Chapter Twenty-Three-Atlas
The cocktails are a formality. A test.
This isn’t about drinks.
It’s about posturing.
Power.
Perception.
Every man here is watching. And not just the ones I came to see.
The Turkish sun is melting into the sea beyond the infinity pool, casting gold over the marble terrace, and Cecilia stands beside me like she was carved for this moment.
Elegant. Untouchable. Mine.
She wears some silky confection in shades of browns and golds, and I like the way it looks against her smooth, soft skin.
I frowned at first when she walked out of our room. Told her it was too sheer. Showed too much.
She laughed out loud and said I was being possessive.
She’s right.
But I don’t give a fuck.
Still, she looks like a goddamn queen, and she’s on my arm, so I suppose I can afford to relent.
Besides tonight, I need them to see everything—her body, her beauty, her confidence—and the fact that I’m out of my mind for her. I need them to see it. To believe it. And to understand that none of her is for them.
Only me. Mine.
I keep my arm around her waist, not loose but claiming.
My ring flashes on her finger every time she lifts her champagne flute. It’s old. Antique. A family heirloom, though I’m not sure she knows it.
Her smile is gracious but reserved.
Just enough charm to keep this civil.
Just enough distance to keep me from snapping necks.
She knows the game.
And she’s playing it like a pro.
“You’re certain this is him?” she murmurs without moving her lips as a thin, silver-haired man steps into the terrace’s edge, flanked by two guards.
“Not the warlord,” I murmur back. “But he speaks for him. Calls himself Shun Li.”
He’s older than I expected, with a patrician nose and a cane tipped in black jade.
But the men around him—young, coiled, armed under their jackets—aren’t here for decoration.
I nod once to my second, who stands by the entrance, and we walk forward to meet him.
“Prince Stavros,” the man says in perfect English. “We’ve heard much about you.”
“I hope some of it’s true,” I answer coolly, extending my hand.
His grip is dry. Measured.
His eyes flick to Cecilia.
“And this?”
“My wife,” I say, flat and final.
His brows lift, and something cold flickers behind his eyes.
“Ah! Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Mr. Li,” Cecilia smiles, making no move to touch the older man.
“A union in dangerous times,” he muses. “Let’s hope it lasts.”
I smile with teeth.
“Oh, it will.”
Because I’ll fucking kill everything on this planet before I let her go.
I don’t say that part out loud. But I’m hoping he reads it in my eyes.
Shun Li gestures to the waiter, and a round of crystal tumblers arrives—whiskey, of course.
Turkish, smoky, too soft for my mood.
“To peace,” he says, raising his glass.
I raise mine too, but I don’t drink. Not yet.
“Peace is for men who’ve finished fighting,” I murmur. “I’m just getting started.”
He laughs. Too loud. A little forced.
But I don’t look at him again.
My attention is on Cecilia—her chin lifted, her eyes scanning the guards, her fingers steady on the stem of her wineglass.
She’s doing everything right.
And still, I want to drag her out of here and lock her in the suite where no one else can see her.
Because she doesn’t belong in this world.
And I’ll be damned if it eats her alive.
We move to a secluded area. A few lounge chairs sitting in a corner. The perfect spot for our guards to take up their positions around us.
Shun Li doesn’t waste time.
He sets down his glass, untouched on the small table between the chairs, and leans in just a fraction. Enough to signal that what comes next won’t be polite.
“I must say, I am surprised ot hear you’ve taken a wife. Especially, with my boss’s offer.”
“Your boss offered a child bride I had no interest in. As you can see, I am spoken for,” I reply, squeezing Cecilia’s knee, and drawing his gaze.
“Indeed. Well, your uncle will be surprised as well.”
“My uncle?”
“Indeed, Dimitri Stavros reached out to us weeks ago,” he says, watching me carefully.
The words are calm. Measured.
Mine are not.
“He did what?”
Shun Li lifts one hand.
“He visited with the General. He came with documents. Ledger copies. Asset sheets. Claimed he controlled the Stavros Trust and was taking over Hephaestus United. Said he had power over your remaining maritime holdings and that you were on the verge of retirement, urging the General to offer his daughter to seal this alliance.”
I feel my jaw lock.
My temples throb.
I glance at Cecilia briefly—she’s playing it cool, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.
She’s listening to every word.
“He said that?”
“He implied you had planned to step away from the business.”
“I see. Unfortunately, Mr. Li, my uncle is mistaken.”
“Is he?”
I lean forward now, bracing both hands on the table, crowding into the space between us.
“That old man is not in charge of a single thing, least of all my company, my family’s trust, or its holdings. Ever since my father died, those privileges and burdens have been mine alone. In fact, the only reason Dimitri is still breathing is because I allowed it.”
Shun Li shrugs, almost apologetic.
“We didn’t believe him. Not entirely. But he brought enough paperwork to muddy the waters. Enough that the General was admittedly curious.”
“Curious doesn’t cover why the General has tried to seize control of my mines. And if you truly believed my uncle, why are you here sipping drinks with me instead of signing papers with him?”
“You’re astute for so young a man.”
“I’m not that young. Now, what does the General really want, Shun?”
He studies me. Then glances at Cecilia.
“He wants to see who bleeds first.”
I sit back slowly. I understand the game.
This is a test.
A provocation.
Dimitri made his move, and now the underworld is watching to see what I do.
“I have every right to execute a man who steals from me,” I say softly.
Shun Li nods. “But if you do it now, you prove you’re unstable. Rash.”
“And if I let him live?”
“You prove he had reason to try.”
Cecilia shifts beside me. I feel her hand brush mine under the table.
“And just what do you suggest?” I ask.
Shun smiles.
“Take back what’s yours. Publicly. Irrevocably. Let the General see the shadow crown on your head still means something.”
He sets down a USB drive.
Silver. Clean.
“What is it?”
“Proof. Paper trails. Surveillance. The moment Dimitri overplayed his hand. Use it wisely, Your Highness. And be careful. He’s bought people inside your circle.”
I pocket the drive without a word.
When I stand, so does he.
“Thank you for the drink,” he says. “I look forward to seeing how this plays out.”
I don’t answer.
I offer Cecilia my arm and lead her back toward the suite.
War has always been in my blood.
But now, it feels personal.