Mom’s stalking up and down in the living room while Peter sits like a king on his throne, bushy eyebrows drawn in a tight pinch.
My knee bounces nervously, my hands in tight fists on my lap.
The moment Nikolas walks into the living room with Christos and another man right behind him, I struggle not to dart up and lay into him.
“What’s–”
Peter holds up a hand, silencing Mom. Rising from the chair, he looks at his son. “Explain why you arranged a marriage between Christos and Theresa.”
Nikolas meets his father’s gaze with zero fear. Right now, the current head of the Greek mafia is facing off with the retired Godfather.
My stomach sinks into my shoes.
“The deal has been made.” Nikolas’ voice is grim, leaving no space for argument. “Christos will be good to Theresa.” His eyes snap to me. “She should be thankful. I could’ve chosen a much worse suitor for her.”
The… asshole.
“Why the sudden rush?” Mom asks, a hand on her neck and confusion whirling on her face.
Nikolas takes a deep breath like he’s struggling to hold onto his meager patience. Turning his attention to our parents, his voice is tense as hell as he explains, “Gregory’s been killed. The Sicilians declared war. If Theresa goes to Greece, she’ll be out of harm’s way.”
Peter’s features go slack, and when Mom opens her mouth to say something, he snaps, “Nikolas’ word is final. Theresa will marry Christos this coming Saturday.”
What?
I dart to my feet, but I’m pinned to the spot by way too many dark eyes burning on me. It’s Peter who says, “This is what’s best for you, Theresa. You’re of marrying age.”
I shake my head, and before I can argue, Peter leaves the living room. Nikolas and the other man follow after Peter, but Christos stays behind.
“Mamá?” I can’t bring myself to say more, the walls of my world closing in on me.
With a hand fluttering over her hair, Mom gives me an encouraging look. “Let’s not be rude.” She gestures for Christos to sit.
“I know this is sudden,” Christos says. His eyes settle on me, and no matter how hard I look, I can’t find any sign of anger or harshness. On the contrary, his gaze is warm, understanding even.
I shake my head, slumping back in the chair.
This is really happening. God.
“Theresa,” Christos says as he comes to take a seat next to me. “I’ll give you time to get used to the idea, and you’ll still be able to live your own life. I don’t expect you to change for me, but to at least try to make the marriage work.”
He sounds so reasonable, I almost laugh.
Understanding shines from his eyes, and it makes tears well in my throat.
Lifting a hand, he gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll do my best to be a good husband.”
Oh, God.
Breathe.
I suck in desperate breaths, overwhelmed by everything that’s happening but also how gentle Christos is.
“My studies,” I manage to squeeze out.
“You can complete them before joining me in Greece. Like I said, I want you to live your own life. You can still become a producer. We’ll come to Vancouver often, and your Mom can visit us in Greece.”
My eyes lock with Christos. “I don’t know you.”
A smile curves his lips. “You’ll get to know me.” He’s in total contrast to Nikolas. Where Nikolas is all anger, brimstone, and sharp edges, Christos is soft, almost like a teddy bear, his words kind, his eyes warm.
Still, I don’t know this man, and there’s no attraction.
Christos takes hold of my hand, his warmth chasing some of the chill from mine. “All I ask is that you give me the same respect I give you. Successful marriages have been built on less.”
Like any other woman, I want to marry the man of my choosing. I don’t want a marriage of convenience or one I’m forced into against my will.
Mom wipes a tear from her cheek, and she actually looks emotional and impressed by Christos.
Knowing he just won my mother over with a couple of words, my shoulders sag, and all the fight drains from me.
I’m pulled into a hug, and it takes strength I didn’t know I had to keep from ugly crying on my future husband’s shoulder.
May Karma take revenge on Nikolas for me.
I’ve thrown myself completely into my studies because my life’s become nothing more than a whirlwind of madness. I don’t even have the energy to try and clear things up with Jake, who’s been sulking like a two-year-old and being downright rude to me since I canceled the so-called date with him.
Every day, I’m bombarded with pictures of dresses, flowers, and cakes from Mom and Athina.
I’m due for a fitting later this afternoon, which I’m dreading to my very core.
I still can’t believe this is happening. It’s too fast, not even giving me time to process anything.
Right now, I’m dead set on saying no at the damn altar. No one can force me to marry Christos.
Guilt sneaks into my chest like a thief in the night because Christos has been nothing short of kind. He took me to dinner, so we could talk about things and get to know each other.
He’s a nice person. I should count my blessings.
But…
I don’t love him, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.
One thing I’m sure of? I hate Nikolas with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. May he rot in hell.
“Whoa, who stepped on your toes?” Annette asks when I shove my laptop into my bag. “It looks like you want to kill someone.”
Letting out an emotionally exhausted sigh, I shrug the backpack onto my shoulder. “Family problems. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Without waiting for Annette or Jake to reply, I walk out of the studio and make my way down the hallway. A girl is flirting with James, but he cuts it short the second he lays eyes on me. Falling into step next to me, he takes my backpack.
Grant, Arthur, and Michael follow behind us.
Since the big fight with Nikolas in full view of my guards, James has been nice to me. At least there’s that.
“I have to go for a dress fitting,” I mention to him.
“I’m aware.” We continue to walk toward my apartment, then he says, “Christos is a good man.”
“So I’ve been told,” I mutter.
“Did you hope to marry a man you love?” he asks, his tone not mocking me like Grant’s would.
“I just…” I sigh and lift my eyes to James, taking in his ruffled brown hair and boyish good looks. “I wanted it to be my choice.”
He nods and lets out an understanding sigh.
Curiosity gets the better of me. “Why are you in the mafia?”
“I was born into it.” His answer is short and to the point.
“You didn’t have other dreams for yourself?” I ask as we approach my apartment building.
“Dreams don’t keep you alive in our world.” Like the past couple of days, the other guards wait by the SUV while James walks me up to search my apartment.
When he’s happy there are no threats, he gives me a smile. “See you downstairs at four.”
He shuts the front door behind him. I unpack my bag on the table, and when I see more messages from Athina regarding wedding décor, I feel like screaming.
Walking into my bedroom, I fall across the bed and bury my face in the covers, and like the days before, I have a good scream before crying, ridding myself of some of the frustration, anger, and hurt.
Hurt because, even though I hate Nikolas, he still managed to rip my heart out of my chest.
Before he showed me the real monster lurking beneath his skin, I thought there was a possibility he could actually have a beating heart in his chest. He was possessive and protective of me. He made it feel like he was worshipping my body while giving me pleasure I never knew existed.
He made me hope things could change, only to throw me to the dogs.
Not that Christos is a dog.
Ugh.
Pushing up from the bed, I feel drained of my will to live as I get ready for the fitting.
