen hadn’t moved in his circles, but he remembered him as good-looking and popular. As for Roula—well, she was seriously beau—
Galen abruptly halted his own thought process with a glance at her wedding ring.
‘How can I help?’ she asked.
Oh, yes, the Internet... Except this wasRoula!
‘So you’re the guest serv...?’ God, he was going to say those dreaded words again. He stopped himself. ‘Still living here?’
‘I am.’ She smiled patiently. ‘I was told that you wanted to speak to management.’
‘Yes—I’m having trouble getting online. I can’t even make a call.’
‘There’s no signal here. No internet either...’
‘Excuse me?’ He flashed her an incredulous smile.
‘It’s a health retreat. People come her for a digital detox—well, for many different types of detox, actually, but—’
‘No, no,’ Galen cut in. ‘I’m not here to detox. I’m here for a wedding. A wedding I only found out about on Thursday night.’
