Truths and Lies Duet

It’s not that I’m giving up on escaping, but I’m not stupid enough to be careless about it anymore. I underestimated him. I lumped him into the same category as my father and the men I’ve met over the years who work for him. Kostas is not my father. He’s on an entirely different level. Leaving is going to require extensive planning because if he catches me the next time, I have no doubt he will make me suffer the way he made that man suffer in the cellar.

I shiver at the thought of what he would do to me if he caught me trying to leave again. No, the next time I leave, I have to make sure I completely disappear.

When we step through the threshold of Kostas’s place, I realize that while the outside looks similar to the hotel rooms, inside is vastly different. For one, it’s massive. Just the foyer and living room are at least twice the size of the entire room I was staying in. I thought my room was exquisite, but his puts my room to shame.

Brown and white marble flooring expands across the entire area. Plush coffee-colored leather couches, a mahogany wood coffee table, and a beautiful fireplace make up the living room. The walls are different shades of brown with a few strategically placed pieces of art hanging up. It’s clearly a typical bachelor pad, but upgraded to fit Kostas’s level of wealth.

I follow him past the expansive kitchen that matches the living room perfectly, with its mahogany wood cabinets and marble countertops. Complete with stainless steel appliances. As I walk through Kostas’s home, I quickly come to the realization that my family’s money couldn’t even afford to have a conversation with Kostas’s family’s money. This is why Nonno said their decision is law. They can afford to make things go their way.

Kostas stops when he enters what appears to be the master bedroom. The same color scheme has continued into his room, but to soften it a bit, cream has been added to the mix. In the center of the room is a king-sized four-poster bed. If in any other standard master bedroom it would appear overwhelming, in this room it fits perfectly. The bed is solid wood and has intricate designs running up each of the poles. When my eyes land on the cream-colored sheets, it hits me. I’m expected to sleep in this bed with Kostas. The man who just singlehandedly took the life of another man.

“We’re not married yet,” I blurt out, terrified all over again. “Shouldn’t I sleep somewhere else until we are?”

Kostas, who has already stripped down to his boxers, raises a single brow. “If you’re afraid of me stealing your virtue, don’t worry. I have no intention of touching you until we’re married. My mother raised me to be a gentleman.” He smirks. “But later tonight, you will be sleeping in this bed with me.”

My eyes rake over Kostas’s body. Various tattoos cover his chiseled chest, rock-hard abs, and corded biceps and forearms. He’s not overly muscular, but it’s apparent he works out and keeps in shape. It’s probably all from sawing off body parts and then beating people with them…

The only man’s body I’ve ever paid any attention to was Alex’s, and the vast difference between the two men is evident. Where Alex is toned and lean, his body is clearly that of a boy, while Kostas’s body…it’s all man…and scary.

“You like what you see, moró mou?” Kostas asks when he catches me checking him out. My eyes swing back up to meet his hazel ones. They’re no longer dark like they were in the cellar. No longer angry. Now, they’re softer, taking on a beautiful honey color. For a moment, I’m mesmerized by the way his eyes change according to his mood. Earlier, it’s clear he was angry, but right now, I can’t quite figure out what his mood is.

“I asked you a question,” he utters, his eyes brightening just a tad.

“No,” I say, answering his question, “and stop calling me moró mou. I’m not your baby. I’m not your anything.” I flinch as soon as the words are out, afraid of what his reaction will be. I’ve never been good at simply obeying. My mother always told me I’m stubborn and strong-willed, and I can do anything I put my mind to because I’m not the kind of person to give up. I always considered those traits a good thing, but now, those same traits may be what gets me killed…or worse.

Kostas cuts across the room and is in my face before I can apologize. He pushes me against the dresser, the carved wood digging into my back. His hands come down on either side of my body, caging me in, his face only a hairbreadth away from mine. His gaze locks with mine.