My eyebrow darts up. My jaw goes slack. For a moment, I can only shake my head like an idiot that’s lost the ability to speak.
Shit.
This is how it all starts. They’re expecting me to become a mafia princess. I’ve seen what that entails.
No freedom. Arranged marriages. Abuse.
My chest tightens, and I feel claustrophobic because I know the demands will keep coming until I have zero control left over my life.
Until I’m swallowed whole by the mafia.
Finally, I find my voice. “What if I don’t have time for social events? My studies take up all of my free time, and I’ll only get busier as exams approach.” I suck in a breath of air, hoping I can negotiate my way out of this. “And I’m either at home or on campus, so I really think guards won’t be needed.”
Peter scoots his chair back, and as he rises to his feet, his eyes are filled with disapproval and warning. “It’s not negotiable, Theresa. You’ll do as you’re told.”
I’m gaping as he leaves the dining room, with Basil following short on his heels, which leaves Athina, Mom, and me at the table.
Slowly, I turn my shocked gaze to my mother. She gives me an encouraging smile. The kind I used to get whenever Irene hurt me and Mom thought I broke an arm or rib because I was clumsy. It’s not Mom’s fault for thinking that, seeing as I didn’t dare tell anyone what Irene was doing to me.
It has the memories I fought hard to bury creeping through the cracks, and for a moment, I’m thrown off balance. It threatens to drag me back to the past, to a dark time where sorrow and fear were my only companions.
Taking a couple of deep breaths, I try to ignore the cold sweat breaking out over my body and the tremor in my hands. I just need to get this conversation over with so I can go back to my apartment.
“Mamá.” Shaking my head, I fist my hands on either side of the plate of uneaten baklava, so Mom won’t notice they’re trembling.
“We’re not asking a lot, agápi mou,” Mom says, her tone gentler.
“I can do Sunday lunches every other weekend,” I try to find some middle ground. “But guards twenty-four-seven? Social events?”
“Stop, Theresa!” Two spots of pink stain her cheeks. “You’re embarrassing me.”
I blink a couple of times, my eyes dancing over Mom’s face as I try to bring my point across. “You know how busy I am with my studies, and I don’t do well with social events. Never mind having two strange men following me around like shadows and being in my personal space.”
“It won’t be that bad,” Athina adds her two cents. “At most, we usually only attend one social event a month.”
Oh.
Some relief trickles into my chest. I can manage one event a month. I’ll just stick to Athina’s side and use her as a buffer between Nikolas and me.
She gives me a comforting smile. “You don’t have to socialize with people, Tess. We’ll just make an appearance.”
“You’ll grow accustomed to it. After a while, it won’t be disruptive anymore.” Mom rises from her chair, and I have to tilt my head back to look up at her. “Soon, we’ll be a part of the Stathoulis family. It’s the way things are done.”
Mom has always supported my independence. If anything, she’s encouraged it. Now she’s starting to take it away from me?
Once I give in, they’ll just expect more and more of me until I have nothing left to give. That’s how the mafia works.
Gripping hold of my shoulders, Mom pulls me up into a quick hug. “It won’t be as bad as you think. Try to be accommodating for me.”
Like I had to be accommodating when we lived with Uncle Kostas and Irene for years because Mom couldn’t stand on her own two feet? It almost killed me back then, and I’m sure it will definitely kill me if I’m sucked into the mafia.
I have to think about this bomb that’s been dropped on me. Acting irrationally won’t help me one bit.
“I have to work on the screenplay we’ve been given to write.” Pressing a kiss to Mom’s cheek, I force a compliant smile to my face. “Thank you for dinner. Are we still on for our spa date next week?”
“Of course! I need to get my nails done for the wedding.”
Glancing at Athina, I keep the smile in place. “It was nice meeting you.”
Walking out of the dining room, I force my chin up. I hear Peter and Basil’s voices drifting from somewhere in the house, and not bothering to say goodbye, I make a beeline for the front door. I climb into the back of the SUV that was sent to collect me from my apartment.