3

Nikolas

Rage still simmers in my veins from dealing with the Sicilian bastard who dared to sell heroin on my streets. 

Stupid fucker.

Usually, I’d let my men deal with the scum, but I wanted to send a clear message of what will happen to the rest of the Sicilian mafia if they don’t get the fuck out of Vancouver.

I down half the glass of champagne but the sweet bubbles only sour my mood further. My eyes flick to the server, who instantly scurries to my side. “Whiskey,” I order, and a minute later, the tumbler’s set down in front of me.

After the burning liquid soothes my temper a little, I glance at the girl who’ll soon be my stepsister. The thought makes my lips curl in distaste. 

Theresa Drakatos.  

Her body is slightly turned away from me, not enough to draw attention, but enough to give me the cold shoulder. 

I know everything there is to know about her, seeing as she’ll be my problem soon enough. As the head of the family, Tess will be my responsibility. The lack of respect she showed me is a clear indication that she’ll be a handful – one I don’t have the patience or time for.

She’s twenty-one and of marrying age. The quicker I arrange a marriage for her, the sooner I can hand her over to another man. The last thing I have energy for is a spoiled little girl that’s fifteen years my junior.

My thoughts turn to the disgusted way she glared at my hand, and I almost let out an amused chuckle. Got to hand it to her, that was brave. Fucking stupid, but brave nonetheless.

“Nikolas, have you heard from Christos?” Athina asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Yes, he’ll be at the wedding.”

“Where will he stay?” Father asks.

“Seeing as his family, I assume he’ll stay here,” I mutter. I have nothing to do with any of the wedding arrangements. I just know my cousin is attending because we were on a business call earlier.

Athina lets out a sigh. “I’ll check with him.”

“Where’s the restroom again?” Tess whispers to Helena.

“Down the hallway, second door to your right.”

Tess scoots the chair back, and getting up, she actually takes the long way around the table instead of just passing by me, making a show of keeping her back to me. 

My eyes drift over her body before they get stuck on her curvy ass that’s clearly been made for spanking. My palm itches at the thought.

I find my gaze stuck on the doorway, and annoyed with myself, I force my attention back to my family, but the second Tess returns to the dining room, my eyes lock on her like a heat-seeking missile. 

I take in her creamy skin and rich chocolate hair feathered to frame her face. She doesn’t have the same aristocratic nose and eyebrows as her mother, but instead, her features are delicate. 

Unlike most socialites Tess’ age, who are all skinny as fuck, her body fills the dress perfectly. I can’t help but appreciate her full, healthy curves.

She catches me staring at her, then narrows her eyes. 

Like I said, brave but stupid.

We share a glare that stokes the embers of my temper. Everyone who knows me is fully aware it doesn’t take much to anger me. Being the head of the mafia, I have to be brutal and unforgiving, so my enemies will know not to fuck with me.

In my world, fear is the most valuable commodity, and it’s something this girl will learn soon enough. Those who are feared rule the world. Those who fear are nothing more than pawns. 

Make no mistake, she will be a pawn.

When Tess takes her seat, I’m hit with a light feminine fragrance. Something fresh with hints of blossoms and vanilla. She smells like beauty and youth… ready to be corrupted.

My phone beeps, and digging it out of my pocket, I check the message from Andreas, my best friend and right-hand man. Growing up together, the man is like a brother to me and one of the few people I trust.

Looks like the message was received. The streets are quiet.

The corner of my mouth lifts as I type my response.

Good news.

Seconds later, the device vibrates in my hand.

Don’t forget the meeting with the Priesthood. I’ll pick you up in an hour for your flight.

I tuck the phone back in my pocket and take another sip of the whiskey, which has the server hurrying closer again to refill my glass.

My thoughts turn to the meeting with the Priesthood. We’re the five heads of the most prominent crime families who rule the world. We only have one rule – we don’t fuck with each other’s businesses or families – the rest of the world is fair game.

Relaxing back in my chair, I twirl the tumbler, my eyes focused on the amber liquid swirling as my thoughts revolve around the other four members of the Priesthood. 

Liam Byrne, head of the Irish mafia. Gabriel Demir, head of the Turkish mafia. Luca Cotroni, Don of the Italian mafia, and Viktor Vetrov, who’s in charge of the bratva. Luca and Viktor are close like brothers, and I quickly learned how valuable an alliance with the two men is. With their joint forces, pissing either one off would be stupid as fuck. 

The Priesthood meets in LA every three months to touch base and keep things civil between us. It’s to avoid a war that will bring the world to its knees.

A plate is set down before me, drawing my attention back to the dinner. The corner of my mouth lifts slightly when I notice we’re having moussaka. It’s dad’s favorite. Athina once tried to make it but only managed to burn it to a black crisp. Needless to say, my sister’s not a good cook.

I glance at Dad and Helena and watch as he presses a kiss to her hand in thanks for preparing the meal. 

When Dad first told me he was thinking of marrying again, I was unhappy as fuck. Our mother passed away two years ago, and no one will ever take her place. She was the most loving and perfect mother, and everyone else will always pale in comparison to her.

But seeing him happy and knowing Helena is good for him, I’ve accepted my father’s wishes. If he wants a new wife at the age of seventy-two, who am I to stop him?

The conversation keeps revolving around the wedding while we enjoy the meal. Not interested, my thoughts return to business.

I took over from my father twelve years ago and have since expanded our operations with an iron fist by not only owning every square inch of Greece and Cyprus but Canada as well. Dad only left Greece after Mom’s death, whereas Athina and I made Vancouver our home over a decade ago.

The Sicilian mafia, trying to move in on my territory, is the first resistance I’ve met. Sure there have been complications over the years, but nothing like this. The Sicilians have been coming in waves during the past three months, like a pest that just won’t die out, and I get a feeling it's because Liam’s tightening his hold on Chicago. I’ll find out at the meeting tonight.

Once dessert is brought to the table, I notice Tess is just as quiet as me, only listening but not participating in the conversation. When the bridesmaids' dresses are discussed, she scrunches her nose as if she hates the idea of wearing a yellow gown.