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Chapter One
Kassandra
“Wine?”
I nodded politely, taking a glass off the tray. Antonio reached for one beside me and at the same time his hand slid down the bare skin of my back. I stilled just as his palm found a resting place on the cusp of my ass, toeing the line of going too far and just far enough. I was wise enough to know not to react.
Without him, I wouldn’t be here.
Antonio Vitale was one of the most infamous mafia bosses in Europe. He was rich, powerful, and used to getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. And tonight, not only was he my sole connection to Markos Varela, he was also my date.
I took a sip of the wine, smiling innocently in Antonio’s direction. His eyes, dark and possessive, slid over to mine, leaving no question in my mind that he wanted to fuck me. And soon. If I wasn’t careful, he’d drag me off into another room and take exactly what he wanted. I’d have to tread carefully. I may be deep undercover, but I had standards.
“This is delicious,” I said softly, breaking the silence.
“Markos provides only the best at his gatherings. Right from his very own vineyard. This port here is probably well over a hundred years old,” Antonio answered, as his fingers edged a bit lower on my ass.
Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. I’d have to figure out how to deal with his boldness. Soon.
All around me, the rich, the powerful, and the glamorous talked in hushed tones, decked to the nines in the most lavish and expensive gowns and tuxedos that money could buy. My own dress had cost several thousand dollars, or at least, it had cost Interpol that much. Sleek blue satin encased my every curve, leaving little to the imagination, much to Antonio’s delight. The gown flared out once it passed my knees, making it simple to conceal a gun on my ankle. I’d chosen it for that very reason.
I not only had to look the part, I had to play the part, and that included working with Antonio. He couldn’t figure out that I wasn’t interested in him. Not yet anyway.
Leaning in toward him, I carefully pressed the length of my body against his. The art of flirtation was one I knew well, and I had Antonio right where I wanted him. He thought he was in control, but it was really the complete opposite. He was chasing me, not the other way around and I aimed to keep that way.
“It’s so beautiful,” I whispered as I looked off the verandah, the sea breeze ruffling my long chocolate-brown waves.
The sun was just setting on the horizon, and the explosion of colors in the sky was breathtaking. The view of the Mediterranean was one of the best in Europe and I yearned to dig my toes into the soft, white sandy beach far below. The islands of Greece were stunning, but Mykonos was the most exquisite. I was really lucky to be here.
Relaxation wasn’t the purpose of my visit here though. I was here for Markos Valera. I knew basic information about him, like the fact that he was one of the richest billionaires in Europe, with extensive business dealings all around the world. Most were legal, from what I could tell, but there were a few clues that had suggested some of them were only quasi-legal or flat out against the law. But Interpol could never even get close, at least till now. Not until me.
I felt myself being pulled to see more, to investigate the dark corners and off-limits rooms here in his villa. I wanted to discover his every secret and expose him for the criminal I knew him to be. But still, I had to be careful. I needed to remember he was extremely dangerous.
I had to get out of here. I had to know more.
“I’m going to go to the ladies’ room. Be right back,” I whispered in Antonio’s ear. He took a hold of my hand and lifted my fingers to his lips, brushing a kiss across my knuckles. Keeping up with the image I’d carefully cultivated, I dropped my eyes demurely, giggling softly and he grinned. Fooled.
“Don’t be gone too long, Kassandra, or else I’ll miss you,” he said, his voice purring with a seductive promise.
“I won’t,” I said, as my hand lingered on his.
Finally, I turned away, pleased with how I had him eating out of my hand. Flirtation went a long way with Antonio, and I was playing the part perfectly.
I ventured inside the villa, my eyes roaming the pristine white walls and soft Grecian features. Whomever Markos had as an interior designer had spent some serious time collecting ancient pottery, upholsteries, and art from long ago. The entire place spoke of old money, but I knew literally nothing about his family history. It was as though it was erased from every record imaginable. He was a total mystery.
At the end of the long corridor, just past the restroom, was a beautifully designed stone staircase that led downstairs to a lower level I hadn’t even known existed. Once I was around the corner, I cautiously slipped off my shoes, kneeling down and picking them off the floor before I continued.
Venturing down into the depths of the villa, I tiptoed into a large sitting room. At the center was a small blue and white tiled fountain, which was surrounded by soft fabric lounges. Decorative pillows were strewn about the chaises and on the floor, completing the picture of an extravagant little den. I spotted a few doors on the opposite side of the room and continued my explorations. They were all locked, but I was prepared for that.
One of the doors was particularly extravagant, carved with intricate vines and roses. It drew me to it first. Slipping a bobby pin from my hair, I made quick work of the lock, twisting and turning the little piece of metal before I heard the telltale click of victory. Quietly, I opened the door and snuck inside, finding myself in a much more ancient wing of the home. The walls were made of stone, like those of a castle or an old fort. I pressed my fingers against the wall, feeling the hard, cool surface. My breath was unsteady, nervous. Continuing on, I found a number of old rooms, but only one in particular drew my attention.
It was a records room. Bookcases stacked with volumes of books, parchments, boxes, and piles of old papers lined the walls. In the center was a massive wooden table, strewn with what looked like old scrolls of papyrus. I ventured closer, scanning the documents there. All I found was some mention of old family trees and some nonsense about a warrior of light and the end of the world.
Maybe it was research into a myth of some kind? Maybe he was one of those people who liked collecting apocalypse artifacts. I didn’t know, but it wasn’t really my concern. I needed to find some information about his current business dealings, not this. Something that would put him behind bars.
I placed my high-heeled shoes down on the table and continued my search,
tiptoeing around the room in my bare feet.
Upon perusing the books and boxes lining the shelves, I found nothing like what I was looking for. There were an incredible number of books about all manner of Greek history, and more about whatever this warrior of light was. None of it provided any sort of useful information.
Chewing my lip, I gave one last cursory look around the room, finding nothing of consequence. I was just about to reach for the door handle and leave the room when I heard the brush of a footstep in the hall outside.
Fuck.
I couldn’t get caught down here.
Where could I hide?
In the back of the room was a small wooden door that was only about waist high. I grabbed my heels, sprinted toward it, opened it, and quickly shimmied inside as noiselessly as I could. It was storage closet of some kind, maybe an old cellar or something, but I didn’t really pay it much mind. Instead, I waited, listening to the sounds around me.
