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Liking the feeling of having her look at him, he continued reading the other lines in perfect Greek.
She had a shy smile on her lips when he finished. “Th-thank you.”
The blush was natural, and so was the stammer. He had always been enchanted by her simplicity, and now he was even more so.
“Why are you studying Greek?”
“Because I...like reading about the myths.”
He raised a brow. That was an uncommon answer. “There are English translations.”
“There’s something different about them when you read it in their original language,” she told him seriously.
He did his best not to smile. Like any Greek, he was raised to respect the myths even if they were just myths. It was refreshing to find someone outside Greece who seemed to feel the same. “What are your favorites?”
Interestingly, she blushed.
He was even more intrigued. He told her with a grin, “Now I’m even more determined to know what your favorite myths are.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m going to guess you probably like those with love stories?”
She gave him a small nod.
“Umm...Cupid and Psyche?”
She nodded, quickly, as if she was hoping he wouldn’t catch her doing so.
He grinned. “You girls always do.”
She made a face, as if his words had so irritated her that she forgot about being shy with him. “There’s nothing wrong about happy-ever-after love stories.”
He was even more amused, and he decided to tease her, drawling, “I don’t know about that. They can be cheesy, don’t you think? Also, it follows a formula. Boy meets girl, girl likes boy—-”
“It’s the little things that happen between boy meets girl and girl likes boy that make these stories special.” Her eyes were glowing now. “And each story has a unique couple, and that makes it special, too.” A dreamy look settled on her face. “You gotta be more imaginative. Like Cupid and Psyche – did they go on dates? Surely they had? But how’s that gonna happen if he’s invisible? Do they walk hand in hand? And what if a guy happened to see Psyche and try to hit on her? Cupid would be jealous, but since he’s invisible he can’t blame the other guy—-”
She stopped, as if only realizing how much she had said.
He told her honestly, “Don’t worry, I didn’t find any of it boring. Your imagination’s unbelievable though.”
“Only with love stories,” she confessed.
“Ah. Maybe you want to be an author someday and write romance novels?”
“No.” A mysterious smile played on her lips. “I don’t want to write the stories.”
The smile was as secretive as Mona Lisa’s, and it was only months later that he would come to know the truth behind it. By then of course it was too late. Everyone knew the truth, too, but it had been terribly twisted, the beauty of it marred by malice.
Mairi Tanner hadn’t wanted to write the stories she loved reading so much. She had wanted to live them instead. In her mind, Greek gods were Greek billionaires in life, and she – an ordinary girl – played the role of a mortal woman. Unfortunately, the others called her by a different name. In their minds, the role she played was that of a gold digger.
STAVROS WAS PULLED out of his thoughts by the ringing of his phone.
The detective he had set on Mairi’s trail said, “She’s come home, sir.”
“And Leventis?”
“Still in his office.”
“Keep me informed of his movement.”
It was time.
He was done waiting.
MAIRI HAD JUST FINISHED setting up the aquarium on the carpeted floor next to Damen’s luxurious recliner seat when her phone rang, almost causing her to jump.
Damen!
Did he remember now? Would he apologize?
But when she looked at her phone’s screen, an unidentified number flashed on it. Since she had caller ID installed, it only meant that it was a private number, purchased by someone who took his – her – privacy very seriously.
She answered the call hesitantly. “Hello?”
“Hello, Mairi.”
She gasped, instantly recognizing the voice. “Stavros?”
Chapter 15
“Yo, Mairi.” Stavros Manolis’ voice was grave when he said the words, but his eyes had an amused gleam that threatened to put Mairi’s cheeks on fire as his gaze slowly traveled all over her from head to toe, taking in her outfit. Cap worn inverted, dark glasses, large baseball jersey that she stole from Damen’s closet, and an old pair of denim shorts – also of Damen’s – which she had tightened with a chain belt. It was the best disguise she could come up with at such late notice.
The coffee shop Mairi had chosen as their meeting place was crowded and noisy, but his voice seemed gratingly loud and cheerful, each word coming to her perfectly clear.
“Yo.” She flashed him a weak smile. Yay, her: she had succeeded in making the normally stoic-looking Stavros Manolis laugh. Not.
She couldn’t believe she was sitting across Stavros Manolis. It felt like she was back in high school again, and anytime now she would be bullied because she thought it was her fate to marry a Greek billionaire.
