She smiles widely. “Thank you, dear.”
I turn to nod my chin at the painting I saw earlier. “Is thatactuallyNymphéas?”
Dimitra nods, sighing to herself. “What can I say? It was an indulgence on my part. I’ve always loved Monsieur Monet's work, and this one in particular was always a favorite.”
I grin. “Of mine, too.”
She smiles and pats my hand before turning to Achilles. “My Achilles helped me settle on this one when it and a few others came up for auction this summer.”
I turn to him, arching a brow. “And here I thought you were just a dumb jock.”
He gives me a look that liquifies my insides as Dimitra lets out a huge laugh.
“Come meet my family.” She takes my hand, her eyes twinkling. “And then, we eat.”
Luckily, I’m not meeting theentireDrakos family tonight. This dinner is just Ya-ya, Achilles and me, his parents, and his sister. But you’d think I was about to give a speech to a crowd of thousands, the way I tense up when we walk into the dining room to say hello to the legendary Ares Drakos and Neve Kildare.
For a start, they’re one of the most formidable mafia power couples in New York. But also, my father is part of a partnership that still hasn’t officially said theywon’tbe building a skyscraper to loom over this gorgeous home.
That said, though, the second they see me, they stand, smiling broadly, along with an auburn-haired girl who looks a little younger than me.
“Yelena!” Neve beams as she walks over and gives me a big, warm hug. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I blush as we pull apart. “You have?”
“No, actually,” she grins, turning to glare at her son before prodding him in the chest. “This sneaky little shit has been trying to keep you a secret.”
Achilles rolls his eyes. “Mom, Yelena. Yelena, Neve. There. No more secrets.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I smile as she rolls her eyes at her son.
But also, holy shit, what the hell is this woman’s skincare routine? Achilles’ age alone puts Neve at fortyat least. But the fit, gorgeous redhead standing in front of me could easily pass for ten years younger.
She steps aside, and suddenly I’m getting a sneak peek of future Achilles.
“Yelena,” Ares murmurs in a deep, resonant baritone as he shakes my hand. “It’s good to meet the woman who’s captured my son’s full attention.”
Good lord, he seriously looksjustlike Achilles, just twenty-five-ish years older. He’s tall and athletically slim and muscled, with the same dark hair and eyes as his son. Same jawline, too.
“It’s good to meet you too, Mr.—”
“Nope,” he chuckles, the laughsomuch like his son’s. “Mr. Drakos is either for people who work for me, or for my father. And he was a prick. So…” He winks at me. “Just Ares, please.”
I grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ares.”
He sighs. “Let’s go ahead and address the twenty-story elephant in the room, yeah?” Ares chuckles. “Yelena, I do not for a second direct any ire atyoufor the prospective construction project next to this building. You are not your father.” He shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t blame Nero for any of this either. Business is business, and business with bullheaded partners like Angelo Santoro present unique challenges.” He shakes his head. “So don't worry about it. I promise, all I want tonight is to get to know you and decide if you’re allowed to date my son.”
I blink.
Ares grins. “That was a joke, by the way.”
Neve groans. “Jokes arefunny, ass,” she sighs, playfully punching his arm.
“Yeah, Dad, that was cringe.”
The auburn-haired girl who steps forward, rolling her eyes at her father, is a perfect blend of her parents.
“Iris, hi,” she grins before giving me a quick hug. “So, you’re able to stand my brother for longer than five minutes at a time?”
