Page 36 of Slightly Married
“Maybe if you spent time at the villa with your new wife, you’d already know,” Santo replied.
Dimitrios laughed uproariously, but I felt my face harden at the unexpected barb. “Maybe you should stay out of grown folks’ business, youngster.”
Santo raised his glass in apparent surrender, but the glint in his eye told me he wasn’t finished. “Sure, I’ll stay out of it. I won’t even comment on the fact that Kayla has been keeping herself entertained by going out frequently with Yiorgos. They go off for hours—”
“Shut up, Santo.” Dimitrios’s voice dropped low.
“What are you implying?” I demanded, setting my glass down. Jealousy spread through my chest at the mention of Kayla and Yiorgos.
Santo shrugged, taking another slow sip. “While you’ve been off gallivanting with your fiancée, your wife decided she needed to create the baby you two should create with someone else. And Yiorgos has been filling that hole... I mean role.”
I told myself it was just Santo being a brat, but each word pierced me, and I fought to maintain my outward composure even as rage gathered within. The image of Kayla with Yiorgosinvaded my mind, and my jaw clenched as I struggled to curtail these unexpected emotions.
Memories of Elana’s smile and the way she’d looked at me before ultimately choosing Yiorgos flooded me. I’d buried those feelings years ago, convinced myself that losing her to him had been for the best.
But now, history seemed determined to repeat itself in the cruelest way possible. First Elana, now Kayla. Both gravitated toward Yiorgos instead of me.
The arrangement with Kayla was business, and I had no right to jealousy when I was engaged to Stella. Yet something wounded roared to life inside me.
“You’re a disrespectful little shit. We spoiled you. But you should have been spanked.”
“It’s our own fault,” Matthaios added with an infuriating smile.
“I should beat your ass now,” I threatened.
“You can try.”
I rose from my seat, eyes fixed on Santo, fury boiling inside me. The rational part of my mind knew he was baiting me. But the thought of Kayla with Yiorgos of all people overrode my usual self-control.
Without another word, I turned and stalked out of the restaurant, needing distance before I did something I would regret.
Matthaios hurried after me, calling out my name. I ignored him, desperate to leave Italy and return to Greece.
My cousin grasped my arm, stopping my trek. “What are you planning to do?”
“Teach my wife a lesson.” I shrugged him off and walked away.
I stabbed the elevator button repeatedly, as if the additional force might speed its arrival. Santo’s words echoed in my mind, each repetition stoking my anger further. The elevator doorsfinally opened, and I stepped inside, jabbing at the button for the penthouse suite.
The ride felt interminable. I loosened my tie, suddenly feeling constricted.
Kayla and Yiorgos?The very thought made me want to punch something. He was a former friend, and she was my wife.
When the elevator doors opened, I strode purposefully toward our suite. Inside, I found Stella face-down on a massage table in the center of the living room, a white-uniformed therapist working on her shoulders.
“Kostas!” she exclaimed, lifting her head. “You’re back early. I thought you’d be with your family for hours.”
“I’m returning to Greece,” I announced, already moving toward my bedroom. “Tonight.”
“Tonight?” She shifted to look at me. “But we have reservations at Valentino’s. My massage will be done in an hour—”
“I don’t have an hour,” I interrupted, pulling my suitcase from the closet. “I need to leave immediately.”
Stella dismissed the masseuse with a flick of her wrist and wrapped herself in the sheet, following me to the bedroom. “Surely whatever business this is can wait until morning?”
Stella had saved my life, stayed by my side through months of recovery. Her loyalty had never wavered. And here I was, abandoning her because of an unconfirmed suspicion about a woman I had repeatedly assured Stella was a business arrangement.
But the image of Kayla with Yiorgos burned through my conscience, overriding rational thought. I couldn’t explain this to Stella when I barely understood it myself.
