Page 3 of Sweet Sinners
My grandfather, Leonidas, strode into the foyer, posture impeccable as ever. Tailored suit, graying temples, dark eyes that missed nothing, he still commanded any space he entered. Even now, withage stooping his shoulders just slightly, authority radiated from him effortlessly.
"Papou," I said, forcing a smile that felt small and uncertain.
In two long strides, he closed the distance, drawing Yiayia and me into a firm, unexpectedly tender hug. "It's been far too quiet around here without you," he said roughly, nostalgia coloring his voice.
When he stepped back, he studied me, gaze sharp and assessing. "Strange being back?"
I nodded slowly, the truth heavier than I was willing to admit aloud.
"Your papou and I know it isn't easy," Yiayia said softly, sensing my hesitation. Her voice lowered, gentle yet firm. "We weren't always here when you were growing up. Boston was your father's escape from Greece, his chance to build something without traditions and expectations weighing him down. But after…" She paused, voice catching briefly. "After everything, we knew you'd need us. Three years isn't long, but we missed far too many before."
She squeezed my hand gently, eyes bright with sincerity. "You're not alone anymore."
Papou nodded, warmth softening his usually stern expression. "And this place will feel like home again soon enough."
Yiayia tugged us toward the kitchen, her smile returning with quiet reassurance. "Come. We've missed you more than you'll ever know."
The kitchen had always been the only room in this cold, cavernous mansion that felt alive. Copper pots gleamed warmly from the walls, strings of dried herbs hung from the rafters, and the air smelled richly of cinnamon, vanilla, and freshly baked bread. A sturdy wooden table dominated the center, dishes steaming gently from the oven arranged across its surface. At the far end stood Maya, our housekeeper, neatly stacking plates. She glanced up, offering a soft, welcoming smile that made my chest tighten.
Without her, I never would’ve survived this house as a teenager. She was the closest thing I'd had to family before I'd been sent away.
She quickly set down the plates and rushed toward me, pulling me into a warm embrace. "Welcome home, Cali. I've missed you."
I hugged her tight, throat burning with unexpected emotion. "I missed you too, Maya."
For a moment, I let myself feel that ache, the bittersweet longing for years spent far from the people who’d made this place bearable. Maya pulled back gently, squeezing my shoulder once more before returning quietly to her task by the sink.
The comfort of our reunion settled softly around us until Papou cleared his throat, shattering the fragile peace.
“While it’s good to have you back, Cali,” he began, shifting into the controlled, businesslike tone I knew too well, “there are pressing matters. The company needs your attention.”
Yiayia's head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing sharply. "Leo," she warned, voice tight with quiet intensity.
He lifted a dismissive hand. "The longer we wait, the harder thetransition becomes."
Tension sparked through the kitchen like lightning, the silent stand-off charged enough to scorch the air between them.
Maya glanced between us, sensing the sudden shift. She touched my arm gently, murmuring, "I'll leave you three to talk. I'll take care of your bags."
"Thanks, Maya," I said quietly, offering her a weak smile as she slipped silently from the room.
Once we were alone, Yiayia’s fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table, prepared to argue, but I gently raised a hand to stop her.
“It’s okay, Yiayia,” I said quietly but firmly. “I knew exactly what I was coming back to.”
Papou nodded approvingly, eyes gleaming with pride. “Good. Then we can—”
“But,” I interrupted smoothly, meeting his gaze without wavering, “just because I knew doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. I understand my responsibility, but I don’t know if I’m ready for everything that comes with it. Not yet.”
Papou’s brow furrowed slightly, lips pressing into a thoughtful line as he studied me. Without responding, he reached down and grabbed the briefcase I'd overlooked beside his chair. The soft leather gleamed beneath the kitchen lights, and when he opened it, the Stavros family emblem—the silver ship—caught the glow.
My stomach knotted. That damn ship. Always there, always looming, always reminding me who I was supposed to be.
Who they demanded I become.
A sigh escaped before I could hold it back, and Papou glanced up sharply, silent and watchful. Without a word, he pulled a neat stack of papers from the briefcase and slid them across the table. Even untouched, their weight pressed heavily against my chest.
"That's a lot of paperwork for a homecoming," I teased lightly, forcing a smile, desperate to ease the tension before it suffocated me.
