I glanced over my shoulder, already scowling. Salvatore swept past me like I wasn’t even there, his full attention fixed on Violet.
I had a very bad feeling about this.
“Please, come in,” he continued, gesturing grandly into the house as if he owned it. “My friend Lykos needs an intervention, and you’ll be the one to give it to him.”
“But she’s here for Mother,” Aria rushed out, her brows knitting together.
I’m going to kill that motherfucking, well-meaning bastard.
“Dimitros,” I snapped, “show Dr. Freud to the living room.” Dimitros straightened as he caught the edge in my tone. “Aria, go wait for me in your room.”
She opened her mouth—ready to argue, of course—but one look from me had her turning sharply on her heel, though not without a final, suspicious glance back at Violet.
“And you—” I shifted my gaze, pinning it directly on Salvatore and narrowing my eyes. “Let’s have a chat in my office, shall we?”
His grin only widened. That was never a good sign.
Before he had a chance to speak, I grabbed him by the bicep and hauled him away. He didn’t resist. He let himself be dragged like this was all part of his plan, lifting his free hand to wave cheerfully back at Violet.
“Lovely to meet you!” he called over his shoulder.
I didn’t stop until we were halfway down the hall, past the towering windows and into the private wing of the house. My office loomed at the end, its solid oak door promising safety.
I shoved it open, dragged him inside, and slammed it shut behind us with enough force to shake the walls.
ELEVEN
LYKOS
The hinges hadn’t even finished rattling before I was on my best friend.
“What the fuck did you do?” My tone carried a low, deadly quality. Usually, people shit themselves when they were the recipients of it; Salvatore didn’t even flinch.
If anything, the bastard looked entertained.
He adjusted his cuffs like we were about to discuss business over whiskey instead of the fact that he’d just brought the one woman who could break me directly to my front door.
“I arranged help,” he said lightly, glancing around my office as if admiring it. He’d been here hundreds of times and knew every inch of it almost as well as I did. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
My fist slammed onto the mahogany desk. Papers jumped. A glass tipped and shattered on the floor.
“Don’t play games with me.”
He rolled his eyes, his expression sharp despite his casual posture.
“Violet Freud,” I continued, each syllable cut from steel, “is in my house.” I stepped closer, crowding his space. “Around my children. AroundAria.”
Salvatore tilted his head, studying me seriously.
“Aria needs her,” he murmured. “So do you. Again, you’re welcome, buddy.”
My jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “It’s my fucking life. I’m not your experiment, and neither is my family.”
He exhaled slowly, then leaned casually against my desk, crossing his arms.
“You’ve been living like a ghost for a decade, Lykos.” I opened my mouth to object, but he added, “Actually, no, make that seventeen years, because it started before Dimitros was born.”
“I’ve been running a business,” I protested. “Unlike you, I don’t have a lot of time on my hands. My parents are dead. There aren’t too many people I trust to leave my children with.”
