Page 14 of Wicked Devotions
“Do you guys have house rules or anything? Guidelines for shared spaces?”
“Never have before. We just deal with each other.”
“I don’t know if that’ll work for me.”
“By all means, share your ideas with us.” I couldn’t hold back my smirk if I wanted to. “I’ll message the guys to let them know you’ll share your ideas over dinner.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry, Princess.”
Her lips flatten into an annoyed line. “That’s worse.”
I chuckle. “I’ll figure something out.”
She walks out of the room without giving me a response but giving me the best view I’ve seen in ages. My good mood immediately sours when I look down at my phone and see a message waiting frommy uncle. He wants me to meet him this afternoon in one of his warehouses. It’s never a good sign when he requests my presence.
“You’re late.”My uncle stands flanked by his right-hand man, Andreas, and his enforcer, Nicholas. He holds his hand out to me.
I take it, bowing and press his ring to my forehead as he makes everyone in the organization do. “Uncle Georgios.” I stand and take a step back. “I’m sorry. What do you need?”
It’s highly unusual for him to demand a meeting while I’m in America. He spends his time divided between here and Greece, but the deal he reached with my parents was that he wouldn’t request my assistance for anything while I was over here in school. I don’t know how they managed to get him to agree to that, but I’m grateful they did. It was the last thing they did before they tragically died on their yacht. I’m still not convinced my uncle wasn’t behind it.
His bushy, white eyebrows rise at my irritation and blatant disrespect. “Watch your tone when you speak to me.” He pulls a photo out of his pocket. “Ineed you to take care of this man. He fights in an illegal boxing ring in Atlanta. I’ve already gotten you in for a fight. Andreas will send you the address and time. Make sure he’s out of commission but do not take him down.”
“Done.” I turn to leave.
“Pretty new roommate you have.” The sinister threat braided through in his voice makes a chill run down my spine. “Better make sure our name stays clean.”
It lands exactly how he wants. My heart beats sluggishly as I continue back to my Ducati. I put my helmet on and gun the engine, putting miles between the family whose blood runs through my veins and the future I’m building.
I can’t say no to him yet. So many expectations were placed on me just because I was born with the last name Antoniou. Moving to a completely different continent didn’t help. Putting an entire ocean between us didn’t either. I keep thinking this is the last thing he’ll ask of me, but every time I turn around, he’s moved the goal post.
The only thing I care about is that my shit never touches Declan and Emerson. And now, by circumstance, Harper. Especially Harper. She’s likely beenthrough as much, if not more, than me. I wouldn’t put anything past her father.
It’s unnerving that my uncle already knows about her moving in with us. I’m going to have to be more careful about keeping an eye on the house. He’s clearly having me followed, and I’m not about to put up with that bullshit.
Chapter
Seven
HARPER
Twisting my body from one side to the other as I look in the mirror does nothing to settle the nerves rising within me. I have half an hour before Declan is driving me to campus for my first classes. College was something I didn’t think I’d get to experience, so on one hand I’m wildly excited for this. But on the other hand, I feel woefully unprepared. I was a marginally good student in high school, but I never tried hard, and my grades showed that.
At least I’m just taking general educationclasses. My stomach growls as I look down at my schedule for the hundredth time today. I spray on some perfume and grab my bag to head downstairs. Thankfully no one is in the kitchen, so I have a few more moments of peace while I fix a bagel and top it with peanut butter, honey, and banana.
“Tell me you’re not desecrating that bagel with peanut butter and banana.” Declan walks into the kitchen, his hard, northeastern accent shattering my quiet moment.
“There’s a drizzle of honey, too.” I put the other half on top, turning it into a sandwich. “My favorite breakfast.”
“Remind me to fly up north, so you can learn what a real bagel is,” he grumbles as he pops open an energy drink.
I watch in abject horror as he appears to pour it down his throat, his Adam’s apple only bobbing once to indicate he swallowed. His eyes never leave mine, twinkling with amusement at my reaction.