Page 10 of Beyond Enemy Vows

I don't reply. I just step out into the rain and hurry to the cottage, fumbling with my key. I can feel his eyes on me, watching. I don't look back until I'm inside, door shut firmly behind me.

Through the window, I can see the outline of his car, still idling in the dark. I lean against the door, heart beating in my chest, clothes wet and cold against my skin.

But on the inside, I'm burning up.

I need to text Keira.

And maybe ask her what the hell I'm doing.

Because whatever this is, it's not going away.

3

NIKO

My father, the great Stavros Petrou, doesn't acknowledge me. Hasn't for the past ten minutes. He scrolls through some reports on his tablet, occasionally making notes. The glow of his desk lamp gives him the appearance of a man touched by divinity rather than what he truly is, an aging predator with teeth still sharp enough to tear his enemies apart.

I clear my throat. Not out of nervousness, but timing. You learn to count the seconds with my father. Interrupt too soon, you're impatient. Too late, you're wasting his time.

"I was thinking of flying to Chicago next week. For the Kastaris thing," I say.

Silence.

He keeps scrolling.

"For Vasilis. It's a birthday remembrance thing. We should attend."

"No."

I lean forward in my chair. "It would be seen as a sign of respect."

"Vasilis is dead," he says flatly, marking something on his tablet. "And dead men don't negotiate."

I flex my jaw and wait. I've learned not to challenge him too fast. It never ends well. He's the kind of man who considers kindness a disease and respect a weakness.

Still, I press. "It would be a show of loyalty. We sat at that man's table for years. You did business with him. We're friends. The family has always?—"

"The family," Stavros cuts in, finally looking up, "has always been a collection of overblown reputations and mediocre tactics dressed up in expensive suits." He sets his tablet down. "I gave them your cousin, Katerina. I held the ports when they needed. Done their bidding when necessary. We're all just tolerable temporary allies anyhow. Do you really think Ares Kastaris wants to see us there?"

I keep my face neutral. "We had a long-standing relationship with them."

"We had business with them," he corrects sharply. "The kind that shifts with markets and opportunities." He leans back. "You still think like a child playing at being a man."

I feel the first crack in my composure but seal it immediately.

"All the more reason to maintain connections," I say. "The Kastaris territory is worth?—"

"Worth what?" Stavros stands now, walking around the desk, and I stand. He's shorter than me by two inches, but he still manages to look down on me. A skill he's perfected. "You thinkif you show up in your nice suit and smile at their family, they'll what? Offer you a seat at the table? Give you a discount on product routes? I gave them Katerina and they didn't offer shit."

He shakes his head and walks over to a box of cigars.

"This is why I worry about your readiness, Nikolaos. You mistake sentimentality for strategy. If Vasilis were alive, he'd respect a man who knows business is business." He stops to light a cigar and takes a large puff. "But he'd laugh at a boy who confuses manners with power."

I stand stiff, but inside, I'm on fire.

This isn't new. This pattern of suggesting things we should do and receiving contempt instead is as familiar as breathing. He doesn't yell. That would imply I mattered. He just cuts the air thinner until I can't breathe.

"Well, I haven't seen them in some time. So I think I'll attend."