Page 33 of Climbing Everest
Everest
“ A bsolutely not,” Kato says, crossing his arms over his chest.
I mimic his position, pushing from his office door and glaring at him as he sits behind his big ass desk. It isn’t the same one I saw in here when we were kids and the families still had meetings periodically without bloodshed.
“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way, K.”
“No. We’re doing it our way, E. And that sure as fuck doesn’t include you going out in public where anyone can see you and report back to your father before it’s time.”
“You might have hired that lady for the wedding planning, but there’s a lot more that goes into an engagement party. At least one like I’m planning.”
I smirk at him.
He simply stares back at me.
After a few seconds, he tilts his head, and a slow smile stretches across his face. “I already had one planned. What did you do?”
I finally drop my arms from across my chest and shrug. “Nothing. Yet. But I think we need to up the ante. That’s all.”
He sucks his teeth and studies me, his gaze roaming me from head to toe and back up again.
It has been three days since Flora came over, learned I was not only back in town but hadn’t run off willingly, and that I was officially marrying Kato and in those three days, very little planning has gone into the engagement gala I envision for my reintroduction to Cedar Springs.
Kato turns his chair and jerks his head for me to come closer. A wry smile quirks up my mouth as I cross the room.
“When did you get so bossy?” I ask as I lower onto one of his thighs and throw my legs over the other.
“Since I took over as Don. Now, tell me your ideas and let’s see how I can make your vision come true without you going into public and getting killed. Wouldn’t want to have to destroy the entirety of Cedar Springs because you wanted to go on a shopping spree with your girlfriend.”
“You could always send some of your big, bad guards with us,” I offer, batting my lashes in an effort to appeal to his softer side.
“My guards can’t make you invisible. Tell me what you need, and I’ll have people I trust and have vetted come here,” he says, wrapping his arms tightly around me and burying his face in my neck. “Fuck, you smell good,” he mutters against my shoulder.
A shiver runs down my spine at the feeling of his lips grazing my skin and his breath warming me.
"I want to invite as many people as possible. So whatever you had planned…it has to be bigger. Flashier. More public.”
He pulls back and frowns at me.
“I want as many eyes on me as possible. I want photographers, the press, local and world recognized celebrities, and as many made men as you can get to agree to attend without starting a full out war.”
It takes him a second, but I see the moment my reason dawns on him, and a wide smile stretches across his handsome face.
“You want to make a different kind of spectacle.”
“Yep, and I want to make sure my father is as close to the stage as possible when I’m introduced and appear. I want cameras on him. I want reporters to interview him, ask him how he feels about his daughter marrying into the Antoniou family.”
He huffs a sound. “You’re diabolical, and a little nutty. This…your whole plan could be extremely risky.”
“Oh, please. You really think anyone will start shit with the press there? No one will want their names or faces attached to anything illegal. Make sure there’s someone at the door checking for weapons. Discreetly, of course.”
It’s no secret the Antoniou and Sidorov families are in organized crime, but no reason to put that shit directly in everyone’s faces.
It’s hard enough to keep the cops and judges from going after everyone.
Takes a lot of money, a lot of bribing and blackmailing to keep the authorities from paying too much attention to all of us.
He leans against the chairback and stares at me, his gaze bouncing between my eyes. “You sure about this?”
“It was your idea.”
“That was when I thought…”
When he thought I was evil and intentionally hurt them before running off to marry some Russian asshole.
“Well, nothing has changed. We’re still getting married…aren’t we?”
“Fuck yeah, we are. You’re already my wife. I’m ready to make it legal.”
“You mean you’re ready to make it public,” I say teasingly, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose before pushing off his lap.
But he hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me right back down. “I don’t remember saying we were done talking.”
“And I don’t remember asking you.”
“Mr. Antoniou?” Ms. Galanos says from the open door of the office.
This is the first time I’ve seen her since I was carried unconscious through the door.
“Oh my gosh!” I blurt out, wiggling out of Kato’s arms and making a beeline for the older housekeeper. “Ms. Galanos!”
The housekeeper’s brows lower in confusion and she takes a step back, making the sign of the cross over herself. “Everest Sidorova? What are you doing here? Does your husband know where you are?” she asks in her thick Greek accent.
I don’t answer her, instead, I launch myself at her and wrap my arms around her shoulders.
She doesn’t hug me back.
“I didn’t get married. I was never married,” I say, pulling away while holding both her hands in mine.
Ms. Galanos always snuck us treats when we were little and bored out of our minds when the adults had parties or meetings. She was always so sweet and kind.
She’d appeared old to me then, but now I realize she’s maybe middle-aged. Amazing how our brains work when we’re children.
“What…how…Mr. Antoniou, there’s someone here to speak with you,” she says, turning her attention to Kato when it’s obvious she can’t complete her thoughts or questions.
“Who?” Kato asks, pushing to his feet and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his chair.
Something I’ve never understood is why these made men always insist on wearing suits, even while at home. I get wearing them when out on the town, or at business meetings. But I would rather be comfortable than all professional looking any day.
Case in point – since the guys no longer insist they choose what I wear each day, I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and an oversized sweater for the day. The air is getting crisp, and I swear my men are part polar bear with as chilly as they keep the house.
Though the chilly air is a total bonus at night when we all try to cram in bed together.
I attempt to follow Kato and Ms. Galanos, but he turns and puts out a hand. “Nope. Go to your room, or downstairs. Or anywhere you won’t be seen.”
“Excuse me?” I blurt, slapping my hands on my hips.
He closes the small space between us and cups my face.
“Number one – stop being a fucking brat or I’ll put you over my knee and pinken that round little ass,” he whispers before pressing a deceivingly soft kiss to my lips.
My mind has turned to mush from his words so I just nod.
“And two – we don’t know who’s at the door.
No one knows you’re here yet, and I want to keep it that way. We control the narrative. No one else.”
Again, I nod silently, my lips parted and my breath coming in short pants. I don’t know why his whispered threat turns me on so bad, but now I’m tempted to push him to see how far he would take the punishment thing.
“We’re leaving anyway,” Brix’s deep voice says from behind me and I jump with a squeak.
My giant lover is smirking down at me when I turn and crane my neck to look into his face. “Where are we going?”
His eyes drop to my chest and that smirk turns into a mischievous smile. “Gotta get that tattoo finished, and maybe we’ll take Nico’s suggestion and get those pretty little nipples pierced.”
“Absolutely not,” Kato says, buttoning his jacket.
“How the fuck do you think you get to decide?” Brix challenges, lifting his chin and looking down his nose at Kato.
One thing about Kato? The size of his opponent has never intimidated him. Doesn’t hurt that the current opponent is his brother.
“Since I want to play with those nipples, and she’ll need time to heal if you get them pierced.”
My head turns back and forth as the two discuss me and my body as though I’m not standing right here and don’t have a say in what happens to it.
After a few heartbeats, Brixton nods. “Good point. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”
“Wait. I wanted to plan the engagement party,” I say, finally getting my bearings and finding my voice after Kato’s whispered promises and Brixton’s heated look and mention of having my nipples pierced.
Brix frowns up at Kato. “She expecting someone?”
“ She’s right here, and I was going to meet with Flora so we could check out other locations, bigger ones, and maybe shop for a few other necessities.”
“I told her she’s not leaving the house yet,” Kato tells Brix, once again excluding me.
“Hey. He’s taking me out of the house. This is my second visit to the parlor.”
“Nico’s an artist Brix trusts,” Kato says. He’s an artist Brixton fucked . But I don’t bother saying that part out loud.
“And my windows are tinted so no one can see you and we go in and out the back door. The only person who’s aware you’re there is Nico.”
“But the party is in, what, two weeks?”
“The wedding planner can help plan the engagement party, too,” Kato says.
Whoever is at the door apparently doesn’t matter to him, considering he’s still standing here arguing with me.
“Fine,” I finally say. “Can you at least have her meet with me tonight? Or first thing tomorrow?”
Kato’s eyes narrow. “How do you know what I planned isn’t elaborate?”
“I’m sure it is, but I want it…I want to make my father look like an absolute fool. If he told the entire town I ran off to marry someone, he’ll look like a total liar or like he doesn’t know shit if we suddenly announce our wedding.”
“My sweet, evil princess,” Kato says, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I remind him, “You’re still in the doghouse, but keep saying shit like that and I might let it go.”
He smacks my ass when I turn to follow Brix to the garage to get my tattoo finished, or at least filled in more. Wearing something like I have planned for our engagement party will look tacky if the design is nothing more than the outline with zero shading or colors.
Turning to gape at Kato over my shoulder, I roll my eyes when I catch him watching my ass sway instead of tending to whoever the hell showed up at the door unannounced.
They must not be a threat if the guards let them through the gate, and my soon-to-be husband is more than capable of taking care of himself.
I have more pressing things to worry about, like the fact that a fucking tattoo needle is about to buzz against my skin for hours on end again.
It hurt like a bitch when Nico did the outline; I’ve done some research since and discovered the filling stage isn’t as painful, so at least I have that going for me.
“Would Nico judge me if I took something to knock me out before he starts carving up my chest again?” I ask as Brix hoists me into his big truck.
Unlike the first time, he’s gentle as he grips my hips and raises me onto the passenger seat, stepping between my knees and cupping the back of my head as his beautiful, warm brown eyes trace over my face.
“Thought you said you’ve experienced more painful things than a tattoo?” he teases.
What he doesn’t understand is the memories that come with that tease, but I force a tight smile on my face and shrug. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t mean I enjoy any of it.”
His brows twitch together a little and he looks so deeply into my eyes I wonder if he’s trying to look into my soul.
“What just happened?” he asks.
I tighten my smile even more, but I know it’s not reaching my eyes and I’ve never been able to hide shit from Brix.
“Nothing. Just nervous about the tattoo,” I lie in hopes he’ll drop it.
I really don’t want to sit in the garage and have yet another heart to heart when we’re barely getting our feet back on the ground as a couple…a throuple…
What the hell is it called when there are four people involved, but only one receiver of the attention of the other three?
“You’re still a shit liar,” he says before pulling away and swinging my door shut. And if I’m not mistaken, he seems pissed that I won’t tell him what’s on my mind.
It has nothing to do with him or not wanting to talk to him specifically, I just don’t feel like rehashing the past four years, period. With anyone. Ever again.
If I have my way, I’ll find any and every way possible to forget that time gap ever existed.
“Can we just… not today?” I ask when he gets behind the wheel and turns the engine over.
“Not what?”
“Not get all shitty when I don’t answer the way you want. Not fight over stupid shit. Can we just…pretend we’re normal?”
He huffs what almost sounds like a laugh but never so much as cracks the smallest smile.
“Yep. We can pretend we’re normal.” I don’t like the way he repeats my words back to me, the way he emphasizes the word pretend.
And I have a sneaky suspicion the next few hours aren’t going to go much more smoothly than they did the last time I was dragged to sit in Nico’s chair.