Chapter 14 Niko
NIKO
The text arrives like a death sentence.
My office. Now.
Forty minutes later, my driver pulls through the gates of my father's estate. I've been trying to stay away, but I knew I'd end up here eventually. Reality always comes calling.
I've enjoyed my life lately, chasing something real with Calli—something that makes me forget who I am, who my family is. Something that lets me breathe.
But of course it's as if my father senses it and calls for me.
I step out of the car, looking at the house. It's all stone and glass. I spent my childhood learning to fear those walls, to anticipate the judgment waiting inside. Nothing's changed.
I straighten my tie. A habit. As if looking perfect will somehow make his disapproval less cutting.
The air inside is stale with cigar smoke and expensive cologne. Helena, his housekeeper, gives me a sympathetic look as I pass. She knows what waits for me in that office.
I don't bother knocking. I never do.
It's a power move he taught me himself—never announce yourself if you want to catch someone off guard.
He responds with the same, not looking up or addressing me as I walk in.
Stavros sits behind his large desk, sipping a whiskey.
"Nice of you to remember you work for this family," he says, voice dripping with disdain.
Still hasn't looked up.
"I got your message."
"Clearly." He takes a sip of his drink and finally looks up at me. "Sit."
I remain standing. Another power move. "I prefer to stand."
His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, more like he's suppressing the urge to snarl.
"Always trying to act like the rebel," he says, taking a drag of his cigar.
"Where the hell have you been these past weeks?
Sending people in your place to meetings.
Pickups. Not doing anything of fucking value to this family. "
"I've been working."
"Working," he repeats, mocking me. "You've been unreachable," he snaps, standing from his chair. "Do you think that makes you a man? Shirking duties like a spoiled brat?"
I don't respond. I'm used to this. Used to the disappointment that laces every word from him.
"You missed the negotiations with the Andros. You missed the security review for Athens. You missed our meeting with the Minister of Finance."
"I was handling something."
He rounds the desk. "You were off fucking some whore, I'm sure."
Rage rises in my chest. I clench my fists behind my back.
"You disappear and show up smelling like perfume." He steps closer, sniffing, his face twisting. "Weakness. That's all I see in you."
That word. Weakness. His favorite accusation since I was old enough to walk.
A memory flashes, unwanted. I'm six years old, proud of a drawing I made, running to show him. My small hands trembling as I hold up the paper. His face, disgusted, as if I'd tracked mud onto his imported rugs.
"Put that away," he'd said, not even looking at it. "Real men don't draw. You weren't born to draw. The sooner you learn that, the better."
"Like I said, I've been handling something."
He waves his hand in my face. Another power move of his.
"I didn't call you here to listen to excuses," he continues. "I called you here because someone informed me of something very interesting." He pauses to puff his cigar. "Imagine my surprise when I learned Callista Kastaris was seen stepping off our private jet. My jet."
I don't flinch, but I want to. I keep my expression blank, but my heart hammers against my ribs. For a moment, I can't breathe, can't think. How did he know? Who told him?
His eyes narrow, reading me like a vulture watching for weakness.
"Tell me," he says, leaning in close enough that I can smell the whiskey on his breath. "Are you fucking her?"
The question ignites something inside me.
Rage, protectiveness, guilt—all of it swirling together until my vision blurs at the edges.
I want to grab him by the throat, slam him into the ground, make him say her name with respect.
But I don't move. Don't blink. Don't give him anything. I just flex my jaw.
Stavros smiles, circling me.
"That little mafia princess?" He clicks his tongue. "Maybe I should give Ares a call. Let them know where their baby sister's been spending her nights. I wonder what they'd do with that information."
My hands form into tight fists. I have no doubt he'd do it. Sell out his only son. Find someone else to take over. Sometimes I'm surprised he's never done it.
He walks back and sits down in his chair. I imagine jumping across the desk and strangling him. Watching the light fade from his eyes. Feeling nothing but relief when it's done.
All these thoughts should disturb me, but they don't. Not anymore.
"You have nothing to say to them," I reply.
"No? You think they'll take kindly to a Petrou defiling their princess? You think they won't come for your head?"
"Is that what this is about? You're concerned for my safety?" I laugh. "How touching."
His hand slams down on the desk, making the crystal decanter jump. "This is about business. About power. About everything I've worked for that you're pissing away for a piece of ass. I gave them your cousins to get to this point. Things are in motion. Don't fuck with this or I'll kill you myself."
My blood feels molten.
"End it before I have to." His eyes narrow, something cruel flickering in them. "Wouldn't be the first time with them."
"What do you mean it wouldn't be the first time?"
He waves a hand dismissively at me. "You're not ready to understand how real men operate. But you'll learn. Faster, if you keep that Kastaris bitch around."
Something shifts inside me, plates of tectonic rage grinding against each other.
"Don't call her that," I growl, stepping forward.
He doesn't even blink. "I'll call her what she is. Now, get the fuck out of my office before I teach you the lesson I should've given you years ago."
I turn to leave because for the first time in a very long time, I think I could act on my thoughts.
"Remember who pays for your lifestyle," he calls after me. "Who gave you everything. Who made you and who could take it all away."
I pause with my hand on the doorknob. "You didn't make me. You tried to break me. There's a difference."
I walk out into the hall and my arm sweeps across a credenza by the door. A framed photo crashes to the floor. Glass shatters, skittering across marble.
One day, I'll kill that motherfucker.
I swear it.
And I won't feel a thing.
My pulse is still thunder in my ears when the phone buzzes in my pocket.
For a moment, I think it's him again. But it's a text from her.
Calli.
Guess where I am?
As I'm trying to type a response, her beautiful face appears. It's a picture of her, the Parthenon behind her.
Wait. You're here in Greece?
My brother surprised me.
I need to see you.
I don't know. I’m with Ares and your cousin.
I'll figure something out. I'm coming to Athens.
Yay, but also
God himself couldn't keep me from you. See you soon.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and think, If he even thinks of touching her, I'll bury him with my bare hands.