God help me.
He takes a deep breath then presses a kiss to the top of Athina’s head. “It won’t happen again.”
“Better not,” she mutters, but there’s no bite to her tone.
Nikolas walks to Mom and air kisses her cheek. “Sorry about the blood, Helena.”
Mom pats his arm as if it was nothing, making my lips part and my eyebrows draw together.
How can she just pretend it’s an everyday occurrence and nothing to worry about? My God, he probably killed someone right before coming here and threatened another person right in front of us!
Peter comes in, taking a seat next to Mom, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Nikolas as he stops by my chair.
Oh, God.
My heart instantly scampers off at a crazy beat, and a chill spreads over my skin, making me feel cold even though it’s a warm spring evening.
Feeling smaller than a speck of dust about to face off with the winds of a category five hurricane, I somehow manage to stand up, my legs numb and threatening to give way beneath me.
Nikolas’ sharp and merciless gaze sweeps over the length of my body, then his eyes lock with mine. Definitely sinful nights swirling in those irises. Not the sexy kind but the ruthless and painful kind. I suddenly have the urge to swallow hard.
“I apologize for the first impression I made.” It doesn’t sound like an apology but more like a threat, his voice deep and dangerous.
Somehow, I remember my manners. I introduce myself, the tightness in my voice giving away that I’m scared, “Theresa Drakatos. I prefer to be called Tess.”
He lifts his hand, and remembering the blood that coated his skin only minutes ago, I stare at it as if it’s a snake.
Yeah, no. That’s a hard pass for me. I don’t need that kind of bad karma in my life.
My gaze cautiously lifts to his, and I watch as those dark brown irises become even darker. Something akin to amusement flashes through them like a bolt of lightning. The kind of amusement a cat has while playing with a mouse.
He pulls his hand back. “Seeing as we’ll be family soon, let’s forgo the formalities.” Before I can take another breath, his hands grip hold of my bare shoulders, and I’m tugged against his solid chest. Instead of air kissing my cheeks, his lips singe my skin.
Rich and woody with notes of spice, raw masculinity, mystery… and something edgy, his scent fills my nostrils.
Probably the scent of blood.
The scent of power.
I’m so caught off guard I can’t process what’s happening until his mouth finds my ear. Goosebumps explode over my skin. “That’s the last time you’ll disrespect me. Next time you take my fucking hand.”
God, the threatening whisper sounds like velvet and thorns, causing a shiver of intense fear to rush through me.
Just as quickly as he took hold of me, he lets go, a menacing smirk plastered on his face. As if he didn’t just threaten me, he takes the seat to my left even though there are other seats available.
I don’t do confrontations. Ever. Because of how my cousin, Irene, tortured me, I struggle with anxiety and hence avoid any kind of volatile situation. Nikolas is as volatile as they come, though.
God, this is not going to end well for me. I can just feel it.
Dropping back down in my chair, I glance at Mom to check if she saw what just happened, but she’s too busy staring lovingly at her fiancé.
“Everything okay, Tess?” Athina asks, her eyes jumping between her brother and me.
Not wanting to start a fight with Nikolas and ruin Mom’s evening, I force my lips to curve up. “Yes.” She doesn’t look convinced, so I add, “It’s just overwhelming meeting everyone.”
Overwhelming is the understatement of the year! Holy shit.
Just sitting next to Nikolas, it feels like the air is vibrating as if every molecule is terrified of him.
“By the end of dinner, we’ll be one big happy family,” Peter says, but it sounds more like an order. A server comes in to fill our glasses with champagne, then Peter lifts his. “To new family.”
My soon-to-be stepbrother already threatened me, and I’ve only known him for a couple of minutes.
Yeah, I’m dead sure I want no part of the Stathoulis family.
Still, like the good girl I’m expected to be, I raise my glass to the toast, hoping to God I make it through the dinner in one piece.
Chapter 2
Nikolas
Rage still simmers in my veins from dealing with the Sicilian bastard who dared to sell heroin on my streets.
Stupid fucker.
Usually, I’d let my men deal with the scum, but I wanted to send a clear message of what will happen to the rest of the Sicilian mafia if they don’t get the fuck out of Vancouver.
I down half the glass of champagne but the sweet bubbles only sour my mood further. My eyes flick to the server, who instantly scurries to my side. “Whiskey,” I order, and a minute later, the tumbler’s set down in front of me.