Page 19 of Forgotten Deeds

He locks eyes with me—his blazing with intensity. “I’ll protect you and Iris.”

“You’ll protect me and Iris by staying away from us. We’ll be married on paper, but that’s it,” I tell him sternly.

He doesn’t comment, instead turning on the radio to classical music.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a classical music listener,” I admit.

He smiles cruelly. “You think I’m a dumb brute.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hmm.”

“One other thing,” I continue.

“What, more ground rules?” he mocks.

“Don’t ever put me in the trunk again,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe in any given situation. Any other ground rules?” he asks.

“Yes. We are not consummating this marriage,” I say firmly.

Darius looks over to me and smiles. “Whatever you say, future wifey.”

Chapter Nine

Lily

We arrive in Atlantic City, making our way past the bright lights of the casinos to a less flashy residential street. Pulling into a condo complex, Darius parks the car and opens my door for me. “This is a wedding, not a funeral,” he reminds me.

Funny, because it feels like both.

We walk to the front stoop, and he rings the doorbell. A pretty woman around my age answers. “Come in,” she says enthusiastically, closing the door behind her. “Hi, I’m Kat,” she says to me with a hint of a Greek accent. She’s tall and slender, with dark features, lovely olive skin, and wild black curls flowing down her back.

“Hello. I’m Lily.” I force a smile.

“Lily, it’s nice to meet you. Have a seat.” Kat gestures to the couch. Sniffing Darius, she makes a face. “Should I ask?”

“You shouldn’t,” he says matter-of-factly. “I need a shower.”

“You know where the bathroom is, cousin.”

“Aggeloudhi mou, go ahead and start on the paperwork, and I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Darius tells me. He says something to Kat in Greek before disappearing down the hall.

“What Darius just called me in Greek, what does it mean?” I ask her.

“Little angel. So freakin’ sweet.” She beams at me. “How long have you and my cousin been together?”

“We’re not together,” I correct her.

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow, and then glances pointedly to the marriage paperwork on the table.

“I mean we are together. It’s just…” I pause, searching for the right word that won’t get me killed. “Complicated.”

She pats my hand. “Look at it this way: you’ll never be bored with complicated.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” I wonder.

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