"So where were we when it happened? How did it happen? Was I good? I was, wasn't I?"

Honestly, every time I think this guy isn't that bad, he almost immediately ruins it for himself. "I don't want to talk about it," I say, tight-lipped. "I don't even remember what happened."

So . . . I had a sex dream last night. Featuring Lewis. And I cried his name out loud right as I was about to climax in my dream.

And he witnessed that last part.

I'd woke up to his laughter, his head peeking through the double doors to the bedroom. "I heard you moaning and wanted to check you were alright," he'd explained, face bright with triumph as I peered at him through bleary eyes. "But then you called out my name, and I knew you must be more than okay." He'd winked and walked away, leaving his soft chuckle echoing around me.

How very mortifying.

And now, as we walk to the welcome brunch the hotel is laying on for us, he's trying to press me for more details about the dream. Information I'm unwilling to provide.

You see, I was lying when I said I didn't remember it. My dreams aren't usually particularly vivid, and more often than not, they almost immediately fade from my memory as soon as I'm conscious. But this one didn't follow that same pattern. It was high definition, amazing colour resolution, surround sound. It seems I'd also recorded it, so it unwillingly replayed in my head.

It felt real.

It stayed with me when I showered, too. I scrubbed every inch of my skin viciously, as if trying to clean the memories away. But my body and my brain have betrayed me. Neither wants to forget. Both are acting like it actually did happen. And my brain is horrified, but my body . . . Well, it's very much continuing to react.

Because the dream intercourse was very, very good. So great that I can barely look the real world Lewis in the eye this morning.

And I think he definitely knows it.

He laughs again now, the sound engulfing me in another wave of humiliation. "Fine, keep it to yourself. I'm sure I'll catch another episode of it soon, anyway." He flashes me an evil grin, and I glower at him. "Oh, come on, Rub, do you want people to think that's how you look at your loving boyfriend?" He adds, tutting with mock-disapproval as we enter Reception.

Murder is a sin, I remind myself, not for the first time. More importantly, it will likely result in jail time, and I would not last two seconds in prison. I've watched enough episodes of Bad Girls to know I'm not cut out for the life of a con.

"Kalimera!" Maria, looking as fresh and beautiful as she did when she first greeted us, materialises seemingly from nowhere. "I hope you both slept well?"

"Ruby certainly did," Lewis replies, the humour in his eyes betraying his otherwise straight face. I paint a bright smile over my irritation.

"You were right about the bed. It was unbelievably comfortable," I tell Maria. "I could have slept for days."

It's almost indiscernable, but I definitely hear Lewis snigger at that.

Maria leads us through the reception to a large airy restaurant, weaving through the tables. "We have arranged for your welcome brunch to take place on our lovely secluded little patio," she tells us, pushing open a door and indicating for us to go outside. "Very private and romantic."

"Just what we wanted," I assure her, hoping my face doesn't reveal the lie.

The table in front of us is set next to a small, pretty pond, and it is covered in plates of food. Meat, cheese, pastries, fruit, yoghurt . . . As I sit down, reluctantly, opposite Lewis, I have no idea where to even begin! I don't even get a chance to consider this fully before a waitress appears with breakfast mimosas for us.

"It is not a boozy brunch without the alcohol, right?" Maria jokes, one eyebrow raised cheekily. "Please enjoy this spread. Someone will be out shortly to take your hot food order."

"More food?" I ask faintly. My stomach is already groaning in protest, and I haven't even started eating yet. That being said, when I pick up the menu and spot pancakes on it, my tummy suddenly starts to sing a different tune.

I could certainly get used to this sort of treatment.

"What would you normally be doing at this time on a normal Friday morning?" Lewis asks, out of nowhere, as he leans over to spear a chunk of watermelon with his fork.

"Clock-watching in the office and trying to decide what to have for lunch, probably," I reply honestly. "You?"

That wicked grin appears again, and I brace myself for the type of inappropriate comment it usually accompanies . . . But to my surprise, the smile levels out, and he shrugs. "Same thing." He reaches for the plate of meat. "Far better to be here, even if the circumstances are far from ideal."

It suddenly strikes me how little I actually know about Lewis. I've been acquainted with him for around three years (although aware of his reputation for a good deal longer than that), but I have resisted spending much time in his presence, despite our mutual friends. Unfortunately, the fact he is such good friends with Drew meant he came as an unwelcome package deal when Lauren and Drew got together.

I probably should make more of an effort, I acknowledge to myself. Maybe I should take advantage of the forced proximity to get to know him better. Find the weaknesses in his defence. Locate the buttons to push that wind him up most. Actually, this could be a very fruitful task, I reflect, struggling to hide my smirk.

"So what do you actually do for a living?" I ask, trying to sound natural. Friendly. It's weird asking him questions, though. He shoots me a suspicious look. He obviously thinks so, too.

"I work in marketing."

So do I - what a weird coincidence. I voice this out loud, and he ruffles up his hair, seeming more perplexed than distrustful now.

"I know you do," he replies. "I've always known that." His tone is pointed, and I feel somehow shamed. It seems that no matter how I approach him, no matter the angle I choose or the weapon I use, he always knows how to disarm me. Does nothing get to him? I'm relieved when another round of mimosas appears in front of us like magic. The boozy portion of this brunch is definitely a welcome distraction. Although my pancakes, when they arrive, are probably the best I've ever tasted.

I'm starting to wonder why I haven't taken a proper holiday in so long: I forgot how freeing it is to be in a foreign but wonderful place, knowing friends and family back home are just going about their normal lives, while you're sipping a cocktail in the sunshine without a care in the world. It's a whole different way of life! Although it would be better if I was here with someone who actually wanted to be with me. And vice versa, of course.

"Lewis, Ruby!" Maria has appeared beside us again, beaming from ear to ear. She has brought back-up mimosas. I love her. "You are having a wonderful, romantic time, I hope?"

"The best," Lewis says tonelessly, his eyes meeting mine briefly and then sliding away. He's been slightly off with me since I asked about his job. I've tried to re-start the conversation a couple of times, even dangled a few anecdotes dripping with tempting double entendres like bait, but he refuses to bite. It's unsettling to be the one who is actively trying to engage with him - a switch in power that I don't particularly enjoy.

"It's been amazing!" I'm overcompensating. One of us has to!

"This makes me so happy," Maria gushes. "We must make this stay a memorable one for such a lovely couple." She glances behind her, and something she sees causes her face to light up. "Milos," she calls. "You must come and meet our extra special guests!" She turns back to us excitedly. "This is my step-brother, Milos. He is the manager of the hotel."

I feel like I must be hallucinating. I'm fairly certain my mouth drops open. I'm also worried I might be drooling.

Because the man approaching - Milos, I assume - is as perfect as the hotel itself. He could star in adverts for it. Holiday-makers would sell their souls to join him here. I'm already inwardly bartering with the devil to extend my stay indefinitely.

Think Greek God. Think cover model. Think Hugo Boss advert on a billboard. That's Milos.

I believe he says something to me as he takes my hand. I don't hear it over the romantic overture playing loudly in my brain. Actually, the music is probably more akin to a cheesy soundtrack in a 1980s soft porn film. This is insta-lust on steroids.

"I'm Rub - er - Ruby," I blurt out.

Rubber Ruby?

I don't normally act this stupid - even around someone as handsome as Milos - so I'm going to blame my temporary lobotomy on the fact I haven't had sex in approximately three years. And on that blasted dream. And on Lewis, who is currently witnessing my meltdown with a sceptical smirk. Less than 24 hours in his company, and I'm already losing the plot!

Milos smiles at me, beautiful green eyes twinkling. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he says. He actually looks like he means it, which helps settle my nerves a little. The fact that he seems to be a nice guy slightly takes the intimidating edge off his looks. He turns to greet Lewis, and I raise my hands to my cheeks, which are flaming hot. Today is so far proving to be one embarrassment after another - what is next?

"You don't want to go on the boat trip?" I suddenly hear Milos say to Lewis and realise the conversation has been continuing without me. Oh . . . Does Lewis have a plan to get us out of some of the itinerary items? Is he actually going to be useful for a change? My ears perk up eagerly.

"We'd love to go, of course," Lewis says regretfully, sounding completely genuine. "But Ruby once had a bad experience on a booze cruise with a terrible hypnotist as its onboard entertainment. Long story short: something went awry mid-hypnosis, and now my girl can barely look at a boat without getting the sudden urge to perform a striptease."

Oh, for goodness sake! I notice both Maria and Milos eyeing me warily and decide instant action is required. I'm not sure if they believe his lie or not . . . But I definitely don't want them to think it's in any way true. And I don't want to throw their kindness back in their faces either.

I hurriedly jump to my feet, forcing a laugh. "He's kidding!" I insist. "As I said to Dimitrios last night, Lewis can be quite the joker. We're actually really excited about the boat trip." I hesitate, grinding my teeth briefly before I add: "And all the other activities you have planned for us, of course."

Whether he intended to or not, Lewis just painted us both into a corner. Because while I might not actually be able to do anything with Greek God Milos, I also want to make the best possible impression on him.

And if that means going along with all the plans like a good girl, then I guess that's what I'm going to have to do . . .

I hope you're still enjoying the story! This one is chugging along quite slowly at the moment as inspiration isn't coming fast, but I hope you all aren't minding too much!

And thanks to everyone reading along - I love catching up on the comments! 💜