Forbidden Attraction

Chapter One: Sparks Over Santorini The air in Santorini smells like salt and secrets, and I’m already drunk on it. The plane’s wheels screech against the tarmac, jolting me out of a daydream about escaping my mother’s perfectly planned life. I’m eighteen, barely out of high school, and this family vacation is supposed to be a bonding thing for Mom, her new husband Richard, and me. But as I step into the blinding Greek sun, my flip-flops slapping against the pavement, I feel like I’m walking into something dangerous. Something alive. “Move it, Ava!” Mom’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp as ever. She’s striding ahead, blonde hair pinned up like she’s ready for a board meeting instead of a beach. Richard trails her, his suit jacket slung over one arm, muttering into his phone about some deal. I roll my eyes and tug my backpack higher, my vintage Ramones tee sticking to my skin in the heat. The ride to the villa is a blur of whitewashed buildings and turquoise sea, but I’m distracted by the guy in the driver’s seat of our rental van. He’s not the chauffeur I expected. He’s young, maybe mid-twenties, with dark hair curling at the edges and a jawline that could cut glass. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, catching mine, and a smirk tugs at his lips. My stomach does a weird flip, like I’ve missed a step going downstairs. “You must be Ava,” he says, voice low and rough, like he’s smoked one too many cigarettes. “I’m Daniel. Richard’s brother.” I blink, my brain scrambling to catch up. Brother? Richard’s, what, forty-seven? This guy looks like he belongs in a rock band, not a family tree. “Step-uncle, huh?” I say, leaning forward, my elbows on the back of his seat. “Didn’t know Richard had a cool sibling.” He chuckles, a sound that vibrates through me. “Cool’s one word for it. Trouble’s another.” Mom shoots me a look from the front passenger seat. “Ava, sit back. And Daniel, focus on the road. These cliffs are treacherous.” “Yes, ma’am,” Daniel says, but his eyes find mine again in the mirror, and there’s a glint there—something reckless, something that makes my pulse race. --- The villa is ridiculous, all white stone and infinity pools spilling into the horizon. I’m sprawled on a lounge chair by the pool, sunglasses perched on my nose, pretending to read a dog-eared copy of *The Bell Jar* while sneaking glances at Daniel. He’s across the courtyard, helping Richard unload luggage, his black tee clinging to his shoulders. Every time he bends to grab a bag, I notice the way his muscles shift, the faint outline of a tattoo peeking from his sleeve. I’m not supposed to notice these things. He’s family, sort of. But my body doesn’t seem to care about the rules. Dinner is worse. We’re at a cliffside restaurant, the kind with candlelit tables and waiters who look like they moonlight as models. The sea sparkles below, and the air hums with cicadas and laughter. Mom’s in her element, chatting with Richard about some charity gala back in Chicago, her wineglass catching the light. Richard nods, his face all business, but I catch him glancing at Daniel, who’s slouched in his chair, spinning a fork between his fingers like a bored kid. “So, Daniel,” I say, leaning across the table, my voice louder than I mean it to be. “What’s your deal? You don’t seem like the corporate type like your brother.” Mom’s fork pauses midair, and Richard’s jaw tightens, but Daniel just grins, leaning forward to match my posture. “My deal?” he says, his green eyes locking onto mine. “Let’s just say I’m allergic to desk jobs. Been bouncing around—Barcelona, Lisbon, a few places I probably shouldn’t name. Life’s too short to stay still.” “Sounds like you’re running from something,” I say, half-teasing, half-curious. My heart’s pounding, and I don’t know why. “Maybe I’m running *to* something,” he shoots back, his voice dropping just enough to make it feel like we’re the only two at the table. “Ava, don’t pry,” Mom says, her tone clipped. “Daniel’s just… finding his path.” “Path’s overrated,” Daniel says, winking at me. “Sometimes you gotta make your own.” Richard clears his throat, loud enough to break the moment. “Daniel’s always been good at making things complicated,” he says, his voice cold. “Let’s keep this trip simple, shall we?” I bite my lip, sinking back in my chair, but Daniel’s still watching me, his smirk softer now, like we’re sharing a secret. My cheeks burn, and I hate how much I like it. --- Later, the moon’s high, painting the cove below the villa silver. I can’t sleep—jet lag, or maybe it’s the way Daniel’s voice keeps replaying in my head. I slip out of my room, barefoot, in a tank top and shorts, and head to the private beach. The water’s warm, lapping at my toes as I wade in, the night air cool against my skin. I’m not expecting company, so when I hear footsteps crunching on the sand, I spin around, heart in my throat. It’s Daniel. He’s in swim trunks, a towel slung over his shoulder, his hair messy from the breeze. “Couldn’t sleep either?” he asks, stopping a few feet away. The moonlight catches the scar above his eyebrow, and I wonder what kind of trouble left it there. “Nope,” I say, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracks. “Too much… everything.” He steps closer, the space between us shrinking. “Santorini does that. Makes you feel like the world’s bigger than you thought.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “Or maybe that’s just you.” My breath catches. He’s too close, and I should back away, but my feet won’t move. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?” I whisper, echoing his earlier words. “More than you know,” he says, his voice soft but heavy, like he’s warning me. “But you’re not exactly the good-girl type either, are you, Ava?” I laugh, nervous, my fingers twisting the hem of my tank top. “You don’t know me.” “I’m starting to,” he says, stepping even closer, so close I can smell the salt on his skin. “And I think you’re someone who doesn’t like rules.” My heart’s hammering now, loud enough I’m sure he can hear it. “Rules are boring,” I say, tilting my chin up, daring him to make a move. He does. His hand brushes my arm, just a graze, but it sends a jolt through me like I’ve touched a live wire. “Careful, Ava,” he murmurs. “Play with fire, you might get burned.” “Then why are you here?” I challenge, my voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t answer, just holds my gaze, and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. The air crackles, the waves crash, and I’m drowning in the moment. But then he steps back, his smirk returning like a shield. “Go for a swim,” he says, nodding at the water. “Cool off.” I want to scream at him for pulling away, but I just nod, wading deeper into the cove. The water’s up to my waist when I turn back, and he’s still there, watching me, his silhouette dark against the moonlit sand. “You coming in or what?” I call, trying to sound playful, but my voice shakes. He hesitates, then drops his towel and wades in, the water rippling around him. We’re silent for a moment, floating a few feet apart, the tension between us thicker than the humid air. “This is a bad idea,” he says finally, his voice low, almost to himself. “What is?” I ask, though I know exactly what he means. “Us. This.” He gestures between us, his eyes dark with something I can’t read—want, maybe, or regret. “You’re too young, and I’m too—” “Too what?” I cut him off, swimming closer. “Too dangerous? Too old? Too related?” He laughs, a sharp, bitter sound. “All of the above. But you’re making it real hard to care, Ava.” My heart skips, and I’m close enough now to see the water droplets clinging to his lashes. “Then don’t,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me. “Don’t care.” He’s quiet for a beat, then he’s moving, closing the gap until we’re inches apart. His hand finds my waist under the water, and I gasp, the touch searing even in the cool sea. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, his voice rough, his thumb brushing my skin. “Then show me,” I whisper, and it’s like I’ve lit a match. His lips crash into mine, urgent and hungry, and I’m kissing him back, my hands tangling in his wet hair. The world disappears—the waves, the villa, the rules. It’s just us, salt and heat and a thousand reasons this is wrong. His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer, and I’m lost in him, in the way he tastes like danger and freedom. But then he pulls back, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against mine. “We can’t,” he says, his voice ragged. “Not here. Not like this.” I’m about to argue when a light flicks on at the villa, sharp and accusing, cutting through the darkness. My stomach drops. Someone’s awake. Someone’s watching. Daniel’s eyes widen, and he grabs my hand, pulling me toward the shore. “Go,” he hisses. “Now.” I scramble out of the water, my heart pounding, but as I glance back, I see a shadow moving on the villa’s balcony—tall, broad-shouldered, unmistakably Richard. He’s staring right at us, his face unreadable in the dark. My breath catches, and I freeze, Daniel’s hand still gripping mine. “Ava,” Daniel whispers, urgent. “Run.” But before I can move, Richard’s voice booms across the cove, cold and commanding. “Daniel! Get up here. Now.”