Page 54 of Slightly Married
While maintaining appropriate decorum, I studied Santo’s girlfriend. Her smile radiated warmth, and there was a refreshing authenticity in her demeanor.
“Well, well,” Dimitrios said, clapping my shoulder. “Look who finally decided to rejoin the world.”
From the doorway of the private viewing box, Aris cleared his throat. “If you’re quite finished with the reunion, the race begins in twenty minutes.”
We filed into the luxurious viewing box, the heavy glass door sealing behind us with a soft whoosh, instantly muffling the deafening roar of engines. I positioned myself beside Kayla.
Around us, engines roared and spectators cheered for the preliminary races. I observed Kayla’s animated conversation with Tia, noting how her eyes brightened when she laughed, how her hands moved expressively as she spoke. She’d been mine for just a month, yet I could no longer imagine my life without her vibrant presence.
Our time in Corfu had transformed something fundamental between us. I looked forward to her morning opinions on the news, appreciating how she challenged my perspectives without hesitation.
The quiet moments—watching her read on the balcony or work on styling projects—had become as essential to me as the passionate nights. I’d grown accustomed to her humming while applying her skincare, her tendency to kick off her shoes the moment she entered a room and the way she absently twisted her wedding ring when deep in thought.
Most surprising was how she’d notice when my leg pained me, wordlessly guiding me to sit before kneeling to massage thedamaged knee. That small ritual of care had become something I relied on.
When her hand found mine during a particularly close finish in one of the preliminary races, I interlaced our fingers. My thumb traced small circles on her wrist, savoring the connection that now felt as natural as breathing.
As the women became engrossed in their conversation, Dimitrios nudged my shoulder. “The betting booth closes in ten minutes. Coming?”
I glanced at Kayla. “I’ll be back shortly,” I told her, receiving a distracted nod in response.
I followed my brothers through the crowded VIP section to the private betting area. Dimitrios immediately engaged the attendant while Aris reviewed the odds sheet.
“Five hundred thousand on Santo,” Dimitrios announced confidently. Aris placed a more substantial bet.
When my turn came, I placed a million on my nephew without hesitation.
As Aristides stepped aside to take a call, Dimitrios studied me with curiosity. “Something’s different,” he observed, lowering his voice. “What happened between you and Kayla in Corfu?”
I maintained my neutral expression. “We came to an understanding.”
“An understanding?” Dimitrios laughed. “That’s what you call the way your eyes follow her every movement? I haven’t seen him hold anyone’s hand since Elana.”
I pocketed my betting slip. “We should return. The race will start soon.”
“Of course,” Dimitrios grinned. “Wouldn’t want to keep your wife waiting.”
As we made our way back to the women, I noticed a young man in a designer suit speaking with Tia. When Tia visibly recoiled, I began moving quicker in their direction.
The man opened his jacket, flashing a pocket stuffed with euros while murmuring something that made Tia’s expression transform from discomfort to disgust. Kayla then addressed the man, and he turned to my wife with a dismissive sneer.
In three deliberate strides, I closed the distance. I gripped his shoulder, yanking him backward. “You will apologize to both ladies immediately.”
The man stumbled, then straightened his jacket with an affronted glare. “Do you know who I am?”
“Someone who’s about to be escorted out,” Aris replied from behind me. “Unless you’d prefer I handle it personally.”
The threat in Aris’ voice was unmistakable. Two security personnel materialized promptly, grasping the offender by his arms and removing him despite his protests.
Tia thanked me, but the vicious whispers targeting her began immediately.
“Does she have the gall to be here, among decent people?”
“Did you hear? She has an STD. Gave it to him.”
“Wonder how many men she’s given it to, the slut. Shameless.”
I’d witnessed similar character assassinations throughout my life. My jaw tightened as I prepared to intervene, but Aristides moved first.
