Doukas by Demetra Georgiou
Chapter 2
Keeping busy is good. It means I don’t have to pretend that I’m not watching the most beautiful man in existence eat. Doukas is model-handsome, and I find his brooding style extremely fetching. The whole time I was sitting at their table, I had to clench my hands because I wanted so badly to push a brown wisp of hair off his forehead. If I close my eyes, I can see his gaze locked to mine.
“Ria, the fridge is playing up,” one of my servers observes.
Right, yet another crisis. “Please ask Electra to help me carry its contents to the pantry.”
Perhaps if I remove myself from him, all my misplaced excitement will fade away. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again. Doukas is in a league of his own. I’m sure it was a pure coincidence he came here tonight.
Doukas and his brother stay well after midnight, and they keep their food orders coming. Alcaeus sure has one hearty appetite, but all Doukas does is drink some water and look in my general direction.
Enough self-deluding! I’m sure I’m exaggerating. Just because that fine male specimen warded off those dickheads doesn’t mean he’s into me. And if I’m so messed up by a complete stranger, then I definitely need to take a break from all of this.
Looking at the waiters as they clean up Doukas’s vacated table, I fish out my phone and text my best friend, Veta.
Me: Me & You. Drinks tomorrow?
Immediately I see the three little dots dancing beneath my message, and shortly after, Veta’s pink bubble appears on the screen.
Veta: Oh, I’m in. But can you leave the taverna?
Me: I’m the freakin’ boss. Obviously, I can.
Of course, I don’t mention that Thursdays are one of our slow days. Bad for the restaurant business, excellent for debauchery.
“Ria?” The server cleaning Doukas’s table comes to me. “One of the guys on table five has forgotten his EarPods. Here.” She hands me the small case.
Absently, I test its weight and wonder whose pair of EarPods this is, secretly hoping I’m holding something of Doukas’s. Without wasting any more time, I hurry out of my taverna. Since the area is historically preserved, there aren’t many places he could have parked, and I don’t think Doukas and his brother are the public transport type. If they haven’t caught a taxi, I might be lucky.
I sprint out the door and right into Doukas’s arms. The first thing I feel is his body’s warmth as he puts his arm around my waist to steady me. I look up at his mesmerizing eyes and then at his tantalizing lips. He’s even more dazzling up close, if that’s even possible. I wish I could ask him to hold me tighter. To kiss me.
Doukas reaches up, and his knuckles caress my cheek.
“Where are you racing off to?” he asks with a low, husky voice.
“You,” I admit and lean into his touch.
Doukas stares at me, bemused as if I hold the answers to all his questions.
The spell is broken the moment the door behind me opens and an elderly couple walks out. Reluctantly, I step out of Doukas’s muscular arms to thank them for coming.
What is the matter with me? Someone would think I haven’t seen a man in my life. In my defense, I haven’t met a man like Doukas before. It’s not just his magnetizing good looks, there’s an indescribable pull—almost a need—to get to know him better. To feel his scorching touch electrify my whole body. Perhaps I should be afraid. He’s a stranger, and in all my twenty-four years, I’ve met all kinds of people, from perfect gentlemen to petty criminals. But I’m not afraid of Doukas. My instincts have never steered me wrong.
Looking down at my hands, I remember what brought me out here in the first place.
“Mm… we found this on your table. Is…is this yours?” Even I don’t recognize my trembling voice.
Doukas looks down at my hand, no doubt recognizing the EarPods. With a slight nod, he pockets the gadget, and very slowly, he brings my hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on my open palm. His soft lips make me shiver, and as an unfamiliar warmth spreads across my body, I wish I could feel them on me again.
“Perfect in every way,” he murmurs.
“What do you mean?” I ask tentatively, hoping I haven’t heard wrong.
“I tried to imagine how you really are, but nothing comes as close as this.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I challenge him. I was going for demanding, but it came out breathless.
“I beg to differ.”
This is going nowhere, and I’m afraid that I might say something to embarrass myself. He’s standing so close, and my head feels light.
I smile at him. “Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
“What time do you finish here?” He cuts me off, ignoring my polite attempt to call it a night.
“It’s hard to tell. Usually, about three in the morning. Why?”
“I’d like to take you out. Do you have any days off?”
“I’m the boss, Doukas. I can do whatever I want.”
Now ask me if I ever dared to do so. I guess I could, but I would constantly worry about my taverna.
“Fair enough. How about I take you out tomorrow night?”
“I’m sorry, I have plans tomorrow,” I reluctantly admit, even though I would love nothing more.
Isn’t there some basic rule that you never ditch your friends for some hot guy, though?
“What kind of plans, Ria?”
“I’m going out with a friend.”
He comes closer to me and rises to his full and imposing height in a way that screams displeasure. “You’re going out with a friend.”
“I just told you that.”
Doukas’s eyes darken, and it takes several moments until I hear his voice again. “The day after tomorrow, then. I’ll pick you up from here at noon.”
My logical self urges me to shut down whatever this is, right now. But I don’t want to. I’ve never felt such a pull before. What is the point of longing for someone if I’m pushing everyone away? And Doukas is not just anyone.
“I don’t know you,” I mutter in a futile attempt to voice my objections.
His eyes bore into me, but his features soften with a small grin. “I know.” Doukas lifts my hand and brings it to his lips. “But I need to know you. I want to learn everything there is about you, whatever you want to tell me.”
“I’ll go out with you.”
Doukas smiles genuinely, and I follow suit. “I’ll pick you up at noon,” he repeats with a decisive nod and takes a step back. Immediately I miss his closeness.
I turn to head for the taverna, but I stop short when he calls my name.
“Ria?”
“What—?”
My words hang loosely between us as he strides towards me, cups my waist, and brings me flush against his body. Instinctively, I put my hand on his chest and watch his smoldering eyes blacken with every passing second.
“Tomorrow night, try not to have too much fun.”
Without waiting for a reply, his mouth comes down on mine, and I clutch the lapels of his silk suit jacket. A groan shakes his strong chest, and I mewl, afraid he might stop. I pour everything I have into this kiss. I want this. If that’s insanity, then I’m ready to dip into the utter nothingness. Our kiss is raw, full of passion, taking everything each other has to offer.
By the time we stop, our breaths come out rugged and short, and I take some steps back, touching my swollen lips. What just happened? I don’t have to place my hand on my heart to know it’s beating erratically. I can feel its pulse in my ears. The noise from inside the taverna breaks the spell, but I can’t stop looking at the man in front of me.
Doukas’s lips thin into a somber—almost angry—expression. His eyes scan the place around us for a moment before making me his primary focus again. Eventually, he sighs and takes the two steps that separate us and stands in front of me. He doesn’t touch me, but I want to cower under his intense gaze.
“Why did you pull back? Is this unwelcome?”
I shake my head, thinking how far off the mark he is. “No, it isn’t unwelcome, but it’s not me. I don’t usually go around kissing men I met mere hours ago.”
And that’s what’s extremely odd and so unlike me. In theory, I don’t have any problems with being overcome by passion, but it has never happened to me before.
“I’m so glad to hear that,” Doukas declares in a sultry tone I’m finding more and more attractive. Still, he can’t know how much his words affect me.
“Why is that?” I ask, cocking my head to the side. “Are you one of those people who believe a woman shouldn’t enjoy herself?”
“Not really. I’m happy because you too are overcome by whatever this is,” he says, motioning leisurely between us. “And I certainly don’t want you to merely enjoy yourself, Ria. If anything, I want you to writhe with so much pleasure that you won’t know which side is up.”
Which side is up?
Once again, I’m speechless, which is unbecoming of me, considering I usually don’t know when to shut up. He both confuses and excites me. It’s difficult to express how deeply affected I am. Granted, Doukas is unlike any other man I’ve met. His whole stance and mannerisms scream a different class of person. He has an air about him that exudes danger and excitement, and I’m tempted—so very tempted—to take the leap.
But I have to be sensible here. Never before have I let my emotions take control over my life, and I don’t intend to start now.
He knows how much his words have affected me when he displays an irritatingly handsome smirk. I take another step back and turn around, ready to leave and hide into the relative security of my taverna. I move to the door.
“Ria?”
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I turn around. If I’m to refuse him, at least I can look into his eyes once more. “This is a bad idea. I’m not like that.” I stop to gather more precious air into my lungs. “You might be a murderer or a psychopath.”
His knuckles graze my cheek, and it takes everything in me not to lean into his touch. “You’re right. I might be, but you’re safe with me.” He steps even closer to me. “Just one date, Ria. I promise you won’t even be alone in a car with me.”
I’m surprised at the urgency in his tone. And who am I kidding? I really wanted him to give me a reason to go out with him.
“Okay,” I agree with a small smile.
His mouth comes down on me again, but this time I meet him halfway, forgetting my apprehension and accepting what he gives me.
When he pulls back, he reaches inside his suit jacket and removes his phone. His hand rests possessively on my waist as he taps the screen a few times before passing it to me.
“Here, give me your number,” he utters in a husky voice.
Quickly, I enter my number, and he touches the red icon to call me.
“Now you have mine too,” he murmurs, but I can hear him above my ringtone and the distracting vibration in my pocket.
My mind screams that this man is not real, and I have the urge to prove it wrong, so I lift my finger and trace the rough stubble on his cheek. Doukas welcomes my touch, and his sky-crystal gaze relaxes.
“Friday,” he promises with a raspy voice, and I nod.
Just like that, I have something to look forward to.
For better or worse, I turn the Closed sign at the door around two in the morning. Despite the turmoil that goes around my mind, this is a magical moment for me. It’s always been this way, ever since I was a little girl.
Grandpa would say in a soothing voice, “Ria, it’s time for the sign,” and then it’d be just us and our shadows dancing around the empty space and bouncing off the tables.
My time with grandpa was limited, I was barely seven when he passed, but there are images, scents, and memories that will be forever etched in my brain.
I make my final round, fixing a stray chair or two, before retreating to the back of the office to see how we did today. Honestly, I don’t know how dad and grandpa did it. In all my years here, I never imagined how nerve-wracking running a restaurant could be. We’re officially entering our slow months, and I haven’t made any actual profit yet.
Today the office doesn’t hold much appeal, so I take my laptop to the main hall and sit at a table near the back, overlooking the whole floor. Sometimes when I’m too overwhelmed by the situation here, I like to stand in the middle of my taverna, believing that I can do anything. Dad died of a heart attack two years ago, and his loss was so sudden that I let things slide.
When I was ready to get back on my feet, I didn’t know what to tackle first. A renovation was in order, but with money being an issue, I had to improvise. I did almost everything by myself, even though I was clueless, but it turned out well. The dining hall is a vast rectangular space, but I sectioned it with high vases, plants, and pergolas.
On the walls, photos of old Athens tell the city’s story, showing how much it has changed over the years. Somewhere among the plethora of frames and people in black and white are the portraits of my family, keeping a watchful eye.
Work is the last thing I want to do now, and I decide to cut myself some slack. I can always work from home.
By the time I exit the taverna, it’s so late it’s actually early. I love this time of night—a sliver of time when everything is so quiet that you feel utterly free and alone. The flowers surrounding the small space outside my taverna will die soon, and I make a mental note to take some new pictures for the website.
It’s a long walk to my car as the neighborhood's establishments were built in a time when cars were few and far between, but I don’t mind. On the contrary, I slow my steps to savor the silence. The night is uncharacteristically chilly for this early in September. In fact, I haven’t even pulled out my long-sleeved clothes yet.
Something about the air brings memories of Doukas and his expensive cologne mixed with his potent earthy scent. It has a seductive, dark, and spicy sweetness, and hours later, I’m still intoxicated by it. I start the car and lower my window to smell some of this aroma as I leave.
My house is a neoclassical building in Plaka. It looks really old, but it’s well preserved. Having been built at an unstable time before the Second World War makes it even more precious because of the effort grandpa put into it. It’s a two-story house with balconies in each one of the five bedrooms. It’s quite big for just one person, but I’ll find a way to fill it with laughter again.
Grandpa used to claim it was built in a magical place, and it’s blessed with happiness. When I was little, I pictured all kinds of things. I thought of enchanted houses when I should have steered towards the sentimental. Grandpa gifted this house to the love of his life, Grandma Amaria. Knowing that grandpa wasn’t a rich man, I can’t imagine it was easy, but the result is spectacular.
As I park the car, I look at my still blossomed plants by the front door and wish someone was waiting for me upstairs. My fingers touch my lips once more, and I try to capture some of Doukas’s scorching kiss. I’m absolutely infatuated by the premise of it and—for just one moment—allow myself to finally entertain thoughts that can barely remain bottled.
Doukas was the highlight of my night and not because he sent away the nasty hooligans.