The reasoning was selfish, now. I didn’t want anyone else to catch up with us. I loved that Sam had been ignoring his phone calls and messages. The idea that we could let this beautiful, old city keep the real world at bay for another couple of hours.
“Great. So, to the docks?”
“Yep. And if you want to ship the car back to Belgrade, now’s the time. We won’t be driving to our next destination.” My mouth went dry as soon as the words were past my lips.
Was I really going to take Sam to the Caymans?
“How can I do that without using a credit card?”
“We can probably set it up so that they charge your card in a month, and ship it back then. You’ll have to pay more to have them store it until then.”
We made our way toward Piraeus, the main port in Athens. Cobalt blue water stretched toward the horizon, interrupted by sailboats and cruise ships and industrial boats as far as the eye could see. They were mostly white, and the sun glinted off the paint and the water, blinding me even wearing sunglasses.
“Who’s going to do that?” Sam threw the car into park in the queue at the port, then twisted to face me.
I was never going to get used to how handsome he was, or how the way he looked at me made me feel naked in the least scary way possible. “I know a guy.”
“You know a guy. In Athens.”
“Sure.” Xander was my father’s caretaker at the Santorini house, but it had been clear to me from a young age that he hadn’t been hired for his gardening skills. The guy was six foot seven and had to weigh over three hundred pounds of solid muscle.
We’d gotten along well, mostly due to a mutual love of chess and science fiction and fantasy. He would help me get the car back to Marija, and keep quiet about it, as long as he didn’t think it had anything to do with my dad’s business. We both knew where his ultimate loyalty lay, but he’d kept secrets for me before, when they were personal. Sam and I would just have to convince him we were what we said we were—lovers.
“We’ll take the car to Santorini. I have a friend there who can make the arrangements, though we may have to play up the boyfriend-girlfriend gig to convince him it doesn’t involve my father’s business at all.”
Sam snorted. “Business. Right.”
“Well, he does have a legitimate side. And he has a law degree.” I didn’t know why Sam’s comment made me defensive, but even though my dad was a con man, it wasn’t all he was.
“Do I still have to wear this hat?”
I cocked my head, then reached over and pulled it off, mussing his shaggy hair in the process. It made him look like a little boy. “The hat you can lose, but I’m kind of loving the glasses.”
“Oh yeah?” He winked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay, lover boy. Let’s go get some tickets and get this bucket on the boat. There will be plenty of time for playacting later.”
We strolled over to the ticket office hand in hand. The warm salty breeze ruffled Sam’s hair and tickled my cheeks. The green-blue of the ocean, the bright white of the sailboats, the ancient backdrop all filled me with peace and happiness, and I banished the worries of tomorrow from my mind. Tonight, I wanted to pretend. Sam clicked away on his phone, then stuffed it in his pocket.
“Honey, do you think we could go diving tomorrow?” I asked sweetly, looking up into Sam’s face as we waited in line behind two other couples and a businessman.
Sam looked down at me, his expression delighted. His carefree attitude was just too adorable, when it wasn’t getting us into trouble. “Sure, snookums. Did you bring your certification?”
“Yes. You know I always carry it on me as a second photo ID. You?”
He nodded. “Ditto.”
We were speaking off-the-cuff, and it pleased me that we could pick it up without discussing it beforehand. I hoped the exchange meant we actually both had diving certifications and that he wanted to go. It would be a shame to take a five-hour boat ride just to tour another empty mansion and taking a meeting with Xander.
Once we had tickets and made it back to the car, I gave him a look.
“What? Did I say something wrong? Was I not quick enough on the uptake?”
“Snookums? Who the fuck says that anymore?”
“Well, I like it. Do you prefer snookums or devil girl as a term of endearment?”
“Those are my only choices? Like, I can’t choose no term of endearment?”
“Nope. Not at the moment. All sappy couples on vacations call each other something. And apparently I’m honey, so . . .”
“Just drive the car, smart-ass.”
He grinned and shifted Marija’s Passat into drive, navigating the crowded parking lot and steering us onto the ferry.