The Greek's Green Card Bride - A Billionaire Romance

by Holly Rayner

  “I thought I was going to have to cut in front of you,” a deep, accented voice said. The accent sounded Mediterranean, and the voice was attractive and warm, and flavored with a flirtatious tone.

  She glanced behind her to see who was speaking, and immediately her heartbeat sped up. It was the handsome guy she and Nikki had spotted in the alley, just moments before. He was even more attractive up close.

  His black, wavy hair was pushed back from his forehead as if he had a habit of running a hand through it. Angular brows capped his dark eyes, which sparkled with lively awareness. Stubble covered his chin and jawline, framing his full lips. His skin, everywhere that it was visible, was bronzed as though he spent hours on the beach. The black T-shirt he wore hugged his muscular pecs, biceps, and abs. He wore a gold bracelet on one wrist, slate gray dress pants, and sandals.

  She felt herself blush as she recalled the sight of him bare-chested

  “Oh—you can go ahead if you’re in a hurry,” she said, stepping aside.

  “I’m just teasing,” he said, the corner of his lips rising up in a playful smile. “I’ve got all day. Did you get good photos? The light is pretty good right now for it.”

  She smiled and nodded. “I think so. It’s incredible what phones can do these days. My friend is in the band, and I figure he could use the shots for a social media post or something.”

  “That’s nice of you,” the guy said. His eyes lingered on her features, as if he was appraising her. She felt slightly self-conscious, but also flattered by his lingering look.

  “I’m Dimitris,” he said, after a moment.

  “Eva,” she said.

  “So you’ve seen these guys play before?” he asked, motioning to the bandstand.

  “A few times, actually,” Eva said. “My friend’s husband is the guitarist.”

  “He’s good,” Dimitris said with a nod of approval. “I liked the last song.”

  The line shifted forward.

  “They just wrote that one,” Eva said as she took a few steps ahead. “I like it, too. But my favorite is one that they’ve been playing for years, called ‘Tumbleweeds.’ I hope they haven’t played it yet.”

  “So you’re going to stick around and listen for a while?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah, definitely,” Eva told him. “My friend Nikki is here too, and she always stays until the end of her husband’s shows… How about you?”

  He grinned, as though he was happy that she was asking. “Well, yeah, I guess I am.”

  Eva felt a rush of excitement course through her as he said this. His words were laden with double meaning, as if he was deciding right then and there to listen to the show because he wanted to be in her presence. She really liked that. She felt as though the air between them was charged with intense, electric energy. He was so gorgeous, dark, and intriguing, and she was incredibly flattered by the way he was looking at her—as if he was appreciating her beauty.

  Eva didn’t think of herself as beautiful, though she knew that some people perceived her that way. She was used to hearing flattering statements from guys, but she rarely reacted. But there was something about the way Dimitris was complimenting her without words, simply by letting his gaze linger on her features and frame, that deeply affected her.

  For the first time in ages, she felt pretty.

  They reached the front of the line. “Two lemonades,” Eva said, holding up two fingers.

  “Make that three,” Dimitris said, as he laid a fifty-dollar bill up on the countertop. He turned to Eva. “I’m buying,” he said.

  His voice carried so much authority that she didn’t even think twice about accepting his offer. “Thank you,” she said, sliding the wallet that she’d removed from her purse back into its compartment. “That’s sweet of you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said.

  The vendor placed three drinks on the counter, and then moved to get change for Dimitris. “Keep it,” Dimitris said.

  Wow, Eva thought. Handsome, and generous, too. Either that, or he doesn’t understand US currency very well. She could tell from Dimitris’s accent that he was from another country, possibly Greece.

  With drinks in hand, they headed over toward the gathering in front of the stage.

  Eva motioned to where Nikki was standing, bobbing her head to the music. “That’s my friend Nikki,” she said. “You’re welcome to come watch the show with us, if you like.”

  “I’d love that,” he said warmly.

  Eva was struck by how self-confident he was. He carried himself with an air of self-assuredness that she rarely saw in other men. It was as though he was completely comfortable with himself.

  When they joined Nikki, Eva introduced Dimitris.

  Nikki’s eyes grew wide, and Eva worried that her friend would make some embarrassing remark about how they’d seen Dimitris in the alleyway on their way to the show. Thankfully, Nikki kept her lips zipped on that topic, and instead asked Dimitris a few polite questions about his travel plans.

  The band picked up steam and broke into a string of songs that were louder and more upbeat than the ones they’d opened the show with. For the next hour or so, the three of them enjoyed the music, Eva and Nikki chatting with Dimitris between songs.

  As the show wrapped up, Nikki excused herself so that she could go help Clint pack up his gear. She gave Eva a meaningful look as she departed, and Eva knew just what it transmitted—do not let this guy out of your sight.

  Eva didn’t have to be told twice. She was enjoying her time with Dimitris, and she didn’t want the afternoon to end.

  “Are you hungry?” Dimitris asked once they were alone.

  “Famished,” Eva admitted.

  “Want to grab a bite together?” he asked. “I was in meetings all day, and I skipped lunch. I feel like I could eat a horse. Isn’t that the expression, in English?”

  Eva laughed and made a mock grimace by scrunching up her nose. “It is—and it’s one of my least favorite sayings. Who would really eat a horse? Yuck! I don’t like that one or ‘I’ll keep my eyes peeled.’”

  “I promise not to say either of those again,” Dimitris said with a grin.

  She nodded. “Then I’d be happy to get dinner with you.”

  Dimitris pointed to a building across the way. The wharf was lined with seafood restaurants. “How about Cindy’s Boathouse?” he asked, as he read the golden script above the front door.

  “I love Cindy’s,” Eva said. “The fried shrimp basket is killer, and she has the best house IPA on tap.”

  “Killer?” Dimitris repeated. He headed in the direction of the restaurant, and Eva was surprised at how natural it felt to fall into step with him.

  “Yeah, killer,” she said. “Oh, right. English is your second language. It’s just a saying that means really good.”

  “Ah,” he said. “And you’re okay with that saying? It’s not as bad as keeping your eyes peeled?”

  Eva laughed. “Hey! You promised not to say that!”

  Dimitris’s deep laughter bubbled like a brook. “My mistake,” he said.

  There was a small crowd near the entrance to Cindy’s, and Eva watched a couple approach the podium that was positioned near the door. The hostess, a girl who looked like she’d just graduated high school, made a note in the binder in front of her. The couple turned away, and Eva caught a fragment of their conversation as they passed.

  “An hour and a half wait… that’s just ridiculous!” the woman said with disgust.

  “Must be because the concert just finished,” the man grumbled.

  Eva turned to Dimitris. “We should probably go somewhere else,” she said to him. “I just heard that couple say there’s an hour and a half wait to be seated.”

  “And forgo a killer basket of fried shrimp?” Dimitris teased. “No way. Let me go see what I can do.”

  Eva waited at the edge of the crowd and watched Dimitris weave through bodies on his way to the hostess’ stand. She was sure he’d be turned away, so
she started running through alternative restaurants in her head.

  As she mentally considered their options, she watched Dimitris exchange words with the hostess. He pulled a bill from his wallet, handed it to her, and then spoke a few more words and flashed a polite and charming smile. Eva could see the young woman practically melting in his presence. In fact, every woman they’d passed had done a double-take in Dimitris’s direction. His good looks were arresting, and more than a little unique.

  As he made his way back through the crowd, Eva saw that he looked satisfied.

  He beckoned her forward. “They’re going to seat us up on the rooftop,” he said. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

  “The rooftop is prime seating!” Eva said. “Those tables are always the first to go. How did you manage that?”

  “I have my ways,” Dimitris said.

  The hostess showed them to their table. She had to gather up the remains from the last diners, which included a few pint glasses and two paper-lined red baskets, and then she wiped the table down.

  “Your server will be right with you, Mr. Atheos,” she said. “And I’ll bring two IPAs as you requested.”

  “Wow—Mr. Atheos,” Eva said, as the hostess disappeared back down the stairs. “You really made an impression on her.”

  “I guess I did,” Dimitris said casually. He leaned back in his chair and took in his surroundings.

  Eva watched his eyes rove the rooftop, and then return to her. She liked the feel of being the focus of his attention.

  “You’re used to being called ‘Mister,’ aren’t you?” she guessed.

  “I’m in business,” he said. “I have employees. Some of them call me by my first name, but not all. Over the years, I’ve gotten used to it. I am almost forty, after all. Well, thirty-six. How about you?”

  For a moment, Eva thought he was asking her how old she was. She had no problem with telling him she was thirty, but it seemed uncharacteristic of him to ask such a direct question. He seemed so socially adept and aware of how his actions and remarks affected those around him.

  Before she could answer, he clarified his questions. “I mean, are you a ‘Miss’ or do you go by Eva?”

  Eva was bemused at the thought of her colleagues at The Red Door Grille calling her Miss Sharpe. She still hadn’t gotten used to the last name she’d adopted six years prior, when she’d moved from Long Island to Washington DC. She’d left so much behind in Long Island, including her old identity.

  The thought made her stomach tighten with familiar anxiety. She pushed it away and focused again on the bizarre scenario of the staff at the restaurant addressing her with such formality.

  “Where I work, we mostly just get each other’s attention by saying ‘hey!’ or ‘yo!’’’

  “I take it you’re not in business, then,” Dimitris said with a chuckle.

  “Nope. I’m in the restaurant industry. I’m a hostess at a grill up in Penn Quarter.”

  “Ah! Really? Funnily enough, I’m going to be in that area tomorrow evening. My assistant scheduled a trip to the Cutler Gallery for me, for an art opening. She also made reservations for me at a restaurant just down the block from the gallery at six, which should be really good. Or should I say—killer.” He grinned.

  Eva giggled. “There you go,” she said. “I think you should try using that phrase in your next business meeting. So, you like art?”

  “Love it,” he said. “If I wasn’t so obsessed with my work, I like to think I’d do something creative with my time. How about you?”

  Before Eva could answer, the server appeared, carrying a small tray with two glasses of beer on it. He lowered the tray, placed the beers on the table, and then went about introducing himself. Dimitris handled the order by requesting two baskets of fried shrimp. He looked to Eva to see if she had anything to add, but she declined.

  As Dimitris chatted with their server for a moment about the view, Eva mused over the fact that Dimitris had a creative side. She’d guessed that, because of the way his hair was just slightly longer and wilder than most businessmen she met. The wraparound gold bracelet was a tip-off, too.

  He said he was obsessed with work, but he was nothing like the suit-wearing men that filled the city to the brim. So many of those men seemed to move on autopilot, as though they were sleepwalking through life. Dimitris, on the other hand, struck her as a person who was intent on enjoying life to the fullest.

  Her thoughts turned to the way he had ordered for her. He was acting as though they were on a date. Were they?

  As Eva turned the details of the evening over in her mind, she realized that they were. Dimitris was so good at making her feel comfortable and relaxed that she didn’t at all have that nervous, first-date feeling.

  There was a sensation of giddiness, she realized, in the pit of her stomach. It was pleasant and made her feel more alert than usual to her surroundings. The rooftop deck was surrounded by a wall that was painted bright turquoise and lined with twinkling white lights. The aroma of food, the sound of happy conversations, and even the faint humming sound of traffic on the city streets beyond all came together to create a bouquet of sensations.

  “Cheers,” Dimitris said as the waiter departed. “To a beautiful night, spent in good company.”

  Eva tapped her glass against his.

  The IPA tasted even better than she remembered. Their conversation flitted from one topic to another, and Eva found herself enjoying Dimitris’s company more and more as the sun sank low over the river, and then disappeared entirely.

  She liked hearing about his home country, Greece, and the travel adventures he’d had all over the world. She, in turn, told him about her love for painting, and what it was like to live and work in DC.

  After two beers, shrimp, and a shared dessert of chocolate cheesecake, Eva let Dimitris guide her back down to the street. It was late, and she knew that she should be getting home to bed if she wanted to have a hope of functioning well at work the next morning. And yet, she didn’t want to leave Dimitris’s side.

  It was a strange feeling, knowing that he was only in town for a short while. Though it was sad to know that their evening together couldn’t lead to any sort of relationship, given the fact that Dimitris lived in Greece, it was also liberating. She didn’t have to overanalyze her every move, as she often found herself doing on first dates with other men.

  She wasn’t worried about the implications of a kiss, so when Dimitris leaned in, just before the cab she’d called arrived, she met his lips with hers without hesitation.

  The kiss was warm, passionate, and tasted like chocolate.

  Eva wished it could have lasted forever. It was, without a doubt, the best kiss she’d ever experienced, and she thought about it for the entire ride home to her apartment. It lingered in her mind while she showered and got ready for bed, and then stayed with her as she laid her head on her pillow and waited for sleep to come.

  Chapter 3

  Dimitris

  Dimitris felt his dreams slipping away as his waking consciousness took hold.

  He opened his eyes sleepily and blinked a few times as he tried to figure out where he was. He traveled so often that he sometimes had trouble orienting himself immediately upon waking.

  As he laid in bed, taking in the dark hotel room that surrounded him, memories surfaced.

  That’s right, he thought. I’m in DC. Last night, I went out to dinner with a beautiful woman. Eva.

  He stretched an arm up and placed it behind his head. The pillow was soft, the sheets high quality, the bed perfectly firm. The covers rustled as he moved.

  He closed his eyes and brought up an image of Eva in his mind. She was a beauty, there was no doubt about that. She’d been dressed simply, in a white tank top, plain blue skirt, and thong sandals. Her hair was chestnut brown, straight, and she’d worn it pulled back in a loose ponytail. Though there was nothing flashy about her style, she glowed as if lit up from within. When she smiled, her whole face transformed w
ith beauty and warmth. Her eyes were bright and filled with wonder and excitement.

  Her figure was curvy, in all the right ways.

  He felt a jolt of attraction as he lay there thinking about her. The energy he’d felt when next to her was intense. Magnetic. And that kiss, he thought. It was the best kiss of my life.

  A beeping sound from his phone interrupted the memory. It was a tone that alerted him to a voicemail, and he reached for his phone. As a business owner, he was used to reaching for his phone first thing in the morning to see if there were any urgent, business-related “fires” that needed to be addressed before he went about his morning routine.

  Seeing that he had a message from Stavros, he sat up on the edge of the bed as he listened to it. In the message, Stavros said he had an urgent matter to discuss, so Dimitris called him back right away.

  “I heard your message,” Dimitris said when Stavros picked up. His voice was gravelly and rough, seeing as he hadn’t used it yet that day. He reached for a water bottle on his nightstand. “What’s going on? I’m just waking up here.” He unscrewed the cap to the bottle and took a sip.

  “Dimitris, I’ve been going through this paperwork you sent,” Stavros said.

  Dimitris didn’t like the seriousness of his lawyer’s tone. Something was wrong.

  Stavros went on. “We have a problem,” he said, confirming Dimitris’s suspicions. “A big one, at that.”

  “What is it?” Dimitris said. He couldn’t imagine what had Stavros sounding so upset.

  Stavros cleared his throat. “The US State Department is going to put you through a rigorous background check before agreeing to buy from Atheos Propulsion Systems.”

  “As they should,” Dimitris said coolly. “They’re about to sign a multi-million-dollar contract. They don’t want to do business with a criminal. So what’s the problem?”

  “You’re going to fail the background check,” Stavros said bluntly. “Dimitris, they want to see a perfectly clean record. Yours has a blemish on it.”