32

Cara
I’m standing on the balcony looking out at the lake when Eros comes home. The sun’s setting over the water and the colors sparkle with the waves, and I force myself to turn away and meet his gaze.
“Always beautiful,” he says, staring at me and not at the water.
I feel myself blush. “How was your day?”
“Uneventful.” He joins me at the railing. “The Italians are making noise, but nothing I didn’t expect.”
“Really? Are you okay?”
“We’re fine. You worry more about yourself.” He glances at me. “I haven’t spoken to you much since dinner. Are you holding up okay?”
I grimace slightly and stare down at my hands. I’m not sure how I’m feeling-it’s really hard to piece it all together. He tried to warn me that things would be difficult, but I didn’t really believe him, not until Anissa was standing there calling me a piece of trash to my face at least.
“Your sister visited me today at work.”
His eyebrows raise. “Really? She set foot in that little diner? Amazing.”
I give him a look. “Why do you say that?”
“Helen is a good person. I love her with all my heart. But that girl is one of the most spoiled people I’ve ever met.”
“Eros,” I say and push his arm. “She’s sweet.”
“She has never wornsneakersin her life.” He glances down at my feet and I glare at him.
“Is that a dig at me?”
“No, it’s merely pointing out that my sister is very much used to a certain standard of living, and entering inexpensive Greek diners is not really part of her lifestyle.”
I deflate slightly and reluctantly nod at him. I know what he means-Helen is sophisticated and beautiful in a way I never will be, and it’s intimidating as hell. “She wants to have coffee tomorrow.”
“Good. You should do it.”
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “You’re not going to tell me not to get involved with your family?”
“Helen is my sister and you’re both grow women. If you want to get to know her, then by all means.”
“Huh.” I turn my back on the lake and study him. He’s staring back at me with that intense expression. It makes my toes curl with anxious excitement. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so mature about this.”
His gaze hardens as he looks away. “There isn’t much good in my family these days, Cara. Helen is one of the few people I think hasn’t been corrupted by the violence and the power we hold. Besides, maybe you’d be a good influence on her.”
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“She might see your sneakers and decide she should never, ever buy a pair.”
I roll my eyes, punch his arm, and he laughs at me as I walk inside. He follows then pours himself a drink.
“I asked her about your mother,” I say, accepting a glass of wine. “She didn’t really say much.”
He takes a long sip. “What’s there to say?”
“Eros.”
“You don’t have to worry about my mother.”
“She clearly hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. Sophia and Aunt Anissa, they hate you. But my mother-she’s simply hard to please.”
I sip my wine and stalk away, thinking. “I don’t even know what that means,” I say finally.
“I’m her oldest son. I’m the last male in the Khazan line, aside from some random cousins we have stashed away in the closet. She understands that my role is extremely important, but there have also been… complications.”
I slowly meet his gaze and hold it. “Complications that involve how you came to power?”
His expression doesn’t change. He keeps staring at me, studying me, looking at me like he wants to push me down and strip me naked purely so he can keep on looking. I shiver and finally tear my gaze away, unable to hold that intensity for long.
“Yes, that is part of it,” he says finally. “But the truth is, my mother will never accept any woman I decide to marry, Greek or otherwise. She’ll come around eventually. You’ll have to be patient.”
“Right. Patient.” I nod slowly as I rub my face. An ugly headache begins to blossom between my eyes. “Am I silly for caring? Does it really even matter? This whole marriage thing isn’t even real.”
“It’s real,” he says. “Only temporary.”
“So I shouldn’t care. I can handle your mom hating me, right? Since she won’t be my mother-in-law forever.”
“That’s one way of thinking about it.” But he doesn’t sound happy about that.
“At dinner, your mom seemed close with Anissa and Sophia. But those two supposedly hate you, right?”
“Anissa and my mother are sisters. They used to be closer, but certain events complicated things. Truthfully, they don’t blame my mother for what happened. If you knew-” He hesitates and shakes his head. “Well, if you knew, you wouldn’t either.”
I want to ask what he means by that. Curiosity tears at me, but Eros doesn’t seem like he wants to go into detail about what happened with his family when he became the lord, and there’s some part of me that doesn’t want to know the details.
It was a violent mob coup. I can imagine how that went down.
And I’m terrified that if I heard the ugly particulars, I might ever be able to look at him the same.
Would that be so bad?
I stifle and a yawn and finish my wine. “I’m exhausted. I think I’m going to take a shower and turn in early. Are you coming to bed tonight, or are you going to hide out again?”
His eyes widen slightly. He stares at me for a moment, his jaw working, and I can tell I pissed him off, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Like usual.
“I have work to do,” he says finally.
“Right. Like usual. And I guess you’re still letting me get used to everything?”
He walks toward me suddenly. “Are you saying you want me in your bed tonight?”
“I’m saying I’ve been sleeping inyourbed, without you, for days now. That’s all I’m saying.”
He stops inches away from me, staring down into my eyes. “I am not avoiding you.” His gaze drifts to the ring on my finger. “And you will be my wife soon.”
“How soon?”
“My friend Gareth is drawing up the papers. They’ll be ready tomorrow.”
Fear suddenly jolts through me. Fear and anxiety war for control, but I force myself to stay still as he stands inches away from me, looking beautiful. He smells like whiskey and pine, a heady cologne.
“Tomorrow we’ll make it official then,” I whisper.
“Which means tonight, I’m coming to bed.”
“Prove it.” I force myself to move and brush past him. “For a big, bad mafia man, you sure do like to talk a lot.”
I open the bedroom door and I expect an ugly retort from him-but instead, he chuckles softly, sounding genuinely amused, and a quick pulse runs through my heart.
Tomorrow, it’s official. And tonight, he’s coming to bed.
I don’t know if I’m happy or terrified, but I think it might be a mixture of both.