by SR Jones
The even bigger question is why? Why am I determined to make her want me? I don’t have an answer to that one, and I push it far back to the murky recesses of my brain where it won’t bother me again.
I thought I could do this and remain cool and in control, but right now, I’m anything but. I have this lingering fear that I’m getting in over my head here. No matter how much I tell myself this is fake and it means nothing, part of me insists it does. No matter how many times I try to pretend I only want to fuck with Maya because she rejected me in favor of Alesso, I know deep down it’s something more. What, though, I’m not sure.
***
Stamatis comes into the room at that moment, reminding me of what dangerous ground I’m treading on even contemplating this game between Maya and me.
He walks over to us men and opens a dark wooden box he is carrying. “Cigar?” He offers one to me first, and I take it.
I don’t smoke often, but I enjoy a cigar now and again. Alesso and Markos also take one, and Markos pours out some whisky, and soon we’re all sipping our drinks and enjoying the cigars. They’re Ghurka’s and highly expensive.
“I know Yannis is literally an unexploded bomb, and therefore totally unpredictable, but do you think Lefteris will come after Maya and me when you deliver the news?” I ask Stamatis.
Stamatis gives us a speculative look as he puffs away, and I wonder what he’s about to say. He doesn’t keep me waiting long.
“Do you know why I lend you guys out to babysit spoiled mafia wives and the children of men who some might say are my enemies?”
Markos shrugs and shakes his head, and I don’t get why Stamatis has taken this weird conversational turn, but I let it play out.
“I mean, when you consider it, it’s not a good use of resources, loaning out my best men to other families. But here’s the thing. Whenever I loan you guys out, I always say: They’re the best. No one can get past these men; they’re highly trained killers. Special forces and much more, and they will keep you safe. And you do keep them safe. You have a hundred percent success rate.”
I take a sip of the whisky and enjoy the burn, letting it soothe some of the nerves I’m getting. I’m not sure where he’s going with this. We do have total success so far in protection, but it did always strike me as odd that Stamatis would loan us out the way he did; particularly as we’ve become more embedded in and essential to his organization. We aren’t the same as our friend, Andrius, who always remained a lone operator; we are absolutely part of Stamatis’ crime syndicate now, and an increasingly important one.
“See, the reason I do so is because it sends out a not-so subtle message. It says: These men are so fucking good; I’m guaranteeing your loved ones will be safe. They know all the ways someone might try to harm you and yours, and they can stop them. So all my enemies, and my friends, because sometimes they are the same damned thing, they know my men are the best. It’s me they come to if they’re terrified for their women. If they’re worried for their own safety and can’t sleep at night? Me. Why? Because I have the best at keeping them safe under my employee.”
He takes another puff on the cigar and blows a perfect smoke ring. “But the converse is also true. If you are the best at keeping people safe, if you know all the ways a person can be got to and harmed, then it stands to reason you would also be the best at the polar opposite. At getting to people. I’ve loaned you out in the past, and it stops now by the way, as a way to make those around me in this murky fucking game of ours fear me, and you, more than they would otherwise.”
He chuckles then, low and deadly. “Alesso, you’re like my PR guy, the one who makes them feel comfortable with having my men in their house, but who when he has to, bares his teeth and shows them he’s not to be messed with. You, Damen, you’re the one who flat out scares them, and you Markos, you freak them out even more. You’re mysterious. You’ve got the whole prayer bead thing going on which, by the way, if it’s an affectation, is great.”
I nearly choke on my scotch. Markos’ incessant playing with those damn worry beads is most definitely not an affectation, and Markos may be quiet, but I’d have thought even Stamatis wouldn’t be stupid enough to speak about him in such a way.
“I don’t mean any offence in what I say.” Stamatis holds one hand up as if suddenly aware he might have crossed a line. “You three individually give off an air of menace, but together, you’re insanely intimidating. So, yes, for a period I loaned you out to those who were terrified and desperate, and if you must know, sometimes I created the thing they feared myself. There was no tangible threat in some cases, but you and they didn’t need to know that. They got the best protection they’d ever seen, you always went in and sorted their security, trained their own men and made them exponentially better, but never, ever as good as you three.”
What a Machiavellian bastard he is.
“You, Damen, if they were harassed electronically, you could hack into anything and find out who was behind it. In doing so, you impressed them deeply then, as they got back onto their feet, I pulled you out and brought you back home. To me, to this family, and this organization. Yet those people would never forget what you were capable of, nor who you really worked for and were loyal to.”
“Fuck me,” Alesso says with a whistle, and I have to agree.
“Yeah.” Stamatis shrugs. “Before this shit happened with Maya, I was already planning for it to stop. My eldest son, as you know, doesn’t want an official part of the business, and while my youngest does, he’s a fuck up of epic proportions right now. The kid, God love him, needs to get his head on straight before I let him near anything of importance. But with the way things are going, the expansion and the possible deal you guys have brought me with Allyov, I need you to be more. You know here in Greece, we don’t have the rules and hierarchy of the Italians, or the brotherhood of the Russians when it comes to things like this, but you three are heading for big things with me, and we’re going to make it public how important you are to this organization moving forward.”
He crosses one leg casually over the other then fixes me with shrewd brown eyes. “So no, Damen, to answer your question, I don’t think Lefteris will do anything. Other than marrying Maya to one of my own sons, not possible of course, there isn’t anyone higher up in this organization I could give her to, in order to have our protection.”
Holy shit, the wily snake. What he’s been saying sinks in slowly. He set up pretend threats simply so people could see how good we three were. Wow. I glance at Alesso and see his disappointment, and I think Stamatis might have overplayed his hand here with this stunt. I’m sure the three of us will be having words about it in private.
“Of course, with you all being made a lot more important within the organization will come more money and responsibility. There may come a point when one of you has to become the de facto second in command, until my younger son gets himself in the right place. If that happens, then I want to know you’ll all be okay with me making a choice between you?”
I shift a little in my seat. I already know he’ll choose Alesso. No way would he pick Markos, and he might have picked me, maybe, if I’d been with him as long as Alesso has, but I haven’t. I don’t mind; I’m happy working with and for Alesso. He at times had seniority on me during some of our missions. He’s got a strategic mind and a will of steel behind his more affable exterior. People consistently underestimate him. I think a combination of his looks and his friendly demeanor makes people think he’s a nice guy. He’s not.
None of us are.
The door opens, and Stamatis’ wife walks in.
“Oh, look at you boys! Damen, you’re not ready.”
I’m pretty much ready. My three piece light grey suit is buttoned up, cufflinks are on; the only thing I need to do is fasten my tie and shirt. She bustles over and starts to do it for me. “Such a big, handsome man. The three of you, you could break hearts all over the world, I swear. I know this is only for work, but you treat my niece ri
ght. The poor girl hasn’t had the best life so far. Lord knows, Spiros is a difficult man.”
“Of course,” I say solemnly.
Christ, I wonder how much sympathy she’d retain for Maya if she knew Stamatis was the girl’s real father? Very little I suspect.
“Okay, you’re ready. Now come, boys. We need to get downstairs.”
We haven’t gone in for any of the traditional stuff. I believe in my God, and I won’t desecrate that belief by marrying Maya in a church. She hasn’t said anything about it, so I presume she’s okay with it. And while Alesso is officially my koumparos, the Greek version of a best man, he didn’t do most of the tasks he would have if this were for real. He didn’t shave me, as a sign of trust between us, and he won’t be going to Maya’s house to put money in her shoes, another tradition we have.
It suddenly hits me that perhaps she’ll be upset by this. I hope not. This wedding has to be legal, and it will be. A civil wedding in a beautiful hotel. There will be a few photographs that can be released if they are needed, only of the two of us, and that will be that. I push the guilt away at wondering if Maya is upset by the lack of tradition. I’m doing this to save her ass after all. She should be grateful.
We all head out of the room and downstairs, and we file into the room where the ceremony will take place. It’s depressingly empty. None of the chatter and excitement of a real wedding. Only myself, my two friends, and Stamatis and his wife.
Maya’s parents will accompany the bride. She won’t even have her best friend here, because we can’t risk it.
I stand at the front of the room, decorated at least with some flowers and ribbon so it looks pretty, and wait. My heart rate is higher than usual, and I have no idea why. Maybe because I’m about to do the craziest thing I’ve ever done.
The doors open, and Maya’s mother walks in, smiling. Her gaze flickers to where Stamatis holds his wife’s hand, and she lowers her eyes. Stamatis doesn’t move, but he does clench and unclench his jaw, and he squeezes his wife’s hand, as if doing so reminds him of who he is with. Whom he should love. Then he tears his gaze away from Marina and focuses to the front of the room.
When Marina looks back up and our gazes meet, there’s a deep sadness shimmering in the depths of her green orbs.
She still has feelings for him.
Christ, I bet she regrets every day sticking by Spiros.
Music starts playing; it’s not the normal Wedding March, but something by Dean Martin. It makes me smile.
The doors open once more, and Maya’s pseudo-father steps into the room first, arm crooked, and she follows him.
I stare and stare some more.
Holy fuck, she’s a vision.
I’ve always thought her hot, but now she’s beautiful.
The dress is simple but stunning, and it fits her like a glove, highlighting all the wonderful dips and curves of her sexy body. Her hair is piled loosely behind her head, in a sort of huge loose bun or something similar that probably has a name for the style that women know.
Long tendrils are loose around her face and falling down around her neck, but it all looks weirdly casual, as if she simply swept the thick strands up and secured them. I don’t like it when you see hair all formally styled with ringlets and so much spray it could stay up in a hurricane. This is nothing like that, and all I want to do is go up to her and let it down and see the moment it brushes her shoulders.
She’s watching her feet at first as she walks, but then she looks up. Her gaze lands first on Alesso standing by me, doesn’t linger and carries to me, and she smiles. It makes me strangely proud to see her reserve that twitch of her lips for me.
Maya walks toward me, head held high, and her mouth lifts more as she gives me the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I can’t pretend it doesn’t affect me. I can’t pretend it’s merely a bit of fun. She hits me right in the gut, blinding me with her presence.
Oh, shit.
I’m in trouble.
The wedding passes in a blur. I have no clue what’s happening, because all the way through I’m in a state of anxiety. This isn’t a traditional Greek wedding. Not the wedding I thought I would be having.
The anxiety probably would have been full-on panic, but Mother made me drink two whole glasses of champagne in quick succession. So now, I’m half panicked and half dazed.
The bit at the end looms, the bit I’ve been so worried about. The person carrying out our ceremony utters the words: You may kiss. My heart stutters, and l look at Damen. I half expect him to simply brush my cheek with dry lips. He doesn’t.
Damen takes my chin in his hand, tipping it up, and lowers his mouth to mine. He’s lips are warm, surprisingly soft, and like a tiny glimpse of heaven. It’s chaste. Brief. And it rocks my world.
I don’t take in much else. The alcohol and the high from the kiss serve to make the whole thing like a dream.
Finally, the ceremony ends, and Damen and I have to pose for photographs.
When I first saw him and Alesso standing there, I waited for my heart to do the odd jump at seeing Alesso, but it didn’t. Damen, though? He looks handsome in his suit. I can’t believe I didn’t notice his good looks before. He’s not as obviously gorgeous as Alesso, but he’s a very handsome man in his own right, and imposing too. Alesso is no slouch in the height and body stakes, but Damen has a few inches and quite a few pounds on him.
Whereas Alesso has the physique of a swimmer or a fitness model, Damen is built like a linebacker. I always thought I preferred my men cut and lean, but I’m starting to think how nice it would be to be wrapped in Damen’s massive arms, and made to feel all small and cared for.
Not something I get often with my height and figure.
After the vows are said, and rings are exchanged, and we drink a couple more glasses of champagne, the guys huddle making plans, while Mom and my aunty chat with me. I feel like such a bitch on my aunt, even though I never lied to her or betrayed her.
The whole thing is making me super uncomfortable, and I’m getting hot and sweaty in my dress. It’s stunning, but it’s not a breathable fabric or design. I blow a damp tendril of hair from my face and glance over to see Damen watching me. He says something to the men and breaks away.
He reaches me and pulls me away from my mother and aunt a little.
“You look tired; do you want to get out of here?” he asks.
I nod and lick my lips nervously. I don’t know what the hell to expect moving forward.
“We have flight tickets and a hotel room booked in Paris,” he tells me, and my stomach flip-flops. Paris? Wow.
“Alesso, Stamatis, and the guys will all go see Lefteris and say we got married in secret today, and sadly, the wedding to Yannis obviously has to be cancelled. Your uncle will pay Lefteris a shit ton of money to take the news well, and the guys will use whatever powers of subtle intimidation and persuasion they need to ensure there won’t be any fall out. However, Yannis is, as you know, a loose cannon, and we’ll have two of Stamatis’ men trailing us the whole way there. Not ones that Yannis or anyone else would recognize, though.”
“So, we’re going to Paris, but not alone?”
“Well, we will be alone in the sense of they won’t be chatting to us or seated by us, but they will follow at a close distance, and they have the room next to ours at the hotel. It’s for added protection. It’s highly unlikely anyone will know we’re going there, but it’s to keep you safe, Maya.”
I nod and swallow down a suddenly dry throat.
“They won’t tell Lefteris until we’re a couple of days into the honeymoon anyway, so that means even if he or Yannis wanted to find out where we were, by the time they did, we’d be heading back. In the meantime, the guys are going to clear out my family home.”
I stare at him, his words not making sense. “Sorry, your what?”
“I lost my yaya,” he says. I remember then, him alluding to it the day he bumped into us when we were having coffee.
His use of
the familiar Greek word for grandmother and the way he says it with real affection has my heart clenching for his loss.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him.
“She had a good life. I try to tell myself it’s best she didn’t suffer. Anyway, she left me the family home, in Vouliagmeni. I don’t go there often, don’t like the place, but it’s perfect for us to stay for the next few weeks or months. Alesso and Markos will move their things out there too, from the Kolonaki apartment.”
I can’t stop staring at him, but he’s saying things that don’t make sense. They have an apartment in Kolonaki? And Damen has a family home in Vouliagmeni? What the hell? How does a bodyguard, even an important one like Damen, afford to rent or buy a place in Kolonaki? And if his family has the sort of money to own a property in Vouliagmeni, why is he working as protection for my uncle?
Unless, the home is modest? In which case it will be a crush with all of us there. I decide it must be modest, because he wouldn’t be doing the sort of soul-destroying work he does unless out of necessity. Surely.
I’m about to ask him some more when my uncle comes to stand by us. “You made me proud today, my lovely niece, and I know Damen here is going to take good care of you over the next few days until you can come back home, and hopefully all the trouble will be over. Okay?”
He puts a heavy emphasis on the word know, and I bite back a smile.
“The men who are going with you are already at the airport. You’ll recognize them, Damen, when you see them at the gate. They’ve been instructed not to interact with you at all, but they’ll follow the two of you everywhere, and they are next to your room, of course. There are also the weapons you requested at the location we discussed, waiting for when you arrive in Paris. Have fun, you two.”
He starts to walk away, but then pauses and turns back, narrowing his eyes at Damen. “Not too much fun, though.”
