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"No."
Ivan's attempt to have me and my brothers killed was a violation of the truce between us. Because my uncle was also a party to that truce, it was considered an act of war against the entireÁdis Adelfótita.
Dimitri is now enjoying my uncle's hospitality. Thepakhanwants his son back and he does not want full out conflict with my uncle.
He offered Ivan's head as a peace offering. My uncle told him I planned to take it anyway and if thepakhandidn't want me to keep killing after thevtoroy'sdeath, he had better offer something else to guarantee peace.
Whatever he offered satisfied theNonós tis Nýchtasand my uncle told me to leave Russia after killing Ivan.
In the past, I might have argued, but I need to get back to my fiancée.
Such a beautiful word, but I like wife even better.
Getting her in touch with her mother should have waited though. The older woman immediately contacted my own mother and they are insisting on a huge Italian-Greek wedding with traditions from both sides being honored.
Lucia told them they have two months to plan the wedding. She refuses to waddle down the aisle heavily pregnant. Her words, not mine.
Determined mothers, with the force of two powerful syndicates behind them, could probably plan Armageddon in sixty days. The ostentatious Christmas wedding they have dreamed up is a piece of cake for them.
The woman packs quickly and efficiently and we are flying back to the U.S. before Ivan's cooling body is even found.
LUCIA
I wake up from a restless sleep to see Atlas undressing in the dim light spilling from the open bathroom doorway.
With each piece of clothing he drops to the floor, more of the assassin melts away to be replaced by the man that only I see when we are alone. Even around his brothers, there is something of Dímios in him.
It's why they hadn't heard him whistle since childhood.
He's whistling softly now. That must be what woke me. Or my body is so attuned to his presence that it pulled me out of sleep.
I sit up and smile at him. "When are you going to expand your repertoire to something from this century?"
The soft notes of "My Girl" accompany him across the room until he sings the last line in his panty melting baritone. Since I'm not wearing panties, my thighs get slick with my juices.
He puts one knee onto the bed. "Tell me what song you want me to whistle, and I'll learn it for you."
"I have something better for you to do with your mouth." I pull him down to me.
Delight shimmers to the depth of my soul as he blankets me with his heavy, muscled body and shows me he knows exactly what I'm talking about.
THE END
