Page 64 of Betraying Family Vows

"Make them want you before they forget you," she used to tell me over and over.

But Cosmo forgot her anyway, and me too, probably. And now I'm standing in the shower of both his killer and his executioner for what he'd done.

I press my forehead against the tile and let the sobs rack my body, released at last into the rushing water where no one can hear them. Where Dimitri can't see this weakness.

By the time I shut off the water, my eyes are swollen, but my chest feels lighter. I wrap myself in a thick towel and step back into the bedroom.

On the bed lies a pile of clothes, two different colored leggings, a few shirts, a soft gray sweater, and a few pairs of underwear with the tags still on. Beside them is a laptop and a manila folder stuffed with papers.

I dress quickly, picking the black leggings and a white V-neck shirt. The clothes fit well enough. Calli must be close to my size; I'm just a bit taller.

I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the folder toward me. Inside are financial statements, contract drafts, and what looks like coded correspondence, all bearing my father's familiar signature. I lift the computer, running my fingers over the keyboard.

His hands touched these keys. Strange, how little that means to me now.

I press the power button and it turns on.

Alright. Let's see what I can find. Discover what she never could, how wrong she was about him, about everything.

21

DIMITRI

The clothes are the first thing I grab.

Calli's closet is three rooms down from the guest wing, still untouched. I rifle through her dresser, trying to find some things that will fit Athena. My sister's not here to complain, and even if she was, she'd understand. Eventually.

I don't even think she's been here in the past two years anyhow.

Once I grab a few things, I head back downstairs to the office. Cosmo's stuff is locked in a cabinet in the far corner of the room.

I never planned in a million years on showing this to anyone outside the family, let alone Cosmo's estranged daughter. But she's earned it, and there's bigger things here, and maybe she can, in fact, help.

I carry everything down the hall and push open the bedroom door.

The sound of the shower running in the guest bathroom fills my ears. I push away the image of water sliding down Athena's curves, of steam rising from her skin.

For a moment, I consider walking in. Following the pull between us. Pressing her wet body against the tile and fucking her.

But something stops me.

That's not what this is about. Not right now. Because for the first time in days, she's not in survival mode. She's safe. And alone. And maybe she needs that more than she needs me.

I place the clothes on the bed beside the computer and files, then shut the door quietly behind me.

In my own bathroom, I strip off clothes stiff with dried blood and sweat. I glance over myself in the mirror. I observe all the fresh cuts and bruises.

Jesus, it's like I enjoy collecting scars.

I step under the water, letting out a hiss as it hits my wounds. I brace my hands against the wall, head hanging down.

Bringing Athena here wasn't part of any plan. This isn't some random safe house. It's a family home. The place where I grew up. Where my mother used to sing while cooking Sunday dinner. Where my father taught me to play chess by the fireplace before he grew too obsessed with power and turning me into the family enforcer.

I've never brought a woman here. Not a girlfriend. Not a one-night stand. No one.

But Athena.

I try not to think about what that means.