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The crowd parted like water for the men to approach. I held my ground, not moving a muscle. Claude fidgeted terribly, but my father could have been stone. As I considered them from my peripheral, the difference was striking. The Drakos men, fiends though they might be, evoked respect and even reverence. Something neither my father nor my brother could manage.
The Drakos men stopped fifteen feet before us. I nearly laughed. It was such a subtle power play!
A warning rippled through the crowd, as if everyone was preparing for blows to fly. After a breathless handful of heartbeats, my father clenched his fists and took a step forward. Claude followed, and I trailed behind, protected by their bodies but not blocked from view.
The butcher and his cousin didn’t move a muscle as we approached. This was such a tactical error. If we were as powerful as we wanted to appear, we should have stayed put. But in the most subtle of ways, Constantine Drakos had just won the first round.
All I could hope was that my father had a plan. Perhaps, by making Drakos think we were weaker and submissive to his summons, we could cause the butcher to drop his guard slightly. I let out a long, silent breath. I trusted my father to know what he was doing.
“Mr. Drakos, it is good to be here.” My father didn’t make the mistake of showering him with some fake term of endearment like ‘son’ or ‘Constantine.’ It was smart, calculated. “We applaud your hospitality. May tonight be the start of a new chapter for our families—the slate wiped clean and our bridges mended for the prosperity to come.”
There was a moment where the butcher looked down his aquiline nose at my father, but then he said, “It is only fitting to do right by such a momentous occasion. Such a lovely prize as your daughter deserves a fairytale ending.” Drakos slid his piercing gaze to mine.
I thought I was prepared, but my heart betrayed me by squeezing tight in my chest. My dress was suddenly too constricting. The interior of my shoes became slick with sweat. It was all I could do not to tremble. This smuggler killed without remorse—and I was willingly walking right into the pirate’s lair!
To become his widow. The words were a lifeline. I chanted them over and over. From white to black—that was the plan. Simple.
“You’ve signed the contract of sale for the Beech Grove development?” Although the butcher spoke to my father, his cold words were directed at me. He was letting me know exactly what I was: a piece of exchanged property.
The foul, misogynistic bastard!
“The papers were delivered late,” my father observed coolly.
“They were signed for on time,” the other Drakos objected. “What your receptionist did between signing and delivering is not our concern.”
How dare he!I bit my tongue, but I couldn’t help shooting mental daggers at the man. The damn lawyer and his jargon had no place here. Civility should have dictated a more acceptable response.
“We want the sale sooner.” Claude stuck out his bottom lip, angrily chomping his teeth together.
Oh, stupid,stupid! Couldn’t my brother see this was a pissing match, not a business negotiation?
“You’ll have the development when I have my promised payment.” The butcher was still watching me with that shrewd, icy stare.
I refused to give him the satisfaction of squirming. It was the reaction he was looking for. I arched a brow, daring him to make his next move.
My father placated the situation with a string of words, but Drakos cut him off. “I’ll have a moment now with my intended,” he intoned. “I have a question I want to ask her.”
Without waiting for my father’s response, the butcher took three steps forward, brazenly brushing past my male relatives.
My father’s guttural protest was met with the Drakos cousin stepping into his space. “It’s an important question, Papa Beaumont. Best let the lovebirds be.”
There was no time to focus on their standoff as a firm hand grasped my upper arm. Spinning me around, the butcher pulled me toward the patio. I managed to set my drink down but kept hold of my clutch.
For some unknown reason, I didn’t stumble. His touch had me off balance. I swore electricity flared where our skin connected. Something burst in my stomach, and it wasn’t snakes. Wings, perhaps? This reaction was a paradox, as was the man leading me away. His touch was gentle, yet his body was dominating. It caused a warm confusion to wash through me as we pushed through the crowd of guests.
