Chapter 62: Kitchen Heat, Corporate Games, and Cannes Confessions
Selene
Two days later , we arrive in Cannes to spend a few days with Kostas on his yacht. He had sent out a very intriguing invitation. The guys naturally weren't too keen on going ... and to be honest neither was I. Especially because I was honest enough to admit to myself that I was attracted to Kostas.
The Cannes sun is seductive—honey-gold, softening everything it touches. And as our car pulls up to the dock, the air smells like salt, citrus, and temptation.
The yacht isn’t just large—it’s obscene. Multi-decked, gleaming white with dark glass accents and gold detailing along the nameplate. The crew, dressed in sleek uniforms, greet us like royalty. Kostas is already at the top of the gangway, barefoot, linen shirt fluttering open in the breeze like he stepped off the cover of a billionaire pirate romance novel.
“You came,” he calls, grinning. His eyes settle on me first—lingering. Always lingering.
He descends the gangway slowly, taking his time. When he finally reaches us, he greets Adrian and John with polite professionalism… and me with something that borders on reverence.
“You look even more radiant than I remember,” he says smoothly. “Santorini suited you. But France? France adores you.”
Adrian’s smile is tight. John’s jaw ticks, just barely.
Kostas gestures for champagne. “Please, come. Relax. I had the chef prepare lunch on deck.”
We settle into a shaded alcove lined with cream cushions, the sea sparkling like glass all around us. The yacht glides smoothly out of the harbor while crystal glasses are placed in our hands and a platter of chilled oysters, fruit, and imported cheeses appears like magic.
Kostas lounges like he owns the sun. “So,” he says, eyes dancing, “how does this… dynamic of yours work exactly? Two men. One goddess. I imagine it’s both complicated and very satisfying.”
John leans forward with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It works because we respect each other. And we don’t let anyone else in.”
Adrian adds, “Especially not uninvited.”
Kostas raises his glass. “Fair enough. Just curious.”
“I’ll give you curious,” I murmur, sipping my drink, “if you’ll give us the key to this floating palace.”
He laughs, loud and rich. “I’m flattered you call it that. The crew will show you your suite.”
The cabin
It’s not a cabin—it’s a luxury penthouse on the water. Marble floors. A private soaking tub. A king-sized bed facing a floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over nothing but ocean. Silk robes. Chocolates. A closet stocked with whatever I might need.
I pick out a swimsuit—midnight blue, plunging neckline, gold chain detail at the hips. It’s bold. Dramatic. Daring.
Adrian’s hand slides over my bump as I change. “You sure you’re up for this?”
I glance at myself in the mirror. “He invited us for a reason. Let’s see what he’s really after.”
Pool deck – An hour later
Adrian and John are pulled away below deck by a call—an urgent investor meeting they couldn’t shift.
“Go,” I tell them. “I’ll survive half an hour of sparkling water and sunshine.”
They look hesitant, but trust me.
And then it’s just me… and the quiet lap of water.
Until he appears.
Kostas steps onto the upper deck, shirtless now, towel slung casually over his shoulder. His torso is tanned and toned, chest lightly dusted with hair. There’s a tattoo in Greek script across his ribs, and I don’t dare ask what it says.
He walks over slowly, confidently.
“Need help?” he asks, holding up a bottle of sunscreen.
I should say no. I should definitely say no.
But I don’t.
I roll onto my stomach. “Sure.”
He kneels beside me and starts rubbing it into my back. His touch is warm and firm, gliding slowly across my shoulders, then down the curve of my spine.
“I meant what I said,” he murmurs.
I open one eye. “About what?”
He leans in, lips close to my ear. “I want you.”
I tense. “You… want in?”
“I do,” he says plainly. “I want to be part of whatever this is. Or make something entirely new. I don’t care if it’s traditional. I don’t care that you’re pregnant. I want you, Selene.”
I turn my head to look at him, stunned. “You barely know me. I’m engaged. To two men. I’m pregnant with twins. Why would you want this?”
His gaze never wavers. “Because you are unlike anyone I’ve ever met. And I don’t scare easily.”
“Kostas…”
He reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair off my cheek. “You don’t have to answer now. Just… don’t dismiss me.”
My breath catches in my throat.
“I’m not trying to steal you,” he adds. “I’m offering something. If you want it.”
His fingers skim the small of my back again, slow and intimate, as the sun flares overhead. I shiver at the sensation his fingers are causing , cursing my traitorous body as I can feel myself starting to get wet . He continues skimming his fingers over back, and running them down my sides .
i know I should stop him ... but I can't seem to bring myself to just yet