NO STRINGS, NO SINS

Chapter 2

I fell asleep against his shoulder somewhere over the Atlantic, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my inner wrist. The caldera sunrise bled pink and gold across the water when we landed. Liam carried both our bags like they weighed nothing. A private car waited, a black Mercedes driver holding a sign that simply read SMITH.

I raised an eyebrow. “Long story,” he said, smirking. We were halfway to Oia when the driver took a private road up to a cliffside villa that looked like it belonged in a magazine. White walls, infinity pool spilling into the sea, bougainvillea dripping purple over arches.

“This is the wedding venue?” I asked, stunned.

“Among other things,” he thanked the driver in fluent Greek, then turned to me. “Your friend Shannon upgraded everyone last minute. Apparently, the groom’s family insisted.” My stomach lurched. The groom, Alex. My Alex from four years ago, before he decided I wasn't ambitious enough for his future.

Liam’s hand settled at the small of my back, warm through my thin dress. “Are you okay?” Before I could answer, a familiar voice rang out. “Fran? Holy s**t, you made it!”

Shannon flew down the steps in a silk robe, blonde hair in rollers, and crushed me into a hug. Over her shoulder, I saw the welcome board:

SHANNON & ALEXANDER. WELCOME TO FOREVER

My throat closed. Shannon pulled back, eyes flicking at Liam. “And you brought…?”

“My date,” I said quickly. “Liam Smith.” Her smile faltered for half a second, something unreadable, then returned full wattage. “Well damn, girl. Come on, everyone’s dying to meet you.” Liam’s fingers tightened on my spine as we followed her inside.

The villa was chaos wrapped in luxury, bridesmaids in matching robes sipping mimosas, groomsmen already shirtless by the pool, flower arrangements the size of small cars. I spotted Marcus’s younger brother Jordan first, same dark hair, same cocky grin, only kinder eyes. He lifted a hand in greeting.

And then I saw him…. Alex. He stood at the edge of the terrace in linen trousers and an open white shirt, talking to a photographer. The years have been kinder, taller, broader, sun-kissed. When he turned, his gaze locked on me like a heat-seeking missile.

His eyes widened. I felt Liam stiffen beside me. Alex crossed the terrace in four strides. “Frances.” His voice still did that thing, low and intimate, like we were the only two people in the world. “You came.”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Alex’s gaze shifted to Liam, then to the proprietary hand still at my waist. Something dangerous flickered across his face.

“Alexander Smith,” he said, offering a hand that Liam didn't take. Liam’s smile was all teeth. “ Smith.” The name clearly registered. Alex’s jaw flexed.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jordan’s head snap up, eyes narrowing. Shannon looked between all of us like she was watching a bomb tick. And that's when Alex said the words that turned my blood to ice. “ Liam Smith,” he repeated slowly. “As in my brother?”

The terrace went dead silent except for the wind snapping the welcome banner overhead. Liam’s hand dropped from my waist like I’d burned him. I stared at Alex. Then at Liam. Then back at Alex.

“What did you just say?” My voice cracked like glass. Alex’s smile was sharp enough to cut. “Tell her, little brother. Or should I?” Liam, beautiful, infuriating Liam looked like someone had punched him in the soul. His glacier eyes met mine, and for the first time since the airport, the mask slipped.

“France,” he started. “No.” I stepped back, bumping into a table of champagne flutes. Crystal shattered. “You’re his brother? Alex’s brother?”

“Half-brother,” Liam corrected quietly. “ Different mothers. Same bastard father.”

Alex laughed bitterly. “He conveniently forgets to mention that part when he’s stealing my fiancée’s best friend, apparently.”

“I'm not anyone’s to steal,” I snapped. Shannon’s face had gone white. Jordan moved to her side, hand on her shoulder like he was holding her upright.

Liam took one step toward me. I flinched. “Don’t.” The word came out shredded. “You knew. The entire flight. The bathroom. All of it, you knew who I was.”

“I knew your name,” he said, voice raw. “I didn’t know you were her until we landed, and the driver said Smith's wedding.”

“Bullshit,” Alex snarled. “You always know exactly what you’re doing.” Liam’s head snapped towards his brother. For the first time, I saw real rage in those beautiful features. “Like you knew what you were doing when you f****d my girlfriend in college? We are keeping scores now, Alex?”

The air cracked. I couldn't breathe. Every gaze in the villa was on us, bridesmaids frozen mid-sip, groomsmen exchanging looks. Somewhere, a phone camera flashed. I turned and ran.

Down the steps, past the pool, heels clacking on marble until I hit the gravel path leading to the private cove below. The Aegean wind whipped my hair across my face, salt stinging my eyes. Or maybe those were tears. I heard footsteps behind me, fast, determined.

“Frances!” Liam caught my wrist, spinning me around. His chest heaved. “I didn’t lie to hurt you. I didn’t know until it was too late.”

“Too late for what?” I yanked free. “To not f**k me in an airplane bathroom? To not let me beg you to be my fake boyfriend in front of the one family who already ruined me once?”

He flinched like I slapped him. “I meant what I said on the plane,” he rasped. “No strings. But somewhere between take-off and landing, it stopped being fake for me.” I laughed hysterically. “You’re his brother. The universe has a sick sense of humor.”

Footsteps again, heavier. Alex appeared at the top of the path, face dark with fury. Liam stepped in front of me like a shield. “Back off, Alex,” he warned.

“Or what?” Alex started down the steps. “You think you can just take whatever I…? I’d had enough. I shoved past both of them, storming back up the path. My sundress stuck to my sweat-slicked skin. At the terrace, I found Shannon wringing her hands.

“I need a room,” I told her. “Far away from both of them.” She nodded, tears in her eyes. “Top floor, east wing. No one's in that wing yet.” I didn’t look back to see which brother followed my retreat with their eyes. I locked the door, stripped off the dress that still smelled like Liam's cologne and airplane s*x, and stood under the shower until the water ran cold.

When I finally came out, wrapped in a robe, there was a single white rose on the pillow and a note in sharp, masculine handwriting:

I’m still your date if you'll have me. No more secrets

—L

Underneath in smaller letters: P.S. My brother’s an asshole. Always has been.

That part wasn't a lie. I stared at the rose until the sun climbed high enough to burn the horizon blood-red. The wedding is in four days. And somehow, I was trapped on an island with both Smith brothers burning holes through my life all over again.