“That was priceless,” Lykos said, the corners of his lips tipped up into a hint of a smile, and my heart shuddered in my chest. Holy shit! The man was breathtaking when he smiled and I couldn’t help but want to see it again.
Maybe that would have been my purpose in life if it hadn’t been so cruel. Suddenly, visions of “what could have been” invaded my mind. Family mornings while sipping coffee. Kissing my man and children before he’d head out. Going to work, only to meet my man for lunch and maybe quick sex. Coming home to a happy family. Discussing our day during dinner, only to fall into bed and spend nights loving and being loved.
Yet, none of it was meant for me.
For the past ten years, I’d worked on suppressing my memories, desires, and wishes. I failed, of course, but I could at least bank on the other successes in my life driving me forward. My years were filled with work, work, and more work, longing and loneliness filling the minutes and hours in between. I took the cake on the therapist front, and it made me so hypocritical to advise others on how to deal with their trauma when I actively ignored my own.
Being here, so close to what I could have had, was both a blessing and a curse. Truth was, I was scared out of my damn mind. I was terrified of dealing with what had caused my sister’s demise, my father’s hate, and my role in it all.
“Violet.” Salvatore’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Tell us something about yourself.”
I forced a smile. “There isn’t much to tell.”
“I bet you have an exciting life,” Aria chimed in.
“Not really.” My smile felt off, but I kept it in place. “Are you Greek too, Salvatore?”
I needed to shift this conversation away from me, but judging by the men’s gazes, they saw right through me.
“No, I was born and raised in Malta.”
“Oh, that must be?—”
“I’d rather hear about you,” Salvatore drawled. “Where are you originally from?”
Not wanting to appear cagey, I had no choice but to respond. “Boston.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Salvatore purred. “I’ve heard of the Freuds. Your family is quite influential there.”
I shrugged, aware of Lykos’s dark gaze on me. “I suppose.”
Our family’s money dated back to the Gilded Age when my ancestor decided to invest into railroad construction and expansion. Unlike many others, my great-great-great-grandfather pulled out of it before its collapse and went on to invest in the next big thing. When it came to making money, luck was always on the side of Freud’s family and its sons.
Until it came to my grandfather, who only had a daughter.
My mom.
Freud’s wealth had always been a topic of discussion in my parents’ home and in Boston society in general. My father craved it, along with the power. Now that I was older, I was convinced it was one of the main reasons he married my mother. My grandfather must have thought the same because he ensured he couldn’t touch it.
Salvatore tapped his chin. “If I recall, your grandfather made quite the fuss, leaving you his entire fortune and effectively writing his daughter out of his will. Right?”
Dammit, how was he aware of that? He had to be the nosiest man on this planet. Besides, it was anyone’s guess, including my own, why my grandfather cut off his direct descendant and left everything to his only living granddaughter. Me.
I suspected it had something, if not everything, to do with my father, but I wasn’t going to discuss it with a random stranger.
“How did you two meet?” I asked instead.
“Uncle Salvatore was in Greece for the summer when he was a kid, and he and Dad clicked. They ran the streets and caused trouble,” Dimitros said with an eye roll. “So the story goes.”
Aria chimed in. “Papa saved Salvatore from a stalker girl.”
“And the rest is history,” Dimitros said.
“Now it’s my turn to return the favor and save him.” Salvatore beamed. “You’ll help me, Violet, won’t you?” The man was not subtle at all, and I couldn’t decide whether it was refreshing or not. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer, because he continued, “I’ll be here as a free babysitter, both to Aria and Dimitros, so you can help this subject in his early forties who desperately needs a second chance.”
The realization dawned on me, and I stammered, “You!”
Those were almost the same words in the note-slash-file that awaited me at the hotel when I arrived.
