Page 10 of Deceptive Vows
I noted the slight thickening at his left ankle—concealed weapon—and the deliberate distance he maintained. Power radiated from him, his frame built from discipline rather than vanity. I suspected the prolonged stay in Brazil as a younger man and extensive Brazilian Jiujitsutraining had something to do with that. He wasn't someone to underestimate in close quarters.
“My brother is expecting you. If you’ll follow me.”
Ari led us to a private room at the far end of the restaurant. A carved wooden door opened into an intimate and imposing space. A desk occupied the center with three high-backed chairs upholstered in rich leather, one behind and two facing it. A dark leather couch stood to the right, and floor-to-ceiling, book-lined shelves. No visible cameras. One door, presumably leading to a private exit.
To the left of the desk stood a man with dark hair and a commanding presence. The eldest Kalantzis.
“Welcome to Lykos.” His sharp gaze flicked between us, assessing with the thoroughness of someone accustomed to spotting threats.
The disappointment that she was absent sank into my bones. It should have set off alarm bells, but none did.
Pasha shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kalantzis.”
“Lucas, please.” Henodded to the man standing slightly behind and to the left of him. “This is my brother Dimitris.”
Dimitris inclined his head, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp, as though he missed nothing.
Lucas waved to the chairs across from him. “Could I get you something to drink? We stock a few worthy vodkas.”
Pasha nodded as we took our seats. “That would be most gracious.”
Ari stepped out of the room and returned with a bottle of Russian Standard. Not top shelf, but traditional. My personal favorite.
“Not the most expensive, but I’ve found it to be the best tasting,” Lucas said as Ari set glasses in front of us and poured.
“Da.” Pasha smiled. “My father’s favorite.” He looked at me. “His father’s as well. Thank you.” He took a generous sip.
I lifted mine in a toast. “Za zdoróvie! To health!”
“To health.” Lucas drained his glass, then set it down. His expression shifted, business replacing courtesy. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, tell me about the plans Marco has for my family.”
The brothers exchanged a brief glance. Pashawould need to deliver this delicately. We didn’t know each other. Knowing the bad blood between Marco and Lucas, this meeting had the potential to go sideways quickly.
Pasha’s voice remained calm and measured. “We met with him earlier today.”
Lucas’s lips twitched, his gaze sharpening. His hand tightened almost imperceptibly on the edge of the desk. “Did you now?”
“Da. At a rundown bar in a small town two hours west of Chicago.”
A flicker of something dark passed through Lucas’s expression before it smoothed. Dimitris shifted his weight slightly, tension entering his frame. The temperature in the room seemed to drop by several degrees.
“Interesting." Lucas kept his voice carefully controlled.
"He asked for my help with security—for a live auction. Women and girls, to be exact.”
“That tracks with our intelligence,” Lucas murmured. He exchanged a glance with Dimitris, who gave a subtle nod. “But he’s careful these days.”
Pasha met Lucas’s gaze. “My organization has no involvement inthat line of work; however, that wasn't the sole purpose of the meeting.”
Technically true. Pasha had burned the last group we found doing it. But it wasn’t just business—it was personal. That kind of rot didn’t belong under our roof.
Lucas tilted his head. "Continue."
“He wanted us to approach you, feign a desire for an alliance, and offer a marriage to your sister to seal it. He then wanted us to take out your entire family.”
Lucas’s smile fell away. The edge of his jaw tightened. “I see, and in return for murdering my family, you were offered?” His voice carried a razor-sharp undertone.
“Part of your territory.”
