Taken by a Sinner (Sinners 1)

His already bloody hands.

Instinctively, I inch closer to my mother.

Nikolas might easily be the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but knowing he’s the Godfather of the Greek mafia, every nerve ending in my body tenses with apprehension.

Shit, I can’t believe this man is going to be my stepbrother soon. It’s crazy just thinking about it.

The most feared man in Canada, and I have to associate with him. Pure madness.

Just laying eyes on him is enough to make fear trickle through my veins. The ruthless air radiating from him in waves has me swallowing hard, wishing I could find a spot to hide.

Peter’s dark, bushy eyebrows draw together, making him look like an eagle that’s ready to swoop down on its prey. “Nikolas?”

My eyes dart back to Nikolas, who only spares his father a pissed-off look before he heads up the stairs.

Peter sets off after his son, then a super awkward atmosphere falls over the entrance hall that has me itching to run for the safety of my apartment.

Athina turns to my mother. “I’m sorry, Theía Helena.”

Mom waves a careless hand as if the head of the mafia didn’t just storm by us with someone’s blood staining his shirt and hands. She gives Athina’s cheek an air kiss then turns to me.

A still stunned out of my mind me.

“This is my Theresa,” Mom introduces me.

“I’m Athina.” She takes in my shocked expression, then says, “Sorry for my brother. It’s not always this crazy at family gatherings.”

If you say so.

She tugs the other man closer. “This is my husband. Basil.”

“Nice to meet you both,” I say, my voice strung tight. Where Mom’s a social butterfly, I take after my late father. I’m an introvert who feels most at home behind a camera and screenplays, so tonight will definitely be exhausting.

I give Mom a look, clearly saying I don’t like this one bit.

Ignoring me, Mom says, “Let's move to the dining room while we wait for the men.”

She places her hand on my back, nudging me hard so I’ll start walking. Leaning into her, I whisper, “Seriously, Mamá?”

“Hush!”

Unlike the rectangular table we have at our house, the Stathoulis family has a round dining table. I’m shoved into a chair, then Mom takes the seat to my right.

The awkward atmosphere follows us from the entrance hall, hanging thickly over our heads. All my muscles are tense as if my body is ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

Then again, I should’ve made a run for it when Nikolas walked into the house covered in blood. Tonight is going to be torturously long, that’s for sure.

Mom and Athina talk about the upcoming wedding while the harsh reality sinks in – there’s a real possibility Nikolas killed, or at the very least, tortured someone right before coming here.

God, what was Mom thinking? Out of all the men she could’ve chosen, she had to pick the retired Godfather of the mafia.

Honestly, although I grew up in the mafia, I don’t know much about it. Mom always sheltered me, especially after Dad passed away. Most of the things I’ve heard were from my friends at school who were mafia princesses and my hateful cousin, Irene, who swooned over the man every chance she got. Some of my friends were madly in love with Nikolas as well, but the rest feared him as if he were death itself. Not wanting to find out for myself what kind of man he is, I kept myself separate from the murky waters of the mafia.

And I plan on keeping it that way.

Athina gives me a rueful smile while Basil’s busy on his phone. She notices and grabs the device from her husband's hand. “No phones at the table.” Then she turns her attention back to me. “You’re studying film production, right?”

“Ah… yeah.” I clear my throat.

“I think it’s interesting. I’ve never met someone in that field,” Athina replies, her tone friendly and genuine interest shining in her dark brown eyes.

Now that I actually get to look at her, I have to admit she’s gorgeous. She has plush lips and the same high cheekbones as Nikolas. If I’m not mistaken, Athina is eleven years older than me. The age difference alone sets us apart, never mind the fact she’s a mafia princess, and I’m… I’m the farthest thing from one.

“Unless you want more bodies delivered to your doorstep, you’ll get out of my fucking city,” Nikolas’ voice carries on a dangerous growl into the dining room. My eyes snap to the entrance, and an icy fear slithers down my spine when I watch him end whatever call he was on as he comes into the room.

Holy shit. This is really happening. I have to actually be social with a man who just threatened someone – a man who seriously looks like hell incarnate.