Helena may not have been as young as he and his brothers, but at least they’d had each other. She was alone in this world. With her only relative, a much older sister of her mom’s, dying several years ago, Helena had no family to speak of, no one to love and protect her, or stand by her through life’s trials and tribulations.
No one, until now, Raph thought, feeling his life’s trajectory shift.
By the time the crowd thinned, they were wrapped within each other’s arms in a dark alley beneath Dimitris’ terrace, lips locked in a passionate, explosive kiss that stole Raph’s breath and set his nerves on fire.
His need for her was primal, and the taste of her sweet and wild––a blend of wine and want that left him dizzy as he devoured all she offered. Their hips were in perfect alignment, and her back arched as he cupped her breasts, running his thumbs over her firm nipples through the silky material of her dress, her soft moans filling his mouth as she rubbed against his arousal.
He was aching to explore every inch of her in the privacy of his bedroom, desperate to show her with his body what words couldn’t express––that she’d awakened something fierce and consuming in him.
And the scent of her was intoxicating––rosemary and olive oil soap, evoking memories of summer evenings with his grandmother, before tragedy befell his family, and he was taken from the small, arid island of his birth, the home he still loved.
“Helena!” Anna whispered softly from the terrace above.
They broke apart, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.
“Helena, we’re leaving! Meet me out front.”
Raph felt like their future hinged on this moment, and what was said and done next. He stared at her as a gentle breeze swept her hair across her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen, and Raph couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
Her smile was sly as she raked her nails up his arms––still wrapped around her waist. “So soon?”
“Not soon enough,” he confessed unashamedly, brushing his lips against hers, breathing in her wild essence.
They exchanged numbers, a charged silence hanging between them, speaking louder than any words, and Raph found himself memorizing the way moonlight caught in her blue eyes.
“Tomorrow?” he asked again, praying he wouldn’t have to hound Anna in the coming months to help him arrange a date with Helena. Because he knew if not tomorrow, if not the next day, his heart would shatter if he didn’t see her again.
Her slightly mischievous smile, the bright flame in her eyes, told him “yes”, though all she said was, “Call me, and we’ll see,” before she turned and slipped back up the stairs along the side of Dimitris’ house.
Raph lingered on the terrace, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat thrumming through his body. He touched his lips, the faint taste of her kiss still there, and the fading scent of her on his skin. He couldn't explain the overwhelming feeling in his heart, at least not with reason or logic. It was as though his world had tilted off its axis, and for the first time in his life, he felt something he couldn’t categorize or control.
He didn’t think he minded at all.
Chapter Two
No Mortal Man
September, Los Angeles, California…
Helena steered her white Mercedes along Sunset Boulevard, her windows rolled down slightly, letting the warm, west coast breeze tangle her loose hair. Her skin glistened beneath her blush pink, cotton-ribbed knit dress, and the afternoon sun beat down on her bare shoulders through the sunroof, but she refused to turn on the air conditioning, having always found pleasure in the California heat. It reminded her of summer days spent walking the beaches and hills surrounding Athens with her mom, as she sought inspiration in the natural world.
She’d just left a meeting with her client, Ni Luh––an Indonesian tech mogul who lived in Pacific Palisades––and desperately needed to get home, shower, and prepare for the busy week ahead. Ni Luh had an insatiable appetite for contemporary Southeast Asian art, and her recent obsession with a reclusive portrait artist meant a flight to the Philippines in two days to meet with the introverted painter at his home in Manila.
She had never seen Ni Luh so excited about a potential acquisition, and as one of only a handful of women on her client roster, Helena was devoted to making her happy. But the opportunity meant Helena would have to postpone her trip to San Fransico this weekend.
Luckily for her, the man devoted to making her happy, understood the demands of her career.
She should be thinking about packing, and travel arrangements, and securing a sitter for her one-year-old calico kitten, Thea––a rescue from the Los Angeles Humane Society––but her mind was four-hundred miles away in San Francisco.
It had been six weeks since Dimitris’ party in Oía, and in that time, she and Raph had spent every possible moment together. His work life mirrored Helena’s more closely than one might expect—the impromptu meetings, the way they might have to jet across the country, or to the other side of the world at a moment’s notice––but the unpredictability of their schedules kept things exciting, making every moment they had together feel like it was both the first and the last.
Their weekend getaways were divine, with spontaneous trips to Santa Barbara, Paso Robles, and Carmel, where they’d lose themselves in good wine and deep conversation. Dinners were leisurely and intimate, whether at an exclusive restaurant in San Francisco, or curled up on her couch with Thea, take-out, and a good movie. And the fact that he spoke fluent Greek, and understood the cultural nuances that shaped her worldview, was icing on what tasted like an already perfect cake.
And the sex…
Helena bit her bottom lip and smiled as she turned off Sunset onto Los Liones Boulevard.
The sex was absolutely divine. The first time they’d slept together––the night of their first date in California two weeks after they’d met––she’d thought it was a fluke. Unable to believe that a mere mortal man could make her come so many times in so many ways, Helena had been convinced that Rapheus Giannopoulos was a god. And every time they were together, he found a new button to press, a new, sweet sentiment to whisper in her ear as she crashed beneath him, over and over again, like waves against a cliff.
