Page 1 of Betraying Family Vows
1
DIMITRI
Itip back the rest of my whiskey, ice clinking as it slides past my lips. Third glass. Not enough to dull the edges, but enough to take the shine off this picture-perfect wedding bullshit.
First Ares finds his queen. Now Theo's locked down his princess. Both my brothers with their perfect matches, their perfect little families forming while I stand guard like always.
The good soldier. The family blade.
"Another?" The bartender raises the bottle.
I nod, scanning the crowd.
So yeah, my brothers found something, which means Calli and I are the last unmarried Kastaris siblings.
I feel that thought take hold in my throat and I go to loosen my tie. Only problem is my tie's long gone, abandoned hours ago near the dessert tables where I nearly lost it with some drunk idiot who bumped into my sister a little too hard, or so I thought.
I reach for my fresh glass, and as I go to take a drink, I see her.
Sin wrapped in a red dress.
She's tall, with long black hair cascading over bare shoulders. Full lips painted the exact shade of her dress, scarlet, like something dangerous.
Her curves make my mouth go dry despite the whiskey coating my tongue. She's leaning against the bar, profile turned just enough to showcase the swell of perfect breasts barely contained by her dress. How did I not see her before?
She glances up. Our eyes lock. I don't look away. Neither does she.
Those beautiful red lips curve into a smile. Her head tilts downward in a gesture that should seem shy, but somehow doesn't. There's nothing shy about her.
I walk straight to her, forgetting about my drink. I don't break eye contact with her as I approach.
"Didn't think Theo or Stassi invited models," I say as I stop beside her.
She narrows her eyes. "Maybe I'm someone's plus-one."
"You're not," I say confidently.
"What makes you so sure?"
"If you were, I'd already be fighting him."
Her eyes flicker over my face, down to the tattoos creeping up my neck. "Are these your pickup lines?"
"Do I need them?"
That gets me a real smile.
She bites her lip.
"Athena," she offers, extending her hand.
"Dimitri." I reach for her hand, pressing my lips to her knuckles without breaking eye contact. "Fitting. Greek gods and all."
"Is that what you are?" she teases. "A god?"
"No. But I've been called worse."
Her laugh is soft and smooth. Her fingers linger in mine longer than they need to. I lean closer, drawn like a moth.
