Page 27 of Stolen Hearts

“Inhale, exhale, Callie. Inhale, exhale. It’s behind you. He can’t hurt you.”

Five minutes later, I was calm, and it didn’t feel like the world was crushing me under its thumb.

But Castle was gone.

That was two months ago, and I’ve barely seen him since.

There is zero part of me that thinks that’s an accident.

But a lot has happened in those two months. Eilish and Gavan went through their horrible ordeal where they both almost died at the hands of Gavan’s psychotic, revenge-bent aunt, Svetlana. They’re alsoengaged, and even though I’m still wallowing in my own darkness, that makes me so unbelievably happy for them.

Also, Thermopylae Acquisitions—our family’s “legitimate” private equities firm, named after the place where the fabled three hundred Spartans held their ground against thousands because our Ya-ya insists we’re the direct descendants of the shirtless guys with the CGI abs from the movie300and do not eventryto tell her otherwise—is having aphenomenalquarter. Ares started the company to better manage our family’s and the Kildare family’s investments, not to mention clean the dirty money. And a great quarter for returns is good for everyone.

Alsoin recent news, Neve took me aside the other day and slyly mentioned that she and Ares were “pulling the goalie.” As in, I might be an aunt sooner rather than later. Which isSOfucking amazing and exciting.

But the biggest news of all…at least to me…is that there’s beenzeroword from the Carveli family. None. Two months ago, Ares thought it was alarming that they’d stopped responding to him. A month ago, it was just plain weird.

But then a few weeks ago, the word on the street started to filter in from multiple sources that Luca Carveli was dead from an “unfortunate and unexpected heart attack”.

Andstillit’s been radio fucking silence from the Italians.

You’d think this would fill me with relief. Like, overwhelmingly so. It certainly has the rest of my family ecstatic that I’m no in the grip of the horrible blood-marker promising me to Luca.

But for some reason, I can’t relax quite yet. For some reason, I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, as if Luca’s going to come staggering back from the grave looking to finish what he started.

Yeah, Iseriouslyneed to start sleeping better.

I inhale and exhale once more into the mirror. Then it’s time to get ready for my own birthday party.

* * *

I’ve gotplans to go out later with “the girls”—Neve, Eilish, Elsa, Una, and my and Eilish’s friend Dahlia—to celebrate my newly-minted legal drinking status. But first, it’s a family dinner dialed up to the max.

It’s well into fall, now. But just the same, Ya-ya’s had the outdoor area where we all love to eat set up for a huge birthday feast. The massive dining table is draped in white linen, and gorgeous floral arrangements under the arbor are wrapped in twinkling garden lights and surrounded by heat lamps and flickering torches.

It’s truly magical, and even if I’ve still got this darkness weighing on my shoulders, I can’t help but grin when I walk out to the waiting crowd of friends and family in a beautiful setting like this.

“Surprise.”

I almost have a heart attack when I hear the voice behind me.

Since Paris, being surprised from behind isn’t exactly on my list of favorite activities. But when I remember how to actually breathe, and can focus on who’s standing in front of me, my face lights up.

“D!”

I fling myself into my brother Deimos’ arms, grinning as he chuckles and hugs me back. When the rest of us returned to New York from London, Deimos stayed behind to run the European Drakos operations. The youngest of my brothers, I haven’t seen him inmonths, and even then, it was only for like twelve hours because he was just here for a quick meeting before diving right back into work in London.

“I can’t believe you’re here!!”

He chuckles in that dark, slightly rough way of his. “I can’t believe my kid sister is twenty-fucking-one. Goddamn, Callie, when didthathappen?”

Our dad was a Greek mythology nut. So all six of us were named after various Greek gods, titans, and in my case, a muse. Our oldest, deceased brother, Atlas, was named for the titan who was condemned to hold up the heavens. Even thoughourAtlas seemed more condemned to be a ruthless asshole built purely from spite and malice.

It’s a terrible thing to say, but he’s not exactly missed much.

Ares is the god of war and courage. That tracks. Hades doesn’t so much fit his “god of hell” moniker anymore, not after finding Elsa. But that streak is still in there somewhere. Kratos, literal giant that he is, is completely the “god of strength and might”. Calliope was the muse of “eloquence, epic poetry, and harmony of voice”, which is comedy gold because I can’t sing forshit, and I’ve never once written a poem.

I also don’t have an eloquent bone in my body. Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.

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