Sweet on the Greek: An Interracial Romance (Just for Him Book 3)

by Talia Hibbert

  And saw a notification he hadn’t expected but desperately wanted. One that took his tentative happiness, strapped a rocket to it, and sent it soaring across the sky like a comet.

  Aria had emailed him back.

  Your taste in Vines has improved since the last time we emailed. Must be my influence.

  His grin was so wide, it felt like he might break his own face. He almost dropped the phone in his haste to reply.

  Definitely. I’d say you’ve improved

  a lot of things about me.

  He paced the street as he waited for her answer, ignoring his parked car. He couldn’t sit in a confined space right now. Not when bright, burning hope was bursting inside him. He traced his own footsteps across the tarmac five times before his phone vibrated in his hand.

  Suck-up. How are you?

  Right now, I’m very good. Excellent. Fantastic. Never better. How are you? How are things going with the shop?

  I’m okay. They’re good, actually. I’m looking at locations and enjoying being rich. Although 350k doesn’t go as far as I thought it would. Is that why you guys hoard wealth?

  Nik didn’t bother holding back his laughter. He started to type out ‘I miss you’, then shook his head and deleted it.

  Maybe. But you might be interested to know

  that my latest occupation is unpaid.

  You’re being circumspect to pique my interest. I know your games.

  He would be worried about that last email, except she followed it up with a winking emoji. An emoji! That little yellow face almost gave him heart failure. She was… sharing emotions? Tiny, graphic emotions. With him. Positive ones, even. All of a sudden, every word he typed seemed like the word that could potentially ruin unbelievable progress. The pressure got so great that in the end, Nik had to sit on the curb, right there in the street, and pull himself together.

  Guilty as charged. But I will happily write you a lengthy essay on the meeting I just had if that’s what you want. Say the word.

  An essay might be a bit much. Why don’t I just call you?

  Nik wasn’t sure what he said in response. Jesus fuck yes, please call me, perhaps. It was all a bit of a blur. And then his phone was ringing and he was practically cracking the screen in his rush to answer. “Hello?”

  The sound of her voice washed over him like an ocean wave, powerful and perfect. “Hi.”

  “How are you?”

  “Didn’t we already cover that?” He could hear her smiling. She was smiling. For him. Fuck, his palms were sweating. He was going to tell her so—but wait, no, he didn’t want to pour his feelings all over her and make her feel responsible for them. This whole thing was supposed to be low-pressure, all her, no bullshit from his end.

  So, he just laughed and said, “Yeah. Yeah, we did. I just—I want to know you’re good, that’s all.”

  “I’m good,” she answered softly. “So, tell me about this mysterious occupation.”

  Nik sat on the street and told Aria everything he knew, everything he’d hoped for, and everything he’d soon be a part of. To his everlasting relief, she actually seemed pleased. Impressed, even. She told him about her plans for the shop, the progress she’d made, and seemed happy when he was interested. She asked how his tattoo was healing. She said…

  She said, out of nowhere, “God, Nik, I missed your voice.”

  At which point, he was almost delirious with happiness. “You did? What does that—wait, no, you don’t have to answer that. I just—”

  “I haven’t forgiven you.” The words fell on his fledgling hope like bricks. But hope was a tough little fucker. It was still alive under there; he could feel it, bright and strong. Then she sighed and said, “No, that’s not right. I think I have forgiven you. I just, I’m struggling to… well. It’s all part of a very long story.”

  “You know you can tell me anything,” he said, because the hollow dip in her voice made him think that this ‘long story’ was something she needed to release. He wanted to be the one who helped her do it. He wanted all her stories, long and short. “Anytime, anywhere. I’m in the U.K., you know.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah. Not because of you.” Technically. “I still live here. When I’m not at home, I mean.” God, he was talking too much.

  “Well, okay. Maybe we could hang out. At some point. Eventually.”

  Never had such stilted, half-hearted words sounded sweeter to Nik’s ears. “I would love that. I would really fucking love that.”

  “Okay. Cool. Um… I have to go.”

  “Alright, sweetheart.” Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that.

  But she didn’t mention it. “Bye, Nik.”

  “Goodbye.”

  When the call ended, Nik celebrated harder in his suit and tie, in front of baffled pedestrians, than he ever had for any goal.

  Two weeks later, Nikolas Christou found himself sitting in a restaurant with the love of his life.

  She looked amazing, he assumed. He wasn’t completely sure. He couldn’t see her very well, what with the stars in his eyes. But he heard her just fine, when she asked suddenly, “Have you had sex since I last saw you?”

  Nik frowned, the stars falling away with a blink. And, yes, she did look amazing—even though she was eyeing him suspiciously. Her hair was shorter with ice blue streaks, her lips shone with that gloss he loved so much, and her curves were clad in a tiny, lime-green dress. She stood out like a beacon in a fancy restaurant full of plain people in plainer clothes.

  “No,” Nik said finally. “Of course I haven’t.”

  “Why ‘of course’?”

  He shrugged. “You left me. I never left you.”

  She shook her head and laughed softly, turning her gaze to the menu. “How very Nik of you.”

  “What?”

  “You know what you want out of life, don’t you?”

  He hadn’t, actually. Not until he met her.

  Aria’s gaze softened, her mouth twisting slightly. “I’m sorry. It just kind of hit me, when I saw you, that you might have… I don’t know.”

  Nik smiled. He wanted to grin like a five-year-old and dance on the table, because apparently, she was hypothetically jealous. But he limited himself to that smile and said, “Turns out I’m great at saying no when I have a reason.”

  “I’m a reason?”

  “Aria. I love you.”

  The tip of her tongue slid out to nudge at her lip ring. She held his gaze for a second before her eyes fluttered away like butterflies, too fast to catch. “Why am I staring at wine? Fuck wine. I need food.”

  He laughed. He teased her. She teased him right back. And just like that, it was as if nothing had happened, as if he’d never fucked up and she’d never left and they were just… them. Together. The way they were meant to be.

  Through the starter and the main course, they managed to skirt around the elephant in the room. It was like a dance, as if the melody of their laughter and the beat of their back-and-forth kept them on track, showing their feet where to go.

  But then, just after they ordered dessert, Aria’s mouth tightened. Her whiskey eyes became shadowed, her shoulders rigid, and he knew before she said a word that they were about to talk. To Talk, actually. Capital T.

  He’d been waiting for this—for the chance to discuss what had happened between them, to really apologise, to explain what had been going through his head. But he was dreading it, too, because she’d said that she wanted to tell him something. And he had a feeling that this something might be responsible for the haunted look that came over her every so often. He had a feeling that someone had hurt her.

  And that he’d made it worse.

  “I told you, at one point, that I wasn’t really dating,” she said. Her words held the tone of a lengthy speech, an introduction rather than a casual comment. So, he nodded wordlessly, not wanting to interrupt. “Well…” She huffed out a long, slow breath. And then, all at once, a rapid stream of words fell from her lips. “Well, I decid
ed to avoid men because I can’t trust myself with relationships, because I just, you know, I’m in them just to be in them, which is fine until it starts to hurt people, and it started to hurt people, because I dated this one guy last year and he turned out to be a murderous stalker and he kidnapped Jen and she nearly died and he blew his own hand off and—”

  Nik held up a hand. “Stop.”

  She stopped.

  He hadn’t planned on touching her tonight, but he reached across the table and caught her shaking fingers with his own. “Are you okay?”

  Slowly, her laboured breaths calmed. “I’m fine. I’m just nervous.”

  “What are you nervous about?”

  “I’ve only really talked about this with my therapist.”

  Nik took a deep breath and savoured the cool air that flooded his lungs. It helped with his anger, his worry, his fear—none of which would be useful to her now. “Okay. Well, let me make sure I understand. You were seeing someone.”

  “Yes.”

  “And he kidnapped your best friend.”

  “Yes!”

  “And did what to his hand?”

  She shifted in her seat. “He had a gun. And there was, like, a police stand-off, but when he pulled the trigger, it kind of back-fired… The police said it was homemade, or something. Did you know you can make guns? I didn’t know that.”

  Nik swallowed. “Was she okay?”

  “Ah, well, she turned out to be pretty good in a crisis. She stabbed him. With a screwdriver. So when he managed to fire the gun, she was kind of out of range, and then it sort of blew up, and he lost his hand, and she…” Aria’s hand fluttered up to the side of her face. “She’s got these scars. I suppose she’s okay, now. She seems fine.”

  “And when was this?”

  “Ummm… November.”

  Nik’s throat went dry. Less than a year ago.

  “So, you see,” she said, “I’m thinking that… well, that I might have overreacted a little bit. With you. Because I felt like every guy was hiding some dangerous side to their personality, and I was too desperate for affection to figure it out—”

  “Aria, you didn’t overreact.” His grip on her hand tightened, as if he could push his words into her skin as well as telling her out loud. “Never think you overreacted. You felt how you felt, and you behaved accordingly. And if me lying hit you even harder because of your past… Well, I shouldn’t have lied at all. If I’d acted right, you wouldn’t have a reason to be upset. That’s my fault. It’s all my fault. Okay?”

  She nodded slowly. “Okay.” And then, after a moment, a tentative smile lit up her face. “I mean, obviously it’s your fault. Everything’s your fault. Because you suck.”

  “Definitely,” he agreed, his voice solemn.

  “I mean, global warming, the bees—”

  “Well, maybe not that stuff.”

  “The deterioration of Topshop’s quality—”

  “I don’t actually think—”

  “Why are you arguing with me?” She grinned. “Aren’t you supposed to be winning me back?”

  Nik froze. “Can I win you back?”

  She gave a studied shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe if you tried really hard.”

  “I’m prepared to try hard. The hardest.”

  “And maybe if you explain what the fuck you thought you were doing, coming up with that bullshit plan.”

  Nik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes. Yes. I would love to explain that.”

  “Well, go on.” She cocked her head mockingly, a little smile playing about her lips. But she hadn’t pulled her hands from his. She was holding on to him.

  Please, don’t let go.

  “First, I want to apologise for not apologising enough at the time. I don’t think I took it as seriously as I should have. I didn’t expect you to be that upset, because, honestly, I was thoughtless. I saw it all from my own perspective. I knew I didn’t want to hurt you, I knew I loved you, I knew my intentions—but you didn’t. So, I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. “Right. And, um… What were your intentions?”

  The fact that she even cared had him ready to pass out in relief. Because intentions didn’t matter half as much as actual, concrete results, and the results of his actions had been hurting her. Yet she was giving him the chance to tell her all of this, anyway.

  “I love you,” he said. “Do you mind me saying that?”

  She smiled. “You can continue. If you must.”

  “Sometimes it just kind of comes out.”

  “I am extremely loveable, so I understand.”

  He grinned. “Of course you do. Well, as far as intentions go—I thought you’d get to know me, and then you’d be more open to seeing me again. I hoped that maybe we’d be friends. And I wanted to be around you, because I had this—this need, like I couldn’t let you out of my sight before I knew more about you. Only, I never knew enough about you. I found out how you sleep and wondered what you eat when you’re sick. You told me a story about your past and I wanted to see all your baby pictures. I want every part of you. And I’ve never felt like that before, so I fucked up. But if you let me, I’d really love to never, ever fuck up again.”

  A slow smile spread over her face throughout his speech, as steady and warm as the hope swelling in his heart. Still, she arched a brow and murmured, “I’m pretty sure you’ll fuck up again. Humans do that.”

  “True,” he admitted. “But I’ll never lie to you. I’ll never hide anything from you. I’ll never put myself before you.”

  Her smile widened into a grin. “That sounds okay.”

  “It does?”

  “It does.”

  “So…”

  “So,” she said, her eyes lighting up as dessert arrived. “This is our first date.”

  Which was when Nik realised that, all this time, there’d been an entire level of happiness he’d never reached before. And now here he was, on top of the world, feeling it.

  Because of her.

  “So,” Nik said as they wandered down the moonlit street. “How are you getting home?”

  Aria swung her little handbag and tried, fruitlessly, to calm her grin. She was just so full of joy, she might burst. Like a balloon. A happy, happy balloon. “I don’t know. Bus, maybe.”

  Nik looked up sharply, clearly appalled. Even horrified, he was handsome as fuck. She’d spent the whole meal half-mesmerised by his gorgeous bloody face. The rest of her attention had been taken up by the yearning in his eyes when he looked at her, the tenderness in his voice when they spoke, the way he ran those big, capable hands through his hair as he considered his words.

  She’d wondered, during their time apart, if she’d imagined how things were between them. If she’d seen him through the veil of a holiday romance, falling for a man she’d half-imagined instead of the man who actually existed. But tonight had cemented what she’d already figured out over the past couple of weeks: she adored him. She more than adored him. He was everything she’d never thought to want. She didn’t have to bend and twist the idea of him to make them fit; she didn’t have to hide anything about herself or fabricate new parts for them to work.

  They just were. And it was so natural, she couldn’t stop it even if she’d tried.

  “Let me take you home,” he frowned. He was seemed genuinely concerned by the idea of her taking the bus. Bless.

  But, as Aria prepared to refuse, something hit her like a bolt of lightning: she could say yes.

  Her lips would allow her to say yes, if she wanted. She wouldn’t stand frozen, terrified by the idea of giving him her address. She wouldn’t hesitate as she got into his car, thinking of the man who’d tied her friend up in the back of his van.

  She could say yes.

  And the thought was so freeing, so impossibly wonderful, that she did it. She said, “Okay.” Once that word was out, she said more, unable to stop herself. “I love you, Nik. You’re going to be so fucking smug about it, but I do.”

  He
stopped in his tracks, shock written all over his face. “Are you serious?”

  “Like I’d give you a reason to crow if I wasn’t.”

  “You—I—Aria—”

  “What?”

  He stood for a moment as if he were malfunctioning, like his fuses had blown or something. Then, all at once, he wrapped his arms around her and hauled her up against his chest, spinning them both in circles.

  Finally, after she shrieked and slapped at his shoulder and tried to pretend she wasn’t throughly enjoying herself, Nik put her down again. But he didn’t let her go. Instead, his hands cradled her face as if she were the most precious thing he’d ever held.

  “I love you so fucking much,” he grinned. “I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

  “You’d better.”

  And he did. God, he did. His mouth teased hers at first, the tip of his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, making her gasp and rise up for more. When the heat pooling between her thighs became unbearable, when she clutched at his strong arms and felt her knees weaken, he finally gave her what she needed. His lips moved over hers, each kiss long and slow, as if he were trying to tell her something. To show her something. To give her a part of himself.

  So she threaded her fingers through his hair, and kissed him right back, and gave him her heart.

  Epilogue

  Decades Later

  “Mum. Dad. I have fallen in love.”

  Aria didn’t look up from her sketchbook. “That’s nice, darling.”

  She expected her husband to be similarly underwhelmed; after all, their eldest daughter said the same thing every other month. Helen reminded her of the way she’d been in her younger years, if far less self-destructive. The child—woman, now, Aria supposed—had an excess of love and no qualms about sharing it.

  So when Nik grabbed the TV remote and turned off the football, she was surprised, to say the least. Aria finally looked up to find her husband staring at their firstborn with a rather disconcerting expression.