“Hmm…” He hands me back my phone. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to have your ex on your social media. It looks bad.” In other words, delete him now before I make you.
Remembering Aris is in the car with us, I glance over at him, embarrassed that Kostas is telling me what to do like I’m his puppet. I expect to find him smirking at me, enjoying Kostas giving me shit, but instead I find he has his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes are pointed narrowly at Kostas as if he’s silently cursing him. It’s no secret they have some weird love-hate relationship going on, but the way he’s glowering at his brother looks a hell of a lot more like hate than love.
At the church, Kostas and Aris stand just inside the doors, greeting and thanking everyone for coming as each person walks through and extends their condolences. I stand by Kostas’s side as he introduces me to several people as his wife. Some look shocked, but most congratulate us. He explains who some are to me, and others, who I assume aren’t important enough in his eyes, he doesn’t bother.
When his father arrives, a nurse wheels him up the ramp in his wheelchair and then Kostas takes over, pushing him to the front row, leaving him to sit at the end of the pew. The funeral service is being held in the same church as our wedding. Father Nicholas speaks about love and loss, and the entire time, Kostas’s fingers stay intertwined with mine. He doesn’t shed a single tear, but I can feel it in the way he squeezes my hand when Father Nicholas talks about her going to heaven, he’s barely keeping it together. I can practically feel the sadness radiating off him, and I wonder if, at some point, he’s going to finally lose it. In the short time since I’ve known Kostas he’s never once lost it. He’s the epitome of put together all the time. Aris, on the other hand, gets so upset, he ends up walking out of the church.
The funeral moves to the cemetery for the burial, and once again, Kostas pushes his father down the sidewalk to the spot where the earth is open and Nora’s coffin is waiting to be lowered into the ground. There’s a tent set up so everyone can stand in the shade while Father Nicholas says a few more words, and then the casket is lowered.
When Father Nicholas calls on the family to step forward to throw the dirt onto her coffin, Kostas pushes Ezio over and helps him gather a handful of dirt to throw in. Aris and I go next, and then the other family members follow. Everyone circles back around under the tent while Kostas remains in the front with his dad.
Kostas’s gaze meets mine, and I try to convey through my gaze how sorry I am for his loss. As if he knows what I’m trying to say, his eyes go a little softer, and the smallest hint of a smile appears.
And then they go dark. And hard. I have no clue what’s going on until I feel someone’s hot breath at my ear. “I know you married him because you thought you had to…because you’re afraid of him.”
With my eyes locked on Kostas still, I do my best not to make a scene or show any emotion. I will not let Aris get to me.
“You can’t deny we have something. From the moment I saw you in the bar, to the night we fucked…”
My chest heaves at his words, and Kostas’s eyes narrow as he pushes his father’s wheelchair toward us, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Just because you’re married now, doesn’t mean we can’t explore those feelings. I could make you happier than Kostas ever could,” Aris says.
And just when I think he’s finally done, he grabs my ass.
Panic rises inside me.
I feel sweaty and dizzy.
I’m thrust back to the night he shoved me against the dresser and took what wasn’t his to take. It’s difficult to keep my emotions in check.
My lip wobbles slightly, and I pray Kostas doesn’t notice.
Leave me alone! I want to scream at him. Push him away. But there are people all around us, and I don’t want to cause a scene at Nora’s funeral.
Unable to stand this monster’s hand on me for another second, my self-preservation wins out. My eyes leave Kostas’s and meet Aris’s, and my hands comes out, grabbing Aris’s hand to remove it off my ass. “What the hell is your problem?” I seethe. “We’re at your mother’s funeral, for God’s sake.”
Aris simply shrugs a shoulder and smirks, not even bothering to argue. When I scan the area to find Kostas, hoping he didn’t see what Aris did, I find him standing directly behind Aris. His fists are clenched at his sides, and his eyes are pointed down at my hand, which is still holding Aris’s. Oh, shit!
“Kostas,” I begin, unsure how to even explain what he’s seeing. But he doesn’t give me a chance. Because when Aris spins around to face his brother, Kostas cocks his fist back and clocks Aris directly in the jaw. His head whips to the side, and he stumbles back. The hit is so loud, everyone turns to see what the commotion is.
“You ever put your hands on my wife again, and you will lose them,” Kostas roars, his body trembling with rage.
Aris, the instigator he is, just laughs and walks away. It’s like he has a death sentence he gleefully awaits.
“Kostas.” I step toward him. “Please let me explain.”
“Go home,” he demands, his eyes cold. “I’ll see you when I get there.”
“But—”
“Now, Talia,” he seethes, and I don’t dare to argue.
I nod in understanding, and on shaky feet I walk back to the limo. When I get there, I’m terrified Aris will be in there, waiting, but thankfully he’s not. The driver returns me to the hotel, and I head straight back to our villa to wait for Kostas. The entire time I’m waiting for him, I pace the room. Back and forth. Rehearsing what I’m going to say. How I will explain. I’m not sure if he saw Aris grab my butt, or if he just saw what looked like we were holding hands. If he didn’t see him grab my butt, I don’t want to tattle on Aris. Based on the shit he was word vomiting, he’s either seriously delusional or scarily cunning. Either way, the last thing I need is to fuel whatever is motivating him.
An hour later, the door clicks open and in walks Kostas. I stand frozen in place, waiting for him to speak first. His tie is now unknotted, the top several buttons undone, and his hair looks disheveled as if he was running his fingers through it in irritation.
His eyes meet mine, and I look to see which man I’m dealing with. Warm. Sad. Soft. I take in a breath of relief. I can deal with this man. He will see reason.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Kostas says, cupping my cheeks with his hands. My features must convey my confusion over his apology because he adds, “Aris explained that he was only asking if you were okay.” He told Kostas he was seeing if I’m okay? What the hell is Aris playing at? “He seems very concerned about you almost being taken.” I search his eyes to see if there’s any hint of disbelief in them, yet I don’t find anything but worry. Wow, Aris is fucking good. And that seriously worries me.
“I shouldn’t have punched him,” Kostas grumbles. “At least not at our mother’s funeral. But as I told him, I don’t care what the reason is, he never has the right to touch you in any way. He’s lucky the only thing he was doing was holding your hand.” His lips descend on mine and he kisses me deeply. “You’re mine, moró mou. Only mine to touch.”