Priesthood:
A gathering of Mafia dons that was in effect a convocation of the nation’s priesthood of organized crime
“Fear is the most valuable commodity in the universe.”
–— Max Brooks
An armed guard opens the engraved wooden door, and with a curt nod, he steps to the side so I can enter the house. It’s only my second time visiting the Stathoulis’ home, so the place is still foreign and intimidating. I’ll never get used to all the guards littered over the property.
A couple of weeks ago, my mother got engaged to the retired Godfather of the Greek mafia. We’re having our first family dinner tonight, and needless to say, I’m feeling anxious about meeting Nikolas and Athina, Peter’s children.
The couple of times I’ve talked to Peter, it always ended with me fidgeting like a little girl. The man has a serious set of eyebrows that makes him look threatening and short-tempered. Even though he’s never been hostile toward me, it always feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Mom’s assured me he’s sweet and caring, and I have nothing to worry about. As much as I don’t like the idea of my mother marrying Peter Stathoulis, it’s her choice to make. She deserves to be happy.
My dad died during a skiing accident when I was eight, and my mom spent all her time raising me. She only resumed socializing after I started classes at the Vancouver Film School.
If Peter makes her happy, I’ll do my best to support their relationship. But I want no part of the mafia. After Dad died, we didn’t associate with the mafia that much. Not that Dad played a very active role in the mafia. He was just one of their bookkeepers and never took part in the violent side of things.
It’s Mom’s choice, though. Me on the other hand, I’m going to continue focusing on my studies, and once I graduate, I’ll pursue a career as a producer.
Like a deer waiting to be pounced on, I cautiously glance around the entrance hall with its impressive staircase and sparkling gold chandelier, wondering which way I should go. The last time I was here, I came with Mom. I think the dining room is to my right. Even though the lights are on, everything feels dark and foreboding.
The apprehensiveness is mainly because I dread meeting Nikolas in person. I might not have anything to do with the mafia, but I’ve heard Nikolas is brutal and merciless. Whenever his name’s brought up, it’s always in fear.
“Theresa, agápi mou.” Hearing Mom call me ‘my love,’ my head swivels to the left, and a relieved smile splits across my face. She looks beautiful in a mermaid dress that looks like it’s been spun from pure gold.
“Mamá,” I grin as I move closer for a hug. I press a soft kiss on her cheek. “Wow, you look gorgeous.” Standing back, I make a show of taking in the dress.
“Tonight’s important.” Her gaze sweeps over my off-shoulder, cream satin dress, and she brushes the styled strands away from my bare shoulder. “We match. Good.”
I already feel uncomfortable in the dress because I’m not the skinniest and have struggled with my weight all my life, so when Mom’s eyes lock on the slit that ends mid-thigh, and it looks like she’s going to disapprove, I start fidgeting.
Before she can make a remark, Peter comes down the sweeping stairs. “Theresa,” he smiles. “Welcome.”
I force a polite smile to my face. “Thank you, Mr. Stathoulis.”
“Soon, we’ll be family. Call me Peter.”
The front door opens, and I glance over my shoulder.
“Really, Nikolas? Look at the mess,” a woman scolds, then a beauty in her early thirties breezes into the house like a queen. She must be Athina, Peter’s daughter. She makes a beeline for Peter, a smile chasing the scowl from her face. “Mpampà mou, sorry we’re late.”
A man follows after Athina, chuckling, “Glad I’m not the one in the hot seat tonight.” I’m assuming he’s Basil, Athina’s husband. He has a friendly face that can easily set a person at ease.
“What happened?” Peter asks his daughter just as Nikolas walks into the house.
My eyes zoom in on the blood staining the sleeves of the formal white shirt he’s unbuttoning, exposing a chest I can only describe as holy freaking shit. Golden skin spans tightly over muscle that looks like it’s been carved from precious metal.
He’s the tallest in the room, with the magnificence of a fallen angel. A firm jaw covered in a dusting of dark bristles, high cheekbones, and sharp eyes – the color of sinful nights – rob me of the ability to breathe. I take in every way-too-handsome inch of him in a split second.
A grim expression darkens his features, giving me the impression of a vengeful God out for every drop of blood he can get his hands on.
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.
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.
