Page 26 of Slightly Married (Irresistible #2)

T he sitting room was in disarray. Irida sat crumpled in an armchair, her face buried in her hands as violent sobs shook her slender frame. My mother-in-law paced nearby, tears streaming down her face as she shouted in rapid Greek about justice and betrayal.

I kneeled beside Irida with Deanna, offering what comfort we could, though our words seemed to have no effect. In the corner, Aristides, Konstantin, and Dimitrios huddled in intense conversation.

Santo and Tia entered the room, confusion evident on their faces.

“Father?” Santo called out, drawing everyone’s attention. “What’s happened?”

Aristides crossed the room toward them, holding out a tablet with a grim expression. “Read this.”

I watched Santo’s face pale as he scanned the screen.

“What is it?” Tia asked, leaning closer to see.

Santo tilted the tablet so she could read the article. “Stavros was my father’s uncle,” he told Tia. “He died before I was born.”

News of Irida’s brother’s death being reclassified as homicide thirty years after the fact had thrown the family into upheaval. Andreas had discovered the article first, immediately forwarding it to Konstantin, who then shared the devastating revelation with everyone.

“It was that witch!” Irida cried out beside me, her face contorted in anguish. “Angela killed my brother!”

My mother-in-law nodded vigorously. “We always knew it. The American police wouldn’t listen.”

“Mother, please,” Konstantin interjected. “These are serious accusations with no evidence.”

“We lived the evidence!” My mother-in-law shouted, her small frame vibrating with rage. “Stavros was healthy as a bull, then he got the flu and died less than three months later!”

Irida collapsed into fresh sobs beside me, her hands trembling against mine as I tried to steady her. “She took him from us, then, to punish us further, sold Thalassía to Michail.”

Deanna rose from Irida’s side. “Irida, you should lie down.” She helped the distraught woman to her feet. “This can’t be good for your heart.”

Since showing up at the estate last week like some avenging mama bear ready to burn the place down—only to discover her daughter was actually safe and sound—Deanna’s been visiting Domna and Irida almost daily.

What’s even weirder was this elaborate pretend game she and Aristides kept playing, acting like complete strangers who met a week ago.

Neither Tia nor Santo had any clue about their parent’s prior relationship, and I’m certainly not dropping that bombshell.

Tia would find out when her mother decided.

And judging by the loaded glances Deanna and Aristides exchanged when they thought no one was watching, that time wasn’t coming anytime soon.

“Deanna’s right,” my mother-in-law agreed. “Come, Irida. We need to rest.”

“I’ll help,” I offered, supporting Irida’s other side. Her weight leaned heavily against me as her body continued to tremble with emotion.

“I’ll come too,” Tia said, squeezing Santo’s hand before releasing it to join us.

As we guided the elderly women from the room, I glanced back to catch Konstantin’s eye. Despite the seriousness of the moment, his gaze softened when it met mine before he turned back to his brothers.

We made our way through the corridor to Domna’s private suite, a procession of women supporting one another through this unexpected storm. Irida’s weight leaned heavily against Deanna and me, while Tia escorted Domna.

As we approached the threshold of Domna’s rooms, the polished tiled floors gave way to plush cream carpet. It was luxurious yet understated, much like my mother-in-law herself.

Her suite was a perfect reflection of her character. Her space blended elegance with touches of modernity.

Soft ivory walls provided the backdrop for vibrant contemporary art alongside antique silver frames holding family photographs. Fresh white lilies perfumed the air from crystal vases positioned throughout the room.

“The daybed, I think,” Domna directed, gesturing toward a comfortable chaise near the windows overlooking her private garden.

We guided Irida to the chaise, where she sank down with a heavy sigh. Her sobs had quieted to occasional shuddering breaths, but the devastation remained etched across her features.

“I’ll make tea,” Tia offered, her quiet voice breaking the silence.

Domna nodded gratefully. “The electric kettle is on the sideboard. Chamomile with honey for Irida, please.”

While Tia busied herself with the tea, Deanna moved to the windows, adjusting the curtains to let in the perfect balance of afternoon light.

“This article is about as clear as mud,” I said, scrolling through my phone with a frown.

“They’ve reopened the case and are calling it a homicide, but there’s literally zero explanation about why after thirty years.

Did someone confess? Find new evidence? Have a psychic vision?

” I waved my hand in frustration. “Give me something to work with here, people!”

Irida’s eyes flashed with a vindication I’d never seen before. “I don’t care what it is! For three decades we’ve been dismissed as hysterical Greeks who couldn’t accept a natural death. Now, justice would be served.”

“Stavros had two sons, right?” Tia asked, carefully placing porcelain cups on saucers.

“Yes,” Domna nodded, her fingers tracing the embroidery on her linen napkin. “Nolan and Leon.”

“Wait, Nolan Christakis?” I perked up, making the connection. “I think my sister graduated high school with him!”

An idea sparked, and before I could filter it, I blurted out, “We should go to New York! Show up in person and make some noise. Nothing gets results like being physically present.”

“Absolutely right,” Deanna chimed in. “I watch enough true crime shows to know the police need constant pressure. Otherwise, your case collects dust while they move on to the next tragedy and the next and the next.”

I expected Irida to shoot down my suggestion, but to my complete shock, she nodded. “It’s a good idea,” she said, looking directly at me.

Had the temperature in hell just dropped below freezing?

“Thank you, Kayla,” she continued. “Your compassion and support mean a great deal. I know I haven’t been...” she paused, searching for words, “...welcoming. But your kindness hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

My eyebrows practically hit my hairline. I wished I had my phone ready to record this moment for posterity. Or at least to prove to K later that it actually happened.

“Very well!” Domna declared, clapping her hands. “We are in agreement. I’ll have Aris prepare the jet while we begin packing.”

I stood up, ready to hunt down K and break our travel news, when my stomach lurched violently. Oh no. Not now.

“Excuse me,” I managed to squeak before bolting for the guest bathroom in the hallway, barely making it to the toilet before emptying my stomach. So much for the crackers I’d been snacking on all morning.

I rinsed my mouth and splashed cool water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “Morning sickness is the biggest scam in pregnancy marketing,” I muttered to my reflection. “Try all-day, random-attack, surprise-here’s-vomit sickness.”

The bathroom smelled of lemon-verbena potpourri, which thankfully didn’t trigger another wave of nausea. I dabbed my face dry with one of the monogrammed hand towels, silently praying I wouldn’t be one of those women who hugged toilets for nine straight months.

As I made my way back to our bedroom to start packing, anticipation tingled through my body despite my queasy stomach. Going to New York wouldn’t just mean supporting my new family through this bizarre murder investigation. It meant seeing Daddy, Simone and dragging Lauren out for mocktails.

The door opened behind me, and I spun around with a grin. “K! Perfect timing. I need your opinion on how many shoes constitute excessive for a trip of undetermined length—”

The smile froze on my face when I caught his expression.

“Whoa. Who died?” I blurted, then immediately winced. “Sorry, bad choice of words considering everything. What happened? Did the stock market crash? Did Santo wreck another car? Did Dimitrios finally admit where he hides for months at a time?”

“Tia just ended her engagement with Santo,” he said. “She’s leaving Greece.”

My mouth dropped open so fast I practically dislocated my jaw.

“I’m sorry, what? She did WHAT?” I grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

“That’s impossible. We were literally just having tea together like twenty minutes ago, and she was fine!

Well, as fine as anyone can be discussing a thirty-year-old murder, but still! ”

“She and Santo had an argument. I don’t know all the details, but—” He hesitated, then straightened his shoulders. “We need to talk about Matthaios.”

“Matthaios?” I frowned, my brain struggling to make the connection between Tia leaving and K’s mysterious cousin who I’d never met. “What does he have to do with—”

My stomach lurched again, but this time it wasn’t excitement. I clapped my hand over my mouth and made a desperate dash toward our en-suite bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before another round of violent retching began.

“Kayla!” K was behind me in an instant, his large hand gathering my braids away from my face while his other hand steadied my shoulder.

I heaved until there was nothing left but painful dry spasms, bringing tears to my eyes. Through it all, K remained with me.

When the worst passed, he wordlessly handed me a cool, damp washcloth. I pressed it against my face. It felt heavenly against my clammy skin.

“This baby hates me,” I groaned, leaning back against K’s chest. “What did I ever do to deserve this kind of treatment? I’m literally growing you rent-free, little one. Show some respect.”

K’s chuckle rumbled through his chest against my back. He reached around me to flush the toilet, then helped me to my feet with gentle but firm hands.