Author's note- This is an anthology series set in the same dreamy Greek inn. Each part is a modern take on an ancient Greek myth yet the characters and plot differ so they can be read separately or in any order the reader chooses. Enjoy!
~Let Sleeping Gods Lie~
My heart skipped a beat. The sound of approaching footsteps in the hall gave me just enough time to shove my hands behind my back before the door flew open.
.
"The old woman at the desk recommended the love temple. Though you wouldn't believe what she was wearing. I'd never seen a geriatric in a poodle skirt before." My boyfriend stood in the doorway with a smile on his face and a brochure in his hand. After giving me a once over the smile disappeared from his lips. "What do you have there?"
"Nothing." I answered between nervous nibbles of my bottom lip.
"Stephie, let me see." Eric took a few steps forward prompting me to move backward. After a few shuffling steps my back was pressed against the wall. He quickly seized my wrist to find the cellphone nestled in my palm.
His
phone. Busted.
"Snooping again." He sighed.
"It's only... my sister said-"
"Your sister? Not again with this!" He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"She says I shouldn't trust you."
"Of course she did. Wake up babe, she's jealous. Not to mention she thinks all men are monsters." He raked his fingers through his gorgeous blond hair. The fact that he looked even better when upset was very unfair of him.
"You can hardly blame her after her fiancΓ© jilted her a week before the wedding." Ouch. And for her best friend no less. Double ouch.
"That doesn't make her paranoid suspicions correct. And that doesn't mean you have to believe her." He glowered down on me.
"Who's Carmen?" I asked. That suspiciously vampy sounding name had come up a couple times in my brief search of his text history.
"She's an employee."
"You have a lot of texts from her."
"She's new, she was asking me for advice. Christ sake Stephie, have I ever given you reason not to trust me?"
I pondered the question with my brow tightly furrowed. Apart from being indecently sexy, sophisticated and entirely out of my league, he had never been anything but honest with me. "No, not exactly."
"Yet you are always spying on me."
"You shouldn't mind if you have nothing to hide." I countered, using my sister's own words. It was one of her favorites along with 'he seems too good to be true' and 'all men are lying cheating no good dick-weasels'.
"I shouldn't mind that my girlfriend doesn't trust me. Do you even hear yourself?" He threw his arms up.
"Where are you going?" I directed the question to his back as he strode towards the door of our suite.
"Who knows, to fuck half of the population of Greece for all you know." He answered acidly. "I need some space. I'll be back when you've decided which is more important to you- us or your petty suspicions."
I stood stone faced, staring at the slammed door for a moment before bursting into tears. So much for a relaxing vacation, I thought bitterly. When the local cabbie had told us about the Horned Gate Inn it sounded perfect. The idea of a picturesque bed and breakfast situated in the Greek countryside was irresistibly romantic. But it seemed even in the wilderness our problems could still find us.
The argument was not a new one, we'd played it out a hundred times in all its tedious variations, always coming back to the same maddening deadlock. (Though the epic make-up sex that inevitably followed was a pretty awesome consolation prize.)
I so wanted to point the finger at Eric for our issues or at least give him half the blame but the grown-up in me had to admit that I was pretty much 100% responsible for the rift between us.
Man, accountability sucks.
Travel weary, I fell into the giant bed too depressed to appreciate its beautiful carvings of ancient mythic scenes. How could I not be suspicious of Eric's motives? He was bordering on perfection and I wasn't even in the tri-county area. Try as I might, I couldn't figure out what he saw in me. His roots ran deep in the rich soil of New York high society. A far cry from my own rural Oklahoma upbringing. Let's face it, I was punching way above my weight class.
When we met in our sophomore year of college I couldn't believe my luck to find such a catch. But the longer we went on the more I began to question if someone like me could ever be worthy of him. His rich, glamorous, class-conscious mother agreed. A scornful once over on our first meeting made clear that she was thinking the same thing I was. What's Little Miss Nobody from Flyover Country, USA doing with her highly eligible son? I had none of the grace or refinement of the socialites he was expected to be dating. Sure, I have a pretty face. Big whoop. Sometimes I wondered if that was all he saw in me.
Or maybe he wasn't as perfect as he seemed. The dark thoughts buzzed around my head like flies on dung while I tossed and turned in the large, lonely bed. As I finally slipped off into sleep the buzzing in my ears sounded more and more like rushing wind.
Ξ©
"Psyche." My mother called from the kitchen of our cramped cottage. "There is a package here for you."
I shot up from bed, shook the rushing sound from my ears and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The radiant tendrils of first light were just beginning to peak over the horizon, teasing at the promise of a bright new day. A package was here.
Probably another suitor.