Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to be so smug about it,” she sasses from the passenger seat.
I reach over and grip her silky, tanned thigh just below the hem of her sparkly navy dress. “About what, zoí mou?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t push my hand away. I smirk as I pull into the driveway at my father’s estate. Aris’s gray 911 GT2 RS sits parked crooked in front of the six-bay garage. It makes me want to park close enough that Talia’s door dings the car he adores. In the end, I’m an adult and choose to park directly behind him instead to block him in.
“Close enough?” Talia asks, laughing.
“He worships that stupid Porsche. He’s lucky I don’t do worse just to fuck with him.”
She simply smirks and climbs out. I follow after her, drinking in how goddamn hot she is today. After being on site all day, she’d scrubbed away the grime, ditched the jeans, and dolled up for me. Her long blond locks hang in messy beach waves down her back, nearly coming to her ass that has my full attention. The dress is just short enough on her long legs to seem risqué. I’m torn between wanting her to change and demanding she bend over so I can see what color panties she’s wearing.
I do neither because Aris steps out to greet us. One look at the proximity of my car and the murderous scowl on his face is enough to send satisfaction thrumming through me. My pleasure at his annoyance is cut short when he rakes his gaze up and down my wife. She stalls to a stop. I prowl up behind her and wrap a possessive arm around her middle.
Aris, the little bitch, laughs. “Calm down, killer. I wasn’t checking out your wife. I was thinking she and Selene must have shopped at the same boutique for their dresses.”
Selene?
Who the fuck is Selene?
As though on cue, a redhead with fat lips and wide green eyes clacks over to Aris in her high heels. She’s wearing a navy dress as well, but unlike Talia’s classy one, Selene’s looks to be painted on her curvy body. And it looks like they missed some paint on her big tits.
“Kostas, this is my girl, Selene,” Aris introduces. “Selene, that’s my brother, and his wife, Talia.”
Selene offers her hand. Talia politely shakes it, but I don’t offer my hand, just a nod of my head. Gingers aren’t usually my brother’s type—blondes are—but I can’t say I’m complaining. Maybe he’s moving on from eye-fucking my wife all the time, something I’m glad to see.
“How’s Father?” I grunt out as I usher Talia past them.
“Chipper as fuck. You know Dad.” Aris’s dry, sarcastic tone has Selene giggling at his humor.
Ignoring her annoying laugh, I guide Talia into the house I grew up in. Since my mother died, I’ve tried not to get caught up in the emotions and memories. I stay singularly focused when I visit. Make sure Father is cared for and doesn’t hurt for anything.
I find Father seated in the dining room. Despite the pain meds he’s been on since the accident, he still remains sharp and aware. He watches us enter, irritation marring his features. I’ve avoided bringing Talia here because Father has no problem in telling me how much he despises her and her family. And while I can tune it out, I don’t want to see how his words might affect her.
“Good evening,” I greet, nodding to him.
Talia clutches my hand like a lifeline. I guide her to a seat and pull out the chair. Once she’s settled, I take a seat between her and Father. Aris escorts Selene to the other side of the table, planting her beside Father, and then sitting across from Talia, much to my aggravation.
“We’re in beautiful company tonight,” Father says, turning his smile on for Selene’s benefit.
Aris straightens, seemingly surprised and simultaneously proud that Father approves of his flavor of the week. “I certainly agree,” Aris says, offering our father a smile.
I simply grunt. Talia is hot as fuck. Selene is a cheap wannabe who won’t last until Saturday. She’s insignificant to the Demetrious.
Before dinner starts, Father asks us to say a small prayer for our mother. I bow my head and try not to let her absence claw at my heart. His words float through the air, but I don’t hear them. Talia clutches my thigh and squeezes. I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her skin.
At first, dinner is polite and conversational. We steer away from Father’s “condition” even though I can tell Talia is curious. Talia sucks down the wine nearly as fast as Aris and Selene. I keep my eye on the clock, waiting for the moment we can wrap up and bail. Things between my father and me are strained. His power and influence have waned, and in his inability to lead, I’ve been forced to take over all aspects of the Demetriou business. It pisses him off, but there’s nothing he can do about it.