Page 3 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
She leans in, kisses my temple, and gently cuts me off. “I know, I know. You don’t believe in soulmates because none of us have asoul. But why believe in my magic and not his? He has your best interest at heart. He said it’s going to be?—”
“Spare me the details, will you? I’m not interested. I need a break from all this…” I sweep my arm dramatically in front of me. “Greekness!”
She chuckles and gives my hand a squeeze. “I get it. Really.”
Then she slows her pace, tilts her head toward me, and repeats the one word I hadn’t let her finish when I interrupted her.
“—epic.”
Chapter One
EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD
Théo
The towering hotels cast long shadows over narrow streets, juxtaposed with older Belle Époque-style facades near the casino. Under the streetlights of the Principality of Monaco, their ornate details glow softly.
The combination of modern opulence and historic charm creates a setting that’s oddly both glamorous and tightly wound, much like the tension prickling along my spine—ridiculous, really, but impossible to ignore—about the upcoming meeting.
“Damn, what’s up with this weather?” I curse under my breath, shivering under the unusual wind that bites at my cheeks as I enter the building, tightening my scarf around my frozen neck.
It’ll be Valentine’s Day in a couple of days, and it’s meant to be all hearts and flowers, but not in the middle of a February chill. Don’t get me wrong, I’m the epitome of anti-romantic and loathe the annual display.
But still, this doesn’t feel like a time for celebration at all.
Monaco’s weather should be mild this season, yet the briny cold cuts through—steeped in the Mediterranean’s salt. A shame the situation keeps me from appreciating the scenery as I should. A couple of years have passed since I set foot here, and I was eager about the trip. But that visit happened in summertime, and I’d found a hookup who volunteered to play tour guide during the extended weekend I spent here, connecting with potential clients.
That was then, this is now.
Slowly fumbling with the buttons of my heavy coat, I step off the elevator, buzz the doorbell, and offer a businesslike smile at the tall, well-groomed man who resembles Lurch fromThe Addams Family.He ushers me into the penthouse after announcing my arrival.
“Good evening, Dolus. An honor to meet you, at last.” He extends his hand, his voice collected. “I’m Alexis. So that’s the face behind the legend.” Flattery or sincerity? Hard to tell.
I couldn’t care less that he addresses me in English—business runs smoother that way. The missing last name? Irrelevant. He’s not the client. I suspect he’s an associate of the man I’m here to see.
Something about his delivery—measured, devoid of pretense—lingers. And it’s the steadiness of his outstretched hand that gives me pause. Just for a second.
I clasp it, nodding in return, and realize I’m playing the part a little too stiffly. This setting. This meeting. This client. Serious player. I’ve pulled off worse with less. But my jaw’s tight. Alexis downplays the atmosphere of the room.
My clients aren’t privy to my actual identity, and that’s for the best. Same with revealing my appearance. My reputation usually precedes me, so showing my face only occurs when a business deal is about to be executed. Even then, with the help of a precious connection, I can alter my facial features and my body shape—thanks to a few trinkets once used in movies.
“Mister Volkoff is expecting you,” he adds, leading the way across the corridor and through a set of double doors.
The suite is immaculate, all sleek surfaces and muted gold accents, but the pristine white walls, adorned with modern art pieces—not my favorites—seem to absorb the tension in the air, reflecting it back tenfold.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the glittering lights of the harbor are barely visible through a thin mist rolling in off the water. It makes everything claustrophobic, even with such an unrivaled view.
I brushed off the chill on my way here, yet this room holds a different coldness, unrelated to the weather.
The soft light of the penthouse suite cuts through the haze of expensive cigars and muted conversation. I sit at the head of a slick marble table that might be worth more than my apartment back in Paris—if I hadn’t given it up. Claiming the chair reserved for someone more...establishedis a power move. But this isn’t my first rodeo, but I’m still young, and some of my potential clients enjoy testing my nerves.
No one stops me. That’s been the trick since I started in this business: Act like you belong, and they let you.
Across from me, Stanislas Volkoff adjusts his gold cufflink with a flick of his wrist. The sharp angles of his face don’t betray anounce of softness. It must be why he looks older than his forties. Beside him stands a much younger woman, draped in pearls rich with untold stories. The others—three men and another woman—watch me like I’m a horse they’re thinking of betting on.
Although I’m outnumbered, I stand tall. I am not bulky by any means, but none of them scare me. As odd as it may seem, my line of work requires me to be trained in several martial arts. I can handle most of them without too much of a hassle. Being prepared has always been the priority on the job—you never know who you might come across. So, here I am, staring them in the eye for a bit while Volkoff plays the perfect host.
Once we’ve all appraised each other and we’re all sitting around the marble table, he eventually says, “You understand the terms,Do-lus?” His voice is smooth, deliberate. I pretend not to notice the hint of amusement that rolls off his poisonous tongue when he slowly pronounces my nickname. His dark eyes hold mine, and it’s clear that he’s well-aware of its origin. I’d enjoy chatting with this well-read man under other circumstances, but I’ll never be ready to confess that said nickname is a tribute to my late dad, from whom I inherited my passion for Greek mythology.
