“Hi,” she managed.
Georgia stepped back. “You alright, babe? Oh, I’m proper buzzing to meet you!” She turned an exasperated look on Nik and said, “Did you tell Varo about this? Cuz if you’ve told him and he ain’t told me—”
“Calm down,” Nik said. “I didn’t mention it. Didn’t want to cause a fuss. Aria’s very private.” This was the line they had agreed upon.
“Oohhhhh,” Georgia said. She gave Aria a sympathetic look. “I completely understand. I was just saying to Laurie yesterday—you’ll meet Laurie, when she drags her arse out of bed.” Georgia launched into a truly astonishing cackle that lasted approximately three seconds before ending abruptly. “I was saying, people overshare so much these days. Especially with social media. No-one needs to know if me and Varo are nipping down the beach for a shag, do you know what I mean? That’s not IG story material! But some people, oh, I could go on all day.”
“Really,” Nik agreed solemnly. “She could.”
Georgia tossed her acres of sunshine hair in a disdainful sort of way and said, “Shush, you!” Then she turned back to Aria. “So, what’s going on? How did this happen? Where did youse meet?” She grinned like a kid awaiting a bedtime story.
Aria offered her best impression of shyness—which wasn’t great, since she’d never been shy—and said, “Oh, it’s kind of a funny story.”
A story she’d rehearsed several times, in preparation for this moment. They’d decided to stick close to the truth, but Nik kept harping on about delivery. Apparently, they had to be convincing, or his friends wouldn’t believe a word of it. He’d never had a girlfriend before, or a boyfriend, for that matter, so he predicted shock.
Clearly, when it came to relationships, the two of them were polar opposites.
But Aria intended to earn her hundreds of thousands of pounds—damn, those words felt good, even in her mind—so she was ready to put on the best performance of her life. Until Nik pulled her into his arms so suddenly she forgot how to breathe.
“She kissed me,” he said, staring down at her with more love in his eyes than she’d seen from her own damn mother. “We bumped into each other at the hotel, and she just… grabbed me and kissed me.”
It was disturbingly easy to melt against his broad chest, to smile up at him in fond, mock-censure. “You asked me to kiss you, Nik.”
“And I thought you were going to say no.”
“I didn’t say anything. I was thinking.”
“Well, you took your bloody time,” he said, sounding for all the world like a sheepish, smitten bastard.
“But I got there in the end,” Aria replied, her voice sickeningly soft. She hadn’t known she could act like this. She was almost scaring herself. If the look on her face was even close to the adoring stare on his, they both deserved an Oscar. A joint Oscar. Was that a thing? Well, it should be.
“Oh my God!” Georgia squealed, clapping her hands together. She jumped up and down, and her magnificent chest bounced like a pair of melons rolling down someone’s front steps. Aria mentally filed the image away for the boob job she was never going to get, but constantly considered. “You,” Georgia cried, pointing at Nik, “are in love!”
Nik’s reaction wasn’t half as negative as it should be. “Oh, come on G,” he said cheerfully. “Don’t stress me.” But Aria caught his cocky little wink. And she definitely caught the way he looked down at her through those thick, sooty lashes, dragging his teeth over that lush lower lip.
As if he were ready to fall.
“I think that went well,” Nik said, as he set down their suitcases and shut the bedroom door. They were in the room Varo usually gave him, right at the top of the house and almost alone, but complete privacy was necessary. No point hiring a (fake) fake girlfriend if anyone could pass by and overhear the fact that she was, you know, fake.
When Aria didn’t answer, he turned to find her standing in the middle of the room, staring at the queen-sized bed. Nik smiled and ran a hand through his hair, stretching out the aching muscles in his back. “Yeah, the room’s amazing. I love this house.”
Abruptly, Aria turned to him, her focus on the bed forgotten. “What was that?”
Nik’s smile faded. He wasn’t exactly an expert in social interaction, but her tone did not sound positive. “What was what?”
“That. Down there. I know the point is to fake this, but…” she gave a brittle, nervous sort of laugh. “I didn’t know you were that good an actor.”
“Was I… supposed to be bad?” Nik asked slowly. Then he realised what he was saying and frowned. “Wait, what? I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”
For a moment, she just looked at him with something steely in her gaze. She was beautiful, of course, even after the flight. He was starting to think she couldn’t not be beautiful. Her hair was dark, now, and longer than it had been when they met. She was wearing shorts and a vest, but the way she wore them—he couldn’t even describe it. Something about her commanded attention, and it was sexy as hell.
At that moment, though, she seemed fragile despite her power. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched him almost warily, as if expecting him to turn into a monster before her eyes. The tension swelled for several rigid seconds. But then she shook her head and slowly seemed to relax.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m going on about. You just shocked me. I didn’t know you could lie like that.”
He grimaced at the word. Lie. He hadn’t felt as if he was lying downstairs, but he supposed he must’ve been. And he was definitely lying to her, kind of. Sort of. Was paying an extortionate amount of money to keep her with him under false pretences a lie?
No. That is the behaviour of a potential serial killer.
Oh, for God’s sake.
“It was easy,” he admitted, “to… perform love. Because I’ve seen so much of it. My parents, before my father died. My sister and her husband. I wouldn’t say I’m a good liar, but that I can do.”
The last bit of hesitancy left her expression. “That’s sweet. I wish I could say the same,” she chuckled, wandering around the room, from the ornate vanity he’d never used to the huge, glass-panelled wardrobe. “My parents fucking hate each other.”
The humour in her voice startled a laugh out of him. He almost forgot the unease that had cloaked her moments earlier; in fact, she seemed to have forgotten it. Maybe it was just nerves. It was easy to forget that she could feel something so mundane, because everything about Aria was bold and fearless—but their situation was pretty fucking weird, and she had vulnerabilities like everyone else. She must. Despite how perfect he found her, she was only human.
“Not a happy family?” he asked.
She smirked as she walked past him into the bathroom. “God, no. But divorce is a sin, so on they trudge.” She looked at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Fucking kill me now. Oh, look, there’s little moisturisers in here, like a hotel.”
“That’s G. She takes these parties very seriously.”
“She’s a sweetheart,” Aria said. Nik felt something in him relax, something he hadn’t even realised was there. He wanted her to like his friends. He needed her to, almost.
“Eventually,” Nik blurted out, “I’d like to be like my parents. Or my sister. Or even Georgia and Varo. It’s ridiculous how much they love each other. That’s what I want.” He had no idea why he’d said that. They weren’t even on that topic anymore. They’d moved on to little moisturisers, for fuck’s sake, but apparently his mind hadn’t gotten the message.
Still, Aria didn’t question it. She leaned forward to reach the cabinet over the massive marble counter. Her top rose up, and he tried not to stare too much at the expanse of lower back it revealed. “That’s funny,” she said lightly. “That you’re so into true love, I mean, but you’ve got yourself a fake girlfriend.”
If only she fucking knew. “Well, I’ve always wanted love, but in a distant sort of way. I suppose…” He faltered as a
realisation hit him. It wasn’t a particularly flattering one, but he said it anyway. “I suppose I assumed it would fall into my lap, like everything else. So I never put any effort into romance.”
“Hm.” She caught his eye in the mirror. “I feel like you’re expecting me to judge you here.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to get paid.”
He snorted, even as the words scratched at his heart. “I’m aware. So, what about you, chrysí mou?”
She smirked. “See, you think I’m gonna ask you what that means, so you can tell me some romantic shit and I’ll swoon.”
“Ah... What?” Nik blinked.
“Cut the Greek. You know it sounds sexy. And you just can’t stop being a dirty little flirt.” Aria winked as she strutted out of the bathroom. Her hip brushed his as she passed through the door, and Nik’s mind scrambled. Did she really think Greek was sexy? And what did it mean that she’d called him dirty with that teasing smile on her face and that sparkle in her eyes? And why was he trying to figure out ways to get her to say it again?
Wait, what were they talking about?
Oh, yes. He hid his confusion—and his frankly excessive arousal—behind the best smirk he could muster, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. “You didn’t answer my question. What about you?”
“About me?” She hauled her suitcase onto the bed—impressive, because that thing weighed a ton—and started the lock combination.
“Do you want to find love?”
Aria rolled her eyes. “I found it. Several times. Never quite got the hype. Love is like a diamond: costs a lot, has a great rep, but at the end of the day it’s just a shiny rock. It has no purpose and no value beyond what we’ve assigned to it. Most people just want to say they’ve got one.”
He gaped as she opened her suitcase and sorted through a pile of glittery fabrics. He had never, in all his life, heard such a cynical analysis of love. And he’d been a pro footballer since he was seventeen.
The beast she’d awoken inside him was howling its displeasure. It demanded that he prove her wrong, that he change that hard set to her pretty mouth and light up the shadows that wreathed her words. But before he could even begin, Aria looked up and flashed him a smile. “No offence,” she said wryly.
Nik choked down his impassioned responses and said, “None taken.”
Chapter Six
The household staggered into life by 3 P.M. Where Nik led, Aria must follow, so she was relieved to find that his plans for the day revolved around the villa’s pool. He spent the afternoon thrashing about in the water with his mates, a series of men whose names she was never going to remember.
She paid attention only to the ones she’d already heard. Like Alvaro, or Varo, Nik’s best friend and Georgia’s boyfriend. He was a handsome Spaniard, if you were into the long-hair-and-bottomless-eyes thing. His ink was fantastic, too. And he seemed just as sweet as Georgia, if slightly quieter.
Then there was Kieran, a Brit with dark skin and a shy smile that made Aria’s heart melt. She found shy people fascinating, probably because she absolutely could not relate. Whatever the reason, she liked Kieran on the spot. His girlfriend, Laurie, was less easy to warm to—not because there was anything wrong with her, but because she only spoke French. Aria had failed French at school, along with almost every other subject. She did manage a mangled sort of “Comment ca-va?” though. Laurie, unsurprisingly, was not particularly impressed. But they had Georgia for company on the sun loungers, nattering away non-stop and translating parts of the conversation.
“I’ve told everyone about you,” Georgia was saying happily. “I ran through the house, I did, after youse got here! I shook all these lazy buggers awake and told ‘em, Nik’s got a girl!”
Thank you, Georgia, for doing half of my work for me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.
“Course, most of ‘em fell right back to sleep.” Georgia rolled her eyes. “Honestly. They best be ready to go by tonight, at least!”
“You guys take this party pretty seriously,” Aria murmured, most of her attention on her sketchbook. She stared at the little 3-D heart she’d just finished shading. What should she write in the centre? Get fucked? Or Dior slut?
“You’re damned right we do!” Georgia cried. “Especially the lads. They don’t get much time to relax.”
Aria flicked a gaze over to the pool. The guys, plus a couple of girls she hadn’t met yet, were playing some sort of raucous game involving three footballs and a series of highly questionable underwater tackles. “The poor dears,” Aria deadpanned. “They seem so stressed.”
Georgia snorted out a laugh. “Oh, you and Nik are so perfect for each other. I bet he absolutely dies over you! Bless him.” She chuckled as if Aria and Nik pairing up was the sweetest event in modern history. Then she said something in French and Laurie started laughing too. Georgia must be some kind of linguistic genius, because earlier on she’d been speaking fluent Spanish with Alvaro. Then there was Kieran, who must speak French to date Laurie—and, of course, Nik, who spoke two languages at least.
Aria made a mental note to download DuoLingo.
“Do you fancy a bagel, babe?” Georgia asked suddenly. “I’ve really got a hankering, you know. Love a bagel, me.”
“Oh, no thanks.”
“Laurie, veux-tu un bagel?”
“Oui, merci,” Laurie drawled. Aside from the movement of her bee-stung lips, the brunette remained completely still. She reminded Aria of a cat lounging on hot concrete.
As Georgia hustled off, Aria wondered if sketching Nik right now—those thick muscles dripping wet and glistening in the sun—would count as work. Because if she was his real girlfriend, she’d probably draw him. So, as his fake girlfriend…
“He-llo.”
Aria looked up sharply at the shadowy figure looming over her. “Uh… hi?”
The figure sat down on the sun lounger Georgia had just vacated. Now he was out of the sun, Aria saw an unusually tall man whose low-slung trunks displayed a lean, cut, tattooed body. Unfortunately, the tattoos were shit. His hair surrounded his face in loose caramel curls, the kind white children had sometimes, and his eyes were a bright, startling green. He gave her a grin that displayed deep dimples and strange teeth. Each one looked like a twin of the next, identical in size and shape, shoved into his mouth like a shiny, white brick wall.
Perhaps they were bad veneers. What a shame.
“I’ve never seen you before,” the man said, leaning back on his hands in a way that sort of… puffed out his chest. He ran his eyes over her body, brows raised, and she became slightly conscious of her tiny bikini. “I’m Baxter.”
Ah. There was another name she’d heard. Nik didn’t like this guy. He hadn’t said so, of course; she got the feeling he’d never say anything unkind. But when they’d been running over the endless guest list on the place, he’d sneered slightly as he said Cam Baxter’s name.
“I’m Aria,” she said, offering the man a tight smile.
He gave a leisurely nod that could only be described as arrogant. “Who are you with?”
She cocked a brow, her irritation piqued. “Who says I’m with anyone?” But wait—that didn’t sound very I’m-so-excited-to-be-Nik’s-girlfriend, now, did it? Slapping on a smile, she added quickly, “But I am. Obviously. Just…”
Baxter’s brows drew together as she stumbled over her words. Oh, fuck. This wasn’t going well. When all else fails, flirt. Aria set her sketchbook aside and mirrored the man’s posture, thrusting out her own non-existent chest. His gaze flickered, not to her tits, but down to her thighs. Good enough.
“Why don’t you see if you can guess?” she asked, making her voice as breathy as it was ever gonna get. Maybe the Marilyn Monroe impression would draw attention away from her rambling mouth.
“Alright,” he drawled, looking over at the pool. She followed his gaze and found the weird ball game still going strong.
Exc
ept for Nik, who stood in the middle of the watery pitch, glaring directly at them.
Oh, dear. Was she not supposed to talk to Baxter? Oops.
“I’m going to guess,” Baxter murmured, “that it’s Nik, since he’s looking over here like he wants to murder me. But if you are with Nik, you won’t be for long—”
“Charming,” she snorted. “Do you often get to know people by insulting them?”
His confidence faltered a little, that odd smile slipping. “Well, I… I just meant, Nik only does casual, so if you’re interested in—”
“Nik’s my boyfriend, actually. And he’s coming over here.” Why is he coming over here?
Aria watched his progress with a combination of alarm and appreciation. Alarm because he had a smouldering sort of rage-y look on his face that she’d never actually seen before. Appreciation also because of that smouldering look, along with the droplets of water sliding down his deliciously muscular legs. Lord, the man had some thighs. She supposed it made sense, considering his profession, but damn.
“Boyfriend?!” Baxter’s expression betrayed a hint of worry, which was smart. Because, while Nik was a sweetheart with a constant smile, he also gave off this low thrum of dangerous energy, the kind that suggested he wasn’t to be messed with.
And Aria, she reminded herself, was not at all attracted to that. Not in the slightest.
Ah, Cam Baxter. A storm cloud on a sunny day. A shit in a showroom toilet. The man was more adept at ruining Nik’s mood than he was at keeping—and, Nik’s hatred aside, he had to admit Baxter was a damned good keeper. The twat.
Whack—Kieran’s hand landed between Nik’s shoulder blades in what the short, circumspect full-back probably considered a friendly pat. “Head in the game, Christou.”
Nik grunted in reply. His glower remained pinned to Aria and Baxter, chatting away on the sun loungers. Truthfully, he’d spent half the afternoon staring at Aria from the corner of his eye, anyway—she was pretty fucking easy to stare at. Especially in that shimmering string bikini, blue as the pool and tiny enough to display a body he could drown in.
Sweet on the Greek: An Interracial Romance (Just for Him Book 3) Page 5
