Page 45 of Beyond Enemy Vows
I narrow my eyes at him. "Hmm. Are you sure about that? I mean, you'll run your family someday. I know how these dons act," I say, matching his sarcastic charm. "Won't it just be more of the same?"
He rubs my cheek. "No. If I have you any other way than by your own choosing, I'll never truly have you. I know what a loveless formality life is like. I don't want that, and I doubt you do either."
I shake my head no. Now that I know it exists for people like us. Seeing Ares and Katerina together changes my perception of things a bit. Ares has relaxed somewhat too, thanks to her.
He dropped my bodyguard when I'm with Keira, which was huge. I mean, technically it's because he thinks Keira's is around, which he isn't, but still. It's something.
I roll off of him and bend my arm to support my head, my elbow digging into the sheets. I pick up a petal and play with it in my hand.
"Tell me more about your family," I say. "About you. I want to know more."
He turns to his side and does the same with his hand. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything. Everything," I say and bring the petal to my nose to smell it. "The parts no one else sees."
"My father's name is Stavros Petrou."
I nod, smiling. "Yeah, I know. Come on," I say, tossing that petal at him.
"Okay, okay," he says and takes a deep breath.
"Saying he's an asshole is an understatement. He doesn't treat me like a son. Sometimes I wonder if he's even my father."
I blink. "What do you mean?"
He stares down at the rose petal I threw that he's now playing with. "Legally, biologically, sure. But emotionally?" He shakes his head. "He didn't raise me. He built me. I'm a tool to be used to advance the family name."
I stay silent, giving him the opportunity to continue.
"Beyond that, I doubt I was ever wanted. Just tolerated." His voice is flat, matter-of-fact, which somehow makes it worse. "He didn't raise me, and my mom died when I was young, so nannies did. Shit, those times we saw each other in Greece over the summers, those were the most time I'd ever spend around him."
"I'm sorry, Niko. My dad was different, but that's probably because I'm the youngest, a girl, and not destined to run the family."
"I'm sorry about your dad. I don't know if I ever told you," Niko says, looking at me.
"Thank you. It was..." I stop myself. "Anyway, more about you," I continue, forcing a smile.
"Uh, yeah, um, besides him being a total prick who despises me almost as much as I despise him?—"
"Really?" I cut him off. "He's that bad?"
He shrugs. "He never wanted a son, just an heir. Someone to continue the Petrou name, to take over when he's gone. Nothingmore." He shifts and sits up. "When I was ten, he handed me a knife and told me to earn my place in the family."
"Oh my God, Niko. What?" I ask, sitting up and hugging a pillow.
"Yeah. It took me like an hour to do it. After he told me that softness was a sickness. That love made men weak. That the only thing worth having in this world was power, and the only way to get it was to be the most brutal man in the room."
My heart aches for that boy, striving for approval that never came. I reach out and grab his hand. "You're more than what he made you," I say. "I see it. I feel it."
My hand finds his, and I intertwine our fingers. "I don't know why in our world that's a thing. Do you men not realize how loyal a woman can be? I mean, show her love and she'll fight to the death for you."
He laughs and leans in. "I have no doubt you would."
"Yeah, so fuck softness and all that. Be wild and caring with me, and you'll see," I say and wink at him.
He nods. "I already am. And did I just hear you use a curse word? I don't think I've heard you use one yet."
I shrug. "Really? I do use them, sparingly I guess. I'm a princess, after all," I say with a laugh.
