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I’ve been foolish to think I could just push these feelings away; pretend they didn’t exist.
I love him, and nothing can change that. Not the distance, not the silence, not even the fear that Andrew might be watching.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, my body shaking with sobs.
Dion pulls out and his strong arms wrap around me.
“It’s okay, astéri mou,” he murmurs softly. “I’ve got you.”
45
ANDREW
Fucking bastard!” I shout, pounding my fist on the top of my desk. I run a hand through my hair and exhale a deep breath.
“When was the will changed?” I ask the Kastellanos’ lawyer, Haris, over the phone.
“A few months ago,” he replies, sounding nervous.
Son of a bitch.
“Philip never told me he changed it.” I grind my teeth. Anger simmers beneath my skin.
“It wasn’t him,” Haris admits.
My head slings back in surprise. I turn around to face the window—I’m this close to throwing my desk through the glass.
“Then who the fuck was it?” I grit out.
I hear Haris gulping. “His son.”
Motherfucker.
Philip is now dead—the idiot getting caught in his plan to kidnap Angelica, Evander Vasilakis’s wife. I had advised him to steer clear of her, that it was a terrible idea to go after a Godfather’s wife. But the stubborn old man decided to ignore me. And now he’s gone.
I heard through the grapevine that he was killed when his underground safe house got ambushed, but I was spared the details. Not that I didn’t want them. There was just no one left to give them. All his men were slaughtered in the crossfire.
Hence why I’m now on the phone with his lawyer.
I was promised control. Promised the clan, the reinstating of my family in the Godfather circle.
Philip had assured me that Dimitri wouldn’t be a problem. But he fucking lied.
I growl in frustration. “And you didn’t think to let me know?”
“I-I couldn’t. They threatened my family. They hurt me. I couldn’t take the chance,” Haris stammers, his voice filled with fear.
“Who the fuck is “they,” Haris?” I bark.
“D-Dimitri and his counterpart, Mr. Loukas.”
I still. Dion fucking Loukas. The thorn in my side.
“So, why are you telling me now? Are they not going to kill you for informing me?”
“N-not if-if they don’t find out,” he stutters, and he might as well kill himself now before I find him.
“They might not. But that doesn’t keep you safe from me, maláka,” I spit, before hanging up.
