Seduced by Passion

Seduced by Passion - Chapter 1

His Ra

Raph scowled at the six-foot, three-inch man staring back at him in the bathroom mirror. Fatigue had settled in pockets under his sleep-deprived eyes, and a black five o'clock shadow covered his olive skin. He took great pride in his appearance, but with the circumstances of the last week and a half, especially the last few hours, grooming had been the furthest thing from his mind.

Bending under the weight of sadness and unease, he turned on the faucet, splashed cold water on his face, then threaded his wet hands through his rumpled hair, pressing the black strands against the collar of his white shirt. Lifting a clean towel from a stack on the counter, he dried his face and eyed his reflection again. He still looked disheveled, but at least he felt somewhat refreshed.

He exited the bathroom and, ignoring the hum of voices coming from the living room, he headed toward the large oak door at the end of the hall. As soon as he opened it, the smell of ammonia and antiseptic flooded his nostrils and the sound of air being forced through congested lungs filled his ears.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Raph walked over to the bed and gazed at the ninety-three-year-old patriarch of the Giannopoulos family sleeping in the middle of the bed. His wraithlike body was propped up by pillows on either side, and his skin was so pallid, he was almost indistinguishable from the white cotton sheet beneath him—a stark contrast to the towering man he used to be.

His name was Andris Sebastian Giannopoulos, and he was Raph's beloved pappoús.

Andris was more than a grandfather, though. He was the man who'd made Raph feel safe and protected as a little boy. Raph remembered the feelings of security when his grandfather held his hand, of excitement when they flew kites on the beach while waves lapped at their feet and the wind tugged at their clothes, and of contentment as they solved jigsaw puzzles together.

Solving jigsaw puzzles was Andris' favorite pastime, and of his three grandsons, Raph was the only one who showed interest in his hobby. He loved the challenge of creating beauty from chaos, but that wasn't the only thing that had kept Raph sitting and sifting through thousands of identical cardboard pieces for hours, days, and sometimes weeks. It was his love for his grandfather, and the joy he got from spending time with him. He hoped that over the years he'd given the old man as much love and joy as he received from him.

The flap of the white linen window curtains, moving in the cool evening breeze brought Raph back from the past, and into the dread of the dimly lit room. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he eased his body down onto a chair beside the bed, reached out, and methodically brushed the gray, wrinkled brow, just as Andris had brushed his when he was a little boy in need of comfort. And God knew he and his brothers, Neo, and Tele, had needed a whole lot of comfort when they were children.

Even though they had outgrown that need, their grandfather still piled it on every chance they gave him, until two years ago when he suffered a stroke that robbed him of his ability to speak and his mobility on the right side of his body.

Under the care of the best doctors and therapists that money could buy, after many small incremental improvements, two weeks ago, Raph and his brothers had gotten good news from the doctors. Andris had regained his speech and was asking to see his family. It was the miraculous breakthrough they'd all been praying for, and they'd immediately flown to Santorini to be with him.

For the past week and a half, Andris had been talkative as he visited with his grandsons, his great-granddaughter, Petra, and their extended family. Everyone thought he was surely on his way back to a full recovery, but a few days ago, even though his speech was still strong, his body had weakened, and he'd developed a severe case of pneumonia. This morning, his doctor had warned the family that the infection, and his old age, would claim him before the next sunrise. It was as though his grandfather had fought his way out of his prison of silence, just to bid his family farewell.