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The time change will definitely kick my ass, but I won’t complain. I have always wanted to see Greece; therefore, I don’t mind losing some sleep. I will joyfully push through the heaps of exhaustion in order to see all the things this beautiful place has to offer. Besides, I believe they say the best thing for jet lag is to stay up until the next day starts, then sleep when night comes.
Maybe I made that up.
Who knows and who cares, because I’m in Greece!
Nico spends his time with his eyes glued to his phone, checking God knows what business, as I take in the city. We drive around the curves and bends of the mountain and into the small towns with uneven cobblestone roads and filled with locals. Our giant SUV could barely jolt to the left or right and cause havoc, and the driver is clearly aware of that, because he drives with steady caution.
Looking over at Nico, my eyes narrow and I click my tongue. “You know, if you look up, you would see and possibly enjoy what all that business on your phone buys you. You’re missing the sights.”
He releases a deep breath, giving me a sideways glance before locking his phone and looking up.
“I’ve been here before. I have seen enough. And money isn’t a worry of mine, Emelia, if you can’t tell.”
Shaking my head, I look out the window when we pass an alleyway. There are children kicking a ball around, and I smile over the simplicity.
“You know, there is this thing that men have been programmed to believe.” I wait.
He huffs. “Great, let’s hear this one.”
I smirk discreetly.“That all women are wowed by money. That power and expendable amounts of money make us go all weak in the knees. That’s a lie. Made up by men—for men.”
“So, my money and my experience in this world doesn’t get that beautiful cunt just a little wet?”
Any other man could say that word to me, and I would cringe, but he says it so smoothly, almost like it’s a word he invented to describe the beauty of a woman, and I nearly purr. Twisted, no?
God, yes, 100 percent, Emelia. What the hell is wrong with you?
But here I am. Enjoying the fuck yet only tolerating the fucker. However, at least there issomethingpleasing coming from this relationship. A woman should never be ashamed to get hers. Men have been doing it for years, so why shouldn’t we?
“Money has been around my whole life. Yours is no different. Don’t overinflate your ego; it’s already spilling over.”
“Oh, how mighty of you, Emelia. I would debate that out of the two us, your ego is the one overflowing.”
My eyes burn holes into his, but Nico doesn’t crack. I try to out-stare him, but the tension in the car grows, and the way he looks at me—like he’s fucking me with his eyes—is enough to have me backing down first. I hate that.
I mentally scold myself as I continue to look out the window. I’m sure I’ll have time to get him back with a snide remark, maybe prolong his orgasm, and for sure test his limits. Might as well make this fun while it lasts.
The only two things we have in common—we find joy in pissing each other off and fucking each other madly.
Minutes later, we arrive at the port, and I see the yacht a ways out, kissing where the water meets the sun. I hurry to open my door and meet him on his side, since I know he was going to try to open my door so his guards would think he’s the one in charge. I take a mental tally of points. That was for sure a hit to his ego.
He mumbles under his breath, then blurts out orders for his men to grab the luggage and move it to the dinghy. Even the small boat meant for quick transport from the dock to the yacht is nice. Nico really is a man who is overly proud of his money. You would think men like him wouldn’t flash their money around like it's nothing. Rich men with real power don’t have to brag.
I shrug to myself, and he lowers his glasses from his eyes, looking at me.
“What?”
“Nothing, Nico. Just thinking all kinds of things that would piss you off. Nice boat. Let’s go.” I step ahead of him, and he grabs my elbow firmly and pulls my back harshly to his front.
“Listen. The jabs are useless and unbecoming of a boss’s wife. Shape up, Emelia, or you will spend every moment of this honeymoon alone,” he sneers.
“What a dream,” I retort, smiling wickedly. I peer up and back at him, and he growls again before I yank my arm away. He stays there for a bit, and I all but skip to the boat with pride swelling wildly in my chest.
I know I re-waved the white flag during my apology last night, but this banter is all in good fun. We’re on our honeymoon, after all, and this shit is like foreplay for us.
I sit at the back and rest my arms on the rail of the boat, peering at the coastline. He takes the front, and I enjoy that space. I’ve spent my entire life in silence, and when I can be alone and not under the thumb of someone, it's peaceful. Every damn second.
The boat glides along the water, the coast fading, and the turquoise sea turns to deeper shades of blue. It’s a color I can’t describe, but it's breathtaking. The wind whips my hair and nearly becomes one with it, and my skin prickles with the right mix of chill from the wind and kiss of the sun.
