I'm hoping there's no CCTV set up around the suite as I try to situate myself on a lilo in the private pool later that same day. It's definitely difficult to do this gracefully. I nearly fall in the pool several times. I'm certainly glad Lewis isn't around to witness it.

Shortly after Maria and Milos left us, he muttered something about needing to stretch his legs and marched off the patio. That was three hours ago, and there's been no sign of him since. His mood had definitely darkened over the course of brunch. I'm used to him being an annoyingly happy-go-lucky type of guy, so it's been a little unsettling to see him in another light.

I thoroughly welcome the peace, though. I've set my Spotify up to play my "Crete 2024 Playlist", and Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding are currently accompanying my lazy float around the water. This is actually pretty damn blissful. I could stay like this forever.

My mind drifts dreamily to the gorgeous Milos. He didn't seem too bothered by my fleeting journey into idiocy . . . In fact, if anything, he seemed rather charmed! I definitely felt a vibe from him. Unfortunately, there's not much I can do about that, considering I'm meant to be on holiday with the love of my life! So I suppose I'll just have to look but not touch.

I hear the door to the suite open and shut at that point and wince at the sound; I guess Lewis has returned from his adventures. I had been hoping for a little more alone time, but I guess I'm just being greedy now.

He appears in the doorway, and I'm relieved to see his mood seems to have improved. "Good walk?" I ask, raising my voice to be heard over Ellie. He nods while starting to unbutton his shirt. I avert my eyes: I don't need to see what's under there.

But I also want to see what's under there.

"I walked down the hill to the beach - it was really nice, actually," he replies. "I'm fucking knackered now, though." I find myself watching him again, almost against my own will. Eyeballing the thin sheen of sweat coating his skin. The abs. The olive skin. That little trail of dark hair running down from his navel and disappearing behind the waistband of his shorts . . .

Damn it!

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," he advises with another one of his infuriating winks, and I blush as I realise I'm well and truly busted. Then he launches himself into the pool, sending water flying everywhere. My lilo rocks dangerously on the waves this move has created, and I find myself sliding off the inflatable and under the water as it tilts me to one side.

Oh well; at least this should cool down my tomato face! I'm annoyed that my quiet time has been disrupted within twenty seconds of his reappearance though. Classic Lewis! I'm spitting metaphorical feathers and literal water as I break the surface, gasping for air.

"You're a prick," I inform him, treading water as I glare across the pool. "You knew that would happen."

"Just trying to cool you down," he replies, thoroughly unbothered. "You looked like you were getting a little . . . Hot under the collar. I had no idea taking my top off would affect you like that."

That fecking does it. I splash as much water as I can in his direction and have the satisfaction of it hitting him directly in his stupid smug handsome face. And then I swim towards the stairs to exit the pool.

"You're leaving already?" He shouts after me, mock-hurt coating his voice. "But we were having so much fun!"

Ignoring him, I snatch my phone and towel up from the nearby lounger, relieved to note that they have not fallen victim to Tsunami Sheridan. "Ruby, wait!" He shouts, and I stop and turn to face him reluctantly. Maybe he's actually going to apologise for attempting to drown me?

Instead, his dark gaze scans up my body, from my toes to my face, before he meets my eyes. He doesn't say anything for a second, and I realise this is probably retribution for me having a cheeky perv at him before. Then that devilish grin lights up his face. "I just thought you should know your swimsuit is see-through when wet." Then he dives back under the water, allowing me to make a quick exit.

Crap, he's right, I realise as I stand in front of the bedroom mirror and see pretty much everything the white bathing costume was meant to be concealing. Okay, well, I guess that's the only outing this particular item of swimwear will ever get!

I shower and slip a pale pink playsuit on, deciding it's my turn to put some distance between me and Lewis. As I walk to the door, I glance out at the pool and see my fake boyfriend has acquired my lilo and could currently be the ultimate poster boy for relaxation. I'm tempted to throw some more water over him, but instead, I settle for swiping his keycard for the room. Without it, he won't have access to any electricity. I giggle delightedly as I let myself out of the suite.

Earlier, I noticed a cocktail bar at the far side of the communal pool area, so I make a beeline for it now. The drinks menu is extensive, and I scan it in appalled delight. How on earth am I meant to choose, with so many enticing options on the menu?

"I would recommend one of the daiquiris." Milos is suddenly beside me. I don't know how anyone can look so cool and collected wearing a suit in 32-degree heat, but he pulls it off impeccably. Meanwhile, I'm sweating like the proverbial pig. I'm also wishing I'd put more make-up on and actually dried my hair fully. I wasn't expecting to see him again so soon. "Perhaps  mango?"

"That actually sounds amazing," I reply gratefully. I'm happy to have the decision taken out of my hands. Decidophobia is real and I find it almost debilitating at times.

"Allow me." With a wink, he moves behind the bar, much to my surprise, and starts to assemble my cocktail himself. The noise of the blender obviously makes it difficult to make conversation, so I take the opportunity while his back is turned to admire his nice little arse, of course. He's also taken off his jacket and rolled his sleeves up, which gives me the added bonus of watching his tanned forearms flex as he works. Goodness, he is delicious.

As is the mango daiquiri. The first sip almost sends me to heaven. "How are you so good at this?" I ask him in wonder. "This is incredible!"

He laughs. "My first job in hospitality was working in a bar. I have a - how do you say it? - an encyclopedic knowledge of most alcoholic drinks!"

"Well, you're welcome to come around to mine and make me cocktails anytime," I joke, instantly regretting the forwardness of my comment. But he merely smiles, his green eyes fixing on mine and lingering there.

"It would be my pleasure," he says, his voice deepening ever so slightly.

Is Milos flirting with me?

And, if he is, do I want him to be?

I think the answer to that is definitely yes. However, I'm also aware I have to be careful, given the fact he believes I'm with Lewis. So I should probably back off a bit.

"Your English is amazing!" I tell him hurriedly, changing the subject. "I hope that doesn't sound patronising; it's just that I always feel like such an idiot abroad because I don't know any other languages. Well, apart from a very basic schoolgirl grasp of French . . . but most restaurants in France don't want to know my age and how many siblings I have!"

I'm babbling - "Rubber Ruby" is back in the house - but somehow, Milos genuinely doesn't seem to mind. He chuckles again.

"I've spent a lot of time in the U.K. working - mostly in Scotland, believe it or not! You are from Glasgow, yes?"

"I am!" I grasp onto that question eagerly. "Wow, you even recognise the accents?"

"Just the Glaswegian one," he replies. "It's quite strong, shall we say?"

Oh god. I make a mental vow to try to tone mine down a bit. We drift into an easy conversation about Glasgow and its people, and he makes me another daiquiri (strawberry this time) and I don't realise I've been propping up the bar for over an hour until Lewis appears beside me.

"Having fun?" He asks lightly, but I can sense a slight edge to his voice.

"Definitely!" I exclaim. The mimosas and daiquiris have definitely had an effect on me, leaving me slightly tipsy. It's nice. Relaxing. Even Lewis' presence can't dampen this pleasurable little buzz. "Milos was just teaching me some Greek words. Yamas!" I brandish my half-empty glass in his direction. "That means cheers!"

"I know." Lewis nods towards Milos in an apparent greeting. "I would have thought you'd have more important work to do than keeping my girlfriend topped up with alcohol," he comments. It's teasing, but there's still that sharpness lurking underneath.

Wait . . . Is he jealous? Surely not!

"Looking after my guests is my top priority," Milos declares in response. He sounds ever-so-slightly defensive - guilty conscience, perhaps? "And you two are currently our VIP guests." He checks his watch. "I am, however, running late for a call."

"Of course you are," Lewis says dryly.

"What are your plans for dinner?" Milos seems to be pretending he didn't hear Lewis' last comment. "Can I give you any restaurant suggestions?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," I say, at the same time as Lewis replies: "That would be great!" I guess we probably do have to have dinner together. We're meant to be a couple, after all . . . And we have additional prize euros to burn.

Hopefully we don't have to spend every evening with each other though!

"Further up the hill from here, you will find the beautiful old village of Koutouloufari," Milos tells us. "There are many incredible restaurants there." He recommends one which he claims does the most amazing lamb, and tells us that Dimitrios will drive us.

"Am I underdressed for this restaurant? Do I need to go back to my room and change?" I ask him anxiously, and he shakes his head vehemently.

"You look perfect," he tells me, his eyes meeting mine for a beat too long. Lewis clears his throat, pointedly, and Milos looks away quickly.

God. This is already getting way too complicated . . .