Page 18 of Beneath Scarred Vows
I watch each of them carefully. Theo, serious and strategic. Dimitri, charming with a sharp edge. Calli, deceptively carefree yet missing nothing. And Ares—the center of gravity they all orbit.
"So, Katerina," Dimitri says during a lull. "Are you finding Chicago to your liking?"
I set down my glass. "I've only seen it from car windows so far."
"Ares hasn't shown you around?" Calli asks, raising her eyebrows at her brother.
"We just arrived today," Ares says smoothly.
"Still," Theo chimes in, "you should see the city. It's quite different from Kalamata."
"I'm sure Ares has plans." I take another sip of water. "He seems to plan everything."
Theo's mouth twitches in what might be amusement. Calli doesn't bother hiding her grin.
"He does," she says, laughing. "My brother leaves nothing to chance."
There's a slight silence, but Calli doesn't allow it to expand.
"Oh my gosh, I love the beads on your dress," she says, launching into a story about a beaded dress she owns.
I tune her out—not on purpose, but because I hear what Theo says to Ares. Their voices are hushed, but I catch fragments that instantly sharpen my attention.
"We have some new intel about Father's murder. I think?—"
"Not now," Ares cuts him off with a barely perceptible shake of his head.
Theo leans closer. "The timing is crucial. If what I suspect is?—"
"I said not now." Ares's voice drops even lower, his jaw muscles flexing. "It's all I'm thinking about, but not in front of her."
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. I keep my expression neutral, though my pulse quickens. Their father's murder. This is the first I've heard of it. Uncle Stavros mentioned their father had died, but never how.
“Katerina? Hello?” Calli waves her hand in front of my face. “What do you think?”
I shake my head as the table looks at me. “Sorry. Just a little tired from the trip.”
“Of course,” she says, but her eyes narrow slightly. She glances at her brothers, then back at me. “Travel is exhausting.”
“So, Katerina,” Dimitri says, leaning back in his chair with casual grace that doesn’t match the intensity in his eyes, “tell us about yourself. What did you do in Kalamata before all this?” He gestures vaguely to encompass the dinner table, the house, my marriage.
I think to myself, Before my world burned to ash or before my uncle sold me to solidify an alliance?
“Not much worth mentioning,” I say, moving the food around my plate. “I draw.”
“Draw?” Calli perks up. “What do you draw?”
I shrug. “Whatever comes to mind.”
“Maybe you could sketch me? Ares would love a portrait of me on his desk,” Calli laughs as she takes a sip of her wine. “Or maybe something beautiful from Kalamata? We could have it framed and hung someplace, I’m sure.”
“Perhaps,” I reply noncommittally. “I don’t think I could draw as well as what Ares already has hanging on the walls.”
“Have you ever tried?” Ares asks.
I look at him, and in this moment, I realize his gaze on me is different from everyone else in the room.
“No.”
