Epilogue
Calli Kastaris
Istretch out on the sun-warmed terrace, the Roman sun warming my skin. My silk robe gapes open over one tanned thigh. My body still carries the sweet ache of last night, proof that some sins are worth committing.
The espresso in my hand is already going lukewarm, but I'm too content to care. Inside the suite, the shower runs, and I catch the faint sound of humming. I smile. It’s the same song we danced to last night at that little café nightclub.
He gets out of the shower, and I watch him in the reflection of the patio door. I see the way the muscles in his back flex as he brushes his wet hair out of his face and the way the towel rides so low on his hips it's practically an invitation.
My phone buzzes on the little table next to me. The screen lights up with Dimitri's name.
Of course.
"Persistent," I say, picking it up and rolling my eyes.
I don't need to answer. I'm relieved he's safe, but I already told my brothers I was at a woman’s self-defense kickboxing retreat.
Technically, that's not even a total lie.
I did pay for it, and I even packed my gloves.
I just haven't unpacked them and decided to skip the entire thing completely.
I silence the call and set my phone face down.
If they ever knew how many weekends I've invented girls’ trips and spa retreats for, I'd be locked in a tower until I'm forty. They would have an absolute fit if they knew I was here with someone instead.
My brothers still think I'm their little sister who needs protecting, not a woman who makes her own choices. Especially not choices that involve sneaking away for romantic weekends with a man they've never met and probably wouldn't approve of.
A minute later, my phone buzzes again.
I sigh dramatically and lift the phone to my ear.
I slide my finger across the screen. "Yes, brother dearest?" I say, using my sweetest tone.
"Come home."
I blink. That's it? No hey baby sister, how's the retreat? How's your sparring? Win any matches?
"Wow. Hi to you too. Glad you're home."
"Calli."
Just my name. Firm. Serious.
I glance toward the bathroom, remembering how he had surprised me with tickets to the opera tonight. Said he'd packed my favorite black dress, the one I'd accidentally left at his place last month.
"It's important," Dimitri says.
I force a laugh. "That serious? You do realize I'm at my retreat thing, right?"
"It's serious," he snaps, and I sit up. My brothers normally don't talk to me like that.
"We found out who's behind everything. Who killed our father."
All the warmth drains out of me. The sunshine, the espresso, the playful thrill of being somewhere I shouldn't be, gone.
I stand up, my robe almost slipping off my naked body, so I tighten it with trembling hands.
"Who?"
The line goes quiet, and I check my phone to make sure we're still connected.
"Who, Dimitri?"
"Stavros fucking Petrou."
The world stops. My lungs forget how to work. I sink back into my chair, suddenly unable to stand.
A wave of nausea washes over me.
"Calli?" Dimitri's voice sharpens. "Did you hear me?"
I swallow hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. "Yeah."
"Get on a flight. Come home."
"There's more. A lot more. We'll speak when you're here, but Stavros and his fucking son, Niko, are dead. I'm going to do it personally."
My gaze snaps to the patio door just as a drawer slams shut in our bedroom.
"Okay," I say. "I'll... I'll go to the airport now."
"Send me your flight details. I'll send a car. Travel safely, sister," Dimitri says and hangs up without another word.
My hand shakes as I set the phone down. I stare at it, trying to process what just happened, what Dimitri just said.
The glass door slides open, and he steps out onto the terrace, his dark hair still damp from the shower. Any other morning, I would have pulled him down beside me, unwrapped my robe, and lost myself in him again.
"Hey, beautiful," his voice is warm and familiar. "What do you think about skipping the museum today and just staying in bed?"
His eyes narrow as he studies my face. "What is it? I can tell something's wrong."
I force the worst smile I've ever attempted. My lips won't cooperate. Nothing will.
"I, uh, have to go," I say, my voice quiet.
"What?" he asks, surprised. "We still have three days."
I stand, trying to keep my composure. "Yes. A family emergency," I say. "I need to get back."
He doesn't move, his expression unreadable as he watches me. There's something in his stillness that reminds me of Dimitri when he's assessing a threat, and the similarity makes my stomach turn.
"Just like that? What about the opera tonight? I thought you were excited about it."
"I know. I'm sorry," I pause. "I just need to pack," I say, moving past him, careful not to let our bodies touch.
I feel his eyes on me as I change and start to gather my things, shoving clothes haphazardly into my suitcase. Four days of heaven about to end in hell. My fingers catch on the black lace nightgown he bought me yesterday. I stuff it under a sweater, out of sight.
"Let me help you," he says softly, picking up my clothes from the chair where I'd tossed them last night in our hurry.
His fingers brush against mine as he hands them to me, and for a moment, I let myself remember how this all started when he showed up in Ireland. How I'd never laughed so much with anyone before.
"Will you tell me what's really going on?" he asks. "I've never seen you like this."
I pause, clutching my toiletry bag, everything in me wanting to talk about it.
"I can't," I say, not turning around. "I just have to go."
Then his footsteps cross the room, and I feel his heat at my back, his hands gentle on my shoulders as he turns me to face him.
"Callista."
Dammit, no one says my name like he does, like it's something precious. I make the mistake of looking up into his eyes.
"I've never seen you like this," he says. "Not even when you almost missed your flight to Chicago and thought your brothers would figure everything out."
"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do," I say, lying.
His thumb traces my lower lip, a familiar gesture that usually makes me melt. "I disagree. We've been together long enough to know when something's really wrong."
I step back, breaking contact. "I have to go."
"It's your family, right? So what did they say to you?"
"Does it matter?"
"It might," he says. "I fucking..." He pauses. "I fucking love you, Calli."
"What?" I stop packing and look at him.
"Yeah, I, uh..." He stops and rubs his forehead. "I was going to tell you tonight at dinner before the opera, but since you're ditching me."
My throat closes. I almost tell him everything right then. The call from Dimitri, the threats, the truth, but the words won't come.
Instead, I want to throw up and scream at the same time.
I just stare at him, taking him in properly, memorizing the lines of his face, the shape of his mouth, knowing this is the last time I'll allow myself this pleasure.
"I'm sorry, Niko. This won't work. Goodbye," I say, the word final as a coffin lid closing.
I grab my suitcase and walk to the door. My heart hammers against my ribs, my thoughts breaking me like glass, and I feel tears about to fall at any moment.
"Calli, wait," Niko says, but I don't stop. I can't.
I open the door and walk to the elevator. Once I'm inside, my suitcase drops and I start crying.
Why have I been cursed?
To love the son of the man who destroyed my family.
And the worst part? I planned on telling him something at dinner tonight, too.
I shake my head and look up, tears sliding down my face.
Not only was I in love with Niko Petrou, but I was pregnant with his baby.
One deadly secret. One final betrayal.
A mafia princess.
A forbidden lover.
A secret that could burn both empires to the ground.
Calli Kastaris thought she could keep her heart separate from her family's war.
But now she's carrying the child of the man her brothers have vowed to destroy.
Don't miss the explosive final chapter in The Kastaris Greek Mafia Series.
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