Andrea pov
My temper was still simmering, barely kept in check after dealing with some lowlife who thought he could push heroin in my fucking city. Normally, scums like that didn't even deserve my time, but tonight, I wanted to make it crystal clear: Vancouver was mine, and anyone who dared mess with that would pay.
I held a glass of champagne, though it did little to cool my mood. Spotting a server, I signaled, and he rushed over, his hands visibly trembling. Well, It didn't take a genius to feel the weight of my impatience.
"Whiskey," I ordered flatly. Within moments, a tumbler of amber liquid was placed before me. I took a light gulp, feeling the familiar sharp burn of the whiskey, my mind couldn't help drifting back to the young woman who'd soon be a part of this family.
Tatiana Drakatos.
She sat a few seats down the table, angled away from me, her icy avoidance almost undetectable—except that I noticed. The corners of my mouth lifted in distaste. Soon enough, she'd realize that her cold act wouldn't matter at all. As head of the family, she was my responsibility, whether she liked it or not.
At twenty-one, she was very ripe for marriage. She had no idea what she was in for. I'd already decided on an arrangement for her, a suitable marriage that would tie her to our family's interests. There was no point in indulging the cries of a spoiled girl, especially not one fifteen years younger than me.
I sipped the whiskey and remembered her earlier reaction—how she'd refused to shake my hand, scowling at it like it was poison. It was a foolish move. But, admittedly, it took guts. Stupid, but brave.
My aunt, Athina's voice broke through my thoughts. "Andrea , have you heard from Christos?"
"Yes," I replied shortly, barely hiding my boredom with the conversation. "He'll be at the wedding."
"And where will he stay?" my father added, looking at me with a slight frown.
"He's family. He'll stay here, of course." Honestly, I couldn't care less about the wedding details; my mind was on other important business.
Across the table, I saw Tiana lean toward her mother. "Where's the restroom?" she asked quietly.
"Down the hallway, second door on the right," Helena replied. Tiana rose, purposefully avoiding my side of the table and taking the long way around. I watched her until she disappeared down the hall, catching the soft swish of her dress, which fit a little too well. Her figure was… distracting, and I hated myself a bit for even noticing.
When she returned, I found my eyes trailing her, studying her like a predator sizing up its prey. Her skin was fair, a kind of creamy alabaster, and her dark hair cascaded in soft waves around her face. Her curves filled out her dress just right, and for a fleeting moment, I felt a strange kind of irritation mixed with fascination.
Our eyes met briefly as she took her seat, and she narrowed her gaze when she caught me looking. She didn't back down, though—a flicker of defiance sparked in those golden-brown eyes of hers.
"Again, brave but stupid," I thought, smirking slightly as I took another sip from the glass of whiskey.
The silence between us was thick, but it didn't bother me. I thrived on tension; fear was my weapon of choice. In my world, fear and respect were the foundations of power. Without them, you were nothing more than a pawn, and Tiana would learn that soon enough.
As the meal went on, I noticed she barely engaged in any conversation, her expression distant as they discussed the upcoming wedding. When someone mentioned yellow bridesmaid dresses, she visibly cringed, making me smirk. Without missing a beat, I leaned toward her and muttered, "You don't agree?"
She blinked, startled by my closeness, but quickly masked it, her gaze hardening. "I didn't say anything," she replied curtly.
"You didn't have to. The look on your face said plenty." I smirked, amused by her stubbornness.
"Oh, so now you're an expert on facial expressions?" she shot back, lifting her chin.
"Yes," I replied smoothly, leaning back. "It's part of what makes me good at my job."
She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she returned her attention to her dessert. Her defiance amused me, and I leaned a little closer, whispering in Greek, "Pas gyrévontas Gia mpeládes."
She stiffened, her eyes immediately snapping to mine. "My Greek's a bit rusty," she said, voice laced with defiance. "Translate?"
I chuckled, my gaze darkening. "It means you're looking for trouble."
She narrowed her eyes, a flicker of unease slipping through her controlled expression. "Is this how it's going to be?" she muttered under her breath, barely above a whisper. "You're going to threaten me every chance you get?"
I offered her a slow, cold smile. "Stop disrespecting me, and I'll stop with the threats." My tone was calm, as if we were discussing the weather, but the underlying edge was clear. She needed to understand that I didn't tolerate defiance. Others had suffered much worse for something far less.
She held my gaze a bit longer, then sighed, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Fine. It's not like we have to see each other after the wedding, anyway." She paused, eyes glinting with irritation. "Let's just agree to ignore each other until then."
I couldn't help but chuckle, the sound low and amused. The rest of the table turned to look at me, curious, but I ignored them, pushing back my chair and standing up. I adjusted my jacket, looking down at her. "As entertaining as this has been, I have a meeting to attend," I announced, my tone dismissive. Then, glancing between her and our parents, I added, "I'll leave it to them to explain how things will work after the wedding. Don't want any… unpleasant misunderstandings."
I nodded at my father and Helena, then strode out of the dining room, imagining the moment Tiana would realize just how deeply she was tied to this family now. A small, satisfied smirk played on my lips as I walked away. She had no idea what she'd just stepped into.