Protected by the Greek (Greek Heat), page 1
jailaa west
Protected by the Greek
Copyright © 2024 by jailaa west
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
First edition
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
Find out more at reedsy.com
Contents
Charmaine
Nicos
Charmaine
Nicos
Charmaine
Nicos
Charmaine
Nicos
Charmaine
Nicos
Charmaine
Epilogue
Did you miss Val and Leo’s story?
Trigger Warning
Paying The Don - Chapter 1
Want more Short Steamy Romance?
Meet the Gataki Family
Thank you for Reading This Book!
About the Author
Charmaine
Buzz. The violent vibration fills the room. It is a low hum from my cell, but it rockets through me like a siren blast. I don’t have to look to know it is Jason. Damn him. My phone is the barbed wire that connects us, any time of the day or night. I’d changed my number and notified C.P.D., but the Chicago police said there was nothing more they could do. I wish for the billionth time I could throw it away and free myself. But as much as I hate it, it is my lifeline. The only thing that links me to help—to protection. How many nights have I walked to my car with my finger hovering above the speed dial number to the cops? To reach them would only take pressing three numbers, nine-one-one. I’d reduced those numbers to one. A single number I’d used more than once during the past year as Jason escalated to newer and more dangerous levels.
I ignore my phone and check the fetal monitor. The strong, steady beep fills the exam room—and my heart. Baby is doing fine. He is going to be a fighter, I can tell. At seven months, he is already tossing and turning, ready to meet the world. I have the greatest job in the world. I adjust the transducer on my patient’s swollen belly. “Everything looks great, Mrs. Patel. Your little one’s heart rate is perfect.”
Relief washes over her face. She rubs her belly as if offering a prayer. “Oh, thank goodness. I was so worried after that scare last week.”
I give her a reassuring smile. “That’s what I’m here for. Just remember to keep drinking those fluids—water is best. As long as you stay hydrated, you shouldn’t have any more cramping. How’s the intake coming?”
She shakes her head. “I take it in, doc, I promise. But it’s the output that’s the problem. I swear this baby is sitting directly on my bladder. I’m running to the bathroom more than a toddler.”
“Perfectly normal at this stage. It won’t be too much longer before you’ll swap those bathroom breaks for diaper changes.”
“I hope so. Although two months sounds like two years.”
I smile. All of my mothers say the same thing in the last trimester when three months crawl by at a snail’s pace. “Almost there,” I say. Helping her to sit upright. She looks around, and I point. “Bathroom’s right through there. Janie will be in with your paperwork and your next appointment.”
I leave the examination room while she makes a dash for it. My phone slashes through my smile like a razor. Buzzing in my pocket with its sharp vibration, refusing to be put off any longer. Arya is my last patient of the day, and her needs had come first. But as I walk to my office, my phone won’t stop. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I reach for my phone to silence it. The name on the screen ices my blood, Jason. Damn him. Every time he gets my new number, it takes out another brick wall of my life. Plowing through my defenses as if they were glass. If I change my number, I have to notify my family, friends, colleagues—patients. It is embarrassing even though I’m not the one doing anything wrong. It is a major inconvenience all for him to have the new number within days—sometimes the same day.
“Dr. Adams?” Janie’s voice snaps me back to the present. “Is everything okay?”
I force a smile, shoving the phone back into my pocket. “Yes. I updated Mrs. Patel’s chart. She’s using the restroom and dressing. I told her you’d be in with her appointment. Schedule her for the first, please.”
She nods and hustles away after a long look. A look I hold with unflappable composure while my hands shake. I barely reach my desk before collapsing into my chair, heart pounding. With trembling fingers, I pull out my phone.
Seventeen missed calls. All from Jason.
And one text message: “I see you, Charmaine. Nice scrubs today. Blue really brings out your eyes.”
My gaze snaps to the window. The blinds are closed, but suddenly I feel exposed. Vulnerable. How long has he been watching me?
I thought I’d escaped him when I moved across the country. But Jason always finds a way back into my life, like a virus I can’t shake.
As I stare at my phone, another message appears:
“Don’t ignore me, baby. You know that only makes things worse.”
I close my eyes, fighting the wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm me. How much more of this can I take?
The drive home is a blur of paranoia. Every red light stretches like an eternity, each car behind me a potential threat. When I reach my apartment, I am a mess of frayed nerves and barely contained panic. Working in the office gives me some sense of security. Surrounded by the other doctors and nurses, security at the front doors and making the rounds. I am never alone. Because I’d informed the staff of Jason’s harassment, they all look out for me. They walk me to my car and make sure I never have to close alone. They are wonderful, supportive, and understanding. However, they can’t shadow me every minute of the day. Can’t follow me home or stay the night: the one place and the one time when I am the most vulnerable.
I triple-check the locks, draw all the curtains, and do a thorough sweep of every room, closet, and possible hiding place. The cameras I’d installed to feel safer blink their red eyes at me from every corner. I should feel protected. Instead, I feel watched.
Exhausted, I change into my favorite pair of soft flannel pajamas and heat some leftover fast food. I can’t remember the last time I’d had the energy or appetite to cook a real meal.
I settle onto the couch with my meager dinner when a voice shatters the silence.
“You look lovely tonight, Char. But those pajamas could be a bit sexier, don’t you think? Maybe it’s time for some new ones.”
I jump up and swing around. My food and utensils drop to the floor as I look for him. Freezing when the voice comes again from my wi-Fi speaker. Shit.
I stare at it. My mind in shock from outrage and horror. He isn’t in my house, but he is freaking in my house. He might as well have hung a blazing halogen light over my naked body. I pull my night shirt down and stare at the camera.
“And really, fast food again? You need to take better care of yourself. How about a nice home-cooked meal tomorrow? I could swing by and—”
I lunge for the speaker, yanking its plug from the wall. But Jason’s voice continues, now from my television’s sound bar.
“Now, now, Char. That’s not very nice. I’m just looking out for you.”
A scream catches in my throat as I fumble with the plug, trying to pull it out. But my hands are shaking so badly I can barely grip it.
“You can’t shut me out, Charmaine. I’m always with you. Always watching. Always—”
Finally, blessedly, the bar goes silent. The sudden quiet is deafening.
I stand in the middle of my living room, my heart pounding so hard I think it might burst from my chest. The cameras—he must have hacked them. My sanctuary, my haven, has become a fishbowl.
In a frenzy, I run through the apartment, covering every camera I can find with whatever is at hand—sticky notes, band-aids, even glob of toothpaste smeared over a lens in the bedroom.
But it isn’t enough. Nowhere feels safe. I don’t bother calling the police. Cyberstalking is not a crime they are equipped to handle. Especially not with a hacker as skilled as my ex. It is a constant game of whack-a-mole, only we don’t have a hammer, and the damn mole pops up whenever and wherever he wants.
I end up in the bathtub, fully clothed, clutching my phone to my chest. My finger still hovering over that single number as I stay in the only room without a camera. I’d checked and rechecked every lock, every window. But would it matter? If Jason wants in, he is capable of finding a way.
Sleep comes in fitful bursts, my dreams a kaleidoscope of Jason’s face, disembodied voices, and endless, twisting corridors with no escape. I jerk awake with a scream when my phone rings. But the name on the screen isn’t Jason’s.
It is Valentina.
My finger sways over the answer button. Is it really her? Or is this another of Jason’s tricks?
But I am so tired. So scared. So desperately in need of a friendly voice.
I answer the call.
“Val?” My voice cracks, hoarse from unshed tears and silent screams.
“Char? Oh my God, you sound awful. Are you okay?”
Her concern hits me like a wave, threatening to roll over the composure I’d scraped together. I almost confess. I am so exhausted from handling this shit on my own. What I wouldn’t give to turn the burden over to someone else, even if it were just to share the load.
But I can’t. Valentina has found her happily ever after with a Greek shipping magnate. I can’t let my nightmare ruin her dream.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “I’m fine, Val. Really. Just… tired. It’s been a long week.”
“Are you sure? You sound…” She trails off, concern clear in her voice.
“I’m sure,” I say, injecting lightness into my tone. “But enough about me. What’s going on with you? How’s Greece? Is that husband treating you right?”
There is a pause, and for a moment, I fear she will press further. But then she sighs, a mix of exasperation and excitement coloring her voice. “Well, that’s why I’m calling… Val, I’m pregnant.”
Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips. I sit up, ignoring the tub cramps, and congratulate her. “Val, that’s wonderful. I’m going to be a god-aunt. I know I’ll have to fight Roz for the job, but still…”
“Thanks,” she laughs. “And yes, you will. You two can fight it out. We’re too happy to wage war.” She sighs, “But it hasn’t been easy. The morning sickness has been brutal.”
I slip into doctor mode, momentarily forgetting my troubles. “Have you been able to keep anything down? Are you staying hydrated?”
“Barely,” Val admits. “Which is part of why I’m calling. Leo’s been… well, Leo about the whole thing.”
As if on cue, I hear a deep voice in the background. “Is that her? Did you ask her? Tell her money is no object. I can have the plane ready to pick her up by tonight.”
Valentina’s exasperated sigh crackles through the phone. “I’m getting to it…” There is a muffled exchange before she comes back to the phone.
“Ask me what?” I say.
“Well,” Valentina says, drawing out the word, “Leo wants to hire a private physician. Someone to monitor the pregnancy full-time.”
I blink. Even for a man with more money than God, that is a bit over the top. But I don’t say anything. Instead, I say, “That’s… quite thorough of him.”
“That’s one word for it,” Val says with a smile in her voice. “Overprotective is another. But…” She pauses, and I can almost see her biting her lip, a habit from our college days. “Look, I know it’s a long shot, but I had to ask. Would you… would you consider coming to Greece? If I’m going to have my personal OB doctor, I’d love for it to be you.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. Greece? Leave everything behind?
But then, unbidden, Jason’s voice echoes in my mind. “You can’t shut me out, Charmaine. I’m always with you. Always watching.”
I twist my spine, stretching to relieve some of the discomfort. Maybe… maybe this is the escape I’ve been looking for.
“Char?” Val’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “I know it’s crazy. You have your whole life and your career there. I shouldn’t have asked. Just forget I—”
“No,” I interrupt, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. “No, don’t forget it. I… I think I’d like that. To come to Greece, I mean.”
“Really?” Val screeches, and I hold the phone away from my ear, laughing. “Oh, Char, that would be amazing. But are you sure? What about your job?”
I glance around the bathroom, at the tub where I’d spent the night clutching the phone. “I think… I think a change of scenery might be just what I need. And I already have my backups in place. Nobody is due or past due. As for the rest, my staff can handle them for at least…” I trail off, asking an unspoken question.
“Seven months. I’m due in seven months. That’s not too long is it?
“No. It’s perfect.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe this. You said yes. When Leo told me to ask you, I tried to explain that you have a life. That people can’t just uproot themselves to make him happy. But he’s a man and a Greek, so of course, the world revolves around his happiness.”
More muffled conversation follows her statement. But when she comes back, she is laughing and slightly breathless. “Okay, I take that last part back. Leandros Gataki is perfect in every way.” More laughter, and Leo’s voice booms approval in the background. I let them carry on with whatever shenanigans they have going on.
While I wait, a tiny spark of hope ignites in my chest. Greece. A fresh start. A place where Jason can’t reach me. But as I begin mentally packing, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers a warning.
He always finds you. Always.
Nicos
Thrusting my hips up, I give the girl riding my cock an encouraging bump before I lay back on the pillow and fold my arms under my head. She tries her best but can’t hold my interest, even with the bump. She’s way too young, probably only a day or two over twenty-one. Where the fuck are her parents? She’d strode into the club like she owned it. Propped up, no doubt, by the geeks and jocks that competed for her glances. I couldn’t have given a damn if she looked my way or not. Which was probably what attracted her. And women thought men had issues. How many perfectly nice, future industry leaders had she turned down to be with the bad boy?
I’d scanned the crowd, pretending to drink and given half an ear to what Gio was saying. Since I own the Marquis Diamond, I have to make an appearance. Show my face and pretend like this shit hasn’t gotten old. I bought the club to have a party place my father didn’t control. I’d purchased it at twenty-three after my father’s men had given him a report on who I’d got fucked, drunk, and shared drugs with. It was the drugs that had pissed him off. We sold them or air quotes transported them, but no Gataki would dare to take them. Punishment had been brutal—lesson learned. I never touched drugs again. I also never party in a place my father controls.
The first warehouse became a club that gave other clubs wet dreams. Since then, I’d renovated and opened ten more. Two Marquis were in Greece, one in Kouris and the other in Athens. The others are in major cities worldwide. My favorite Marquis Diamond is a yacht that hosts exclusive monthly parties. Twelve sailings per year, and the invitations are the most coveted in the world—and the priciest. On the Marquis yacht, there are no limits. You can be who or with who you want. Absolute freedom is a rare jewel in a world of cameras and spies. My party haven has never been breached, because no cameras, cops, or reporters are allowed. Ever.
Blondie moans and grabs my attention. She grinds her pussy in a haphazard rhythm that will never get either of us off. Damn college boys knew nothing about sex. I snag one of her tits in my lips and drag her hand to her clit, teaching her how to rotate it. Dammit, if she wants to get off with a guy who is only half into her, then she better learn how to make it fucking happen. I’m too bored to work harder. She just isn’t it for me. Lately, no one had been it. That’s why I brought her upstairs. I’m Cinderella’s prince, giving every girl a chance to try out my dick, hoping to find the one it fits.
Okay, that’s fucked up, even for me. But dammit, I don’t draft women. No, I have an all-volunteer army. And each recruit knows exactly what they’re signing up for.
She’s panting something about coming, and I’m trying to stifle a yawn when If I Ruled The World blared from my phone. Leo’s ringtone. She pouts when I lift a finger, but hey, I didn’t pull my cock out, and that’s all she wanted.
“Nicos. Get your ass over here.”
I look at the girl and smile. Patting her ass, I say. “Kind of busy.”
“Really,” I hear the curled lip in his voice. “What’s her name?”
“Sweetheart.”
He gives a sharp laugh. “When she’s important enough for you to remember her name, I’ll give you more consideration. Since she’s not. I expect you in twenty.” He hangs up. I take over the bouncing, clit rolling myself—sucking her tits until she finally collapses in a sweaty mess on my chest. The girl had given it the old college try. I gave her that.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I roar up the driveway and head towards the fountain. It is morning… when the fuck had the sun come up?
My family gathers around the full spread of breakfast heaven set on the buffet. Fruits, pastries, bougatsa, sfakianopita, all my favorites are nestled among fresh-cut flowers. How fucked up is it that the meal excites me more than “sweetheart” had? I load my plate and sit at the table, pushing Gio over to make space. Leo paces back and forth, his expensive loafers tapping along the warm stone with each turn.
