KNIVES AND HEARTSTRINGS

"Are you absolutely sure you want to spend your vacation in Greece?" my mother asked, her brow furrowed in concentration as she took her time, folding one of my blouses and placing it into the open suitcase.

"Yes, Mama." I replied without looking up, focusing on carefully tucking a bag of my absolute favorite snack-Flamin' Hot Lays-into my carry-on. "Mykonos is quiet. Peaceful. And after the stress I've faced with Baba for the last two years, peace is what I need right now."

My headache made an unwelcome appearance at the mere thought of last night's argument with my father. Eight years shadowing him, two years as COO, and yet he acted like taking a vacation was a betrayal. My father treated ambition like a battlefield, and I was his faithful soldier, expected to march without rest.

Mama sighed, pulling me out of my thoughts, "I just think Greece is too far away. Why not go to Canada instead? I looked it up, and there's a fantastic gyros spot in Toronto."

"Gyros?" I asked, trying to hold back my laughter. "Mama, the gyros in Mykonos will blow Canada's out of the water. Trust me."

She ignored my comment, turning her worried gaze to the bag of Lays in my hands. "Do you really need to take those?" she asked. "You'll ruin your stomach, agapoula."

I smirked. "It's just a little spice Mama. I need it to keep up my tan you know." I slipped the bag into my carry-on triumphantly, ignoring the look she gave me at that statement.

I mean, where's the lie?

She shook her head at me, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Just be careful Adira. Don't want you getting hurt-or winding up with food poisoning because of those chips."

I held back a groan, placing my carry-on beside the bed. She meant well, but her logic at times was maddening. I knew she wasn't that concerned about the chips but more so of me leaving as she always has. For the past five years.

"Mama," I said, turning to look at her. I took a while to study my mother. We looked nothing alike except for the delicate facial features I got from her. With soft brown hair that framed her angelic face and green eyes that are currently shimmering with worry, my mother's timeless beauty always managed to disarm me.

Taking her delicate hand in mine, I squeezed it gently for comfort. "You don't need to worry. I've travelled solo for the past five years and I'm still here-alive and well. Hrémosi, Mama. I'll be fine."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and I began to panic.

"Oh no. Please don't cry," I pleaded, already bracing myself. "You're acting like I'll wind up... I don't know... dead with a blood-stained note in front of the house."

Bad move, I thought as her sniffles turned into a sob. I should know by now to keep my morbid thoughts where they belong: in my head, and not out of my mouth.

"Okay, not dead," I backtracked quickly. "Maybe just... hairless?"

Strike two. Her tears escalated. I seem to have forgotten how much Mama loves my curls.

Deciding to keep shut, I sighed and pulled my mother into a hug. She relaxed slightly in my arms, though her sobs continued for a while before she quieted, lifting her head to meet my wary gaze.

"One day, that mouth of yours will land you in serious trouble," she warned, dabbing her nose with a silk handkerchief.

I rolled my eyes at that. "Well, it's the same mouth that's kept the company in the top Fortune 500 list," I quipped, earning a playful slap on my arm.

"Ouch!" I protested, feigning pain.

"That's what you get for not behaving like a proper lady," she teased, a faint smile breaking through her worry.

As she turned to leave, she paused by the door. "Please, just be careful," she said softly. "And smile more, dear. You don't want wrinkles like mine."

I laughed as she left, shaking my head. If that's what I'd look like with wrinkles, I had no complaints.

*********************************

The New York airport was abuzz with life, a continuous movement of travelers in and out of the terminals. Beside me stood my father, his formidable frame a symbol of authority. Standing at six feet tall, with arresting coffee brown eyes and a bald head that gleamed under the airport lights, Baba had a presence that demanded respect and as a first-generation African American man that had seen more discrimination in the business world than anyone ought to, he wore his hard-won success like a badge of honor.

"Did you really need to take a commercial flight? The jet was readily available for your use, Adira!" he asked without looking at me, arms crossed in disapproval. Baba's deed voice carried the authority that had shot him to success all those years ago.

"Yes. Baba." I said, turning to meet his stern gaze head on. "It's first class by the way. Hardly a cattle car."

His silence lingered for a tense moment before he finally relented, nodding tersely.

"Just be safe," he said, his voice a few decibels softer now. I know my parents cared for me a lot, but at this point, they were beginning to worry me. Was there something I needed to watch out for? Deciding to ignore that thought, I looked at my father fully and for a moment, the unshakeable titan of industry looked vulnerable. Baba was tired.

"I will, Baba." I promised, my tone milder. "I'll call you and Mama as soon as I land in Greece."

His expression melted further at that as he opened his arms wide. "Come here, little warrior."

The fond nickname softened my resolve. Baba had called me that ever since I threw a rock at a little boy for bullying another kid in kindergarten. I probably shouldn't have done that, but a head wound wasn't as bad as the mental trauma the other kid would have to go through. Stepping into his warm embrace, I inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, engraving it in my senses. Baba didn't usually do affectionate things like hugging, but when we did, I always cherished it like it was the last time.

"This is the final boarding call for Destination: Athens," the announcement echoed clearly through the speakers.

"You wouldn't have to be listening to that or rushing if you'd just taken the jet," he muttered, always needing the last word. As if I needed more proof as to where I got my sassiness from, I thought amusedly.

Laughing at his annoyance, I stepped back and grabbed my luggage. "Goodbye, Baba," I said, giving him a playful salute as I headed for the gate.

*********************************************

As I settled into my first-class seat, my ticket still in my hand, I inhaled deeply, letting the drone of the plane's engines lull me. Our home at Mykonos awaited, and with it, the assurance of tranquility-I hoped. As I leaned back into my seat, I opened the bag of Flamin' Hot Lays I'd smuggled into my snack carry-on despite Mama's protests. The first fiery tang of the chip made me smile so wide, I was sure the man next to me thought I was a lunatic or something. I guess some habits, no matter how hedonistic, were worth my rebellion.

As the aircraft lifted off, I popped a few anxiety pills into my mouth. They'd probably make me nauseous for a while, but anything was better than risking a full-on breakout mid-flight. It wasn't that I had panic attacks regularly on planes-it rarely happened- but better safe than sorry, I guess. As the drugs began to work their way through my system, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to dream. Going to Greece wasn't just a means of escape for me; it was an opportunity to rediscover myself outside the borders of my family's heritage. I'd spent my lifetime proving my caliber to Baba, but Mykonos was a needed retreat for me. No boardrooms, no spreadsheets- just the sea, the sun, and the freedom to breathe without the weight of the responsibility I'd carried for so long weighing on me. I've left that all behind at the gate, and as I finally drifted off to sleep, I whispered a silent prayer: let this journey be the start of something new.

I should have known by now to be more specific with my prayers.

As I stood before the imposing structure I had erected in the Peloponnese, a swell of pride coursed through me. Towering above the surrounding mountains, the warehouse was the perfect fortress-an ideal venue for eliminating my enemies without interruptions or the chance of escape.

"Nónos, we've located him."

Took them long enough.

Striding in through the cold steel doors and into the dimly lit interior, the air damp and thick with the metallic tang of blood, I noticed my men had been busy in my absence, leaving the bastard dangling like a marionette from heavy chains bolted to the ceiling.

His arms stretched unnaturally high, the metal cuffs biting cruelly into his wrists, leaving raw, angry welts. Sweat clung to his bare skin-a testament to his struggles-mingling with streaks of blood that dripped rhythmically onto the stained concrete floor. Stripped of his dignity and clothes, he was laid bare-body trembling, spirit fractured- his vulnerability stark against the cold, unforgiving ambiance of the building.

The source of his bleeding was unclear-perhaps a recent confrontation or the relentless friction of the chains.

Probably both, I thought darkly as I circled him, letting the click of my polished shoes echo ominously through the cavernous space. My favorite knife, Tuto, glinted in my hand as I spun it with practiced ease.

"I don't know whether to be proud or annoyed that you started the fun without me," I remarked to my men, inspecting their handiwork.

A soft chuckle rippled through the room, but the tension remained thick-a suffocating blanket of dread that I relished.

Normally, I wouldn't bother with situations as petty as theft, but this wasn't just about money, though the idiot had cost me millions with his botched scheme. It was about principle. No one stole from me and walked away intact.

"Do you know how... irritable I get when someone tries to swindle me?" I asked, voice calm but laced with menace as I scrutinized the anóitos who thought it wise to steal from me.

His breathing grew increasingly ragged in response, each strained inhale a painful reminder of his dire situation. Tears filled his eyes, but he remained silent.

"It wasn't a rhetorical question, nóthos," I snapped, closing the distance between us. Without warning, Tuto moved-a clean, merciless cut severing his manhood.

His scream echoed through the warehouse, primal and raw. Blood spurted from his dismembered dick, painting the floor and my shoes red. His wild, panicked eyes darted around, in a desperate search for any glimmer of hope or escape. But the oppressive weight of the chains, coupled with the agony of his dismemberment, held him firmly in place-a stark reminder of his captivity.

"P-P-P..." he stammered.

"P-P-P what? I don't speak gibberish boy. Spit it out or bleed out," I taunted.

Laughter erupted from my men, a jarring contrast to his sobs. Annoyed by the noise, I gestured for silence and leaned in closer.

"You know, I'm feeling merciful today," I began, a hint of amusement lacing my voice. "So, I'm going to offer you two options." I gestured to two of my men, who promptly released the chains binding him, stepping back to give him some space as he crumpled to the floor, a broken shell of a man.

"If you can escape this warehouse in the next"-I glanced at my watch for dramatic effect- "say ten minutes, I'll spare your life. If not, my men will bring you back to me, and I'll skin you alive. Sound good?"

His body quivered with fear in response, as I felt my infamous maniacal grin creeping onto my face.

Oh well.

I checked my watch. "Time starts now."

His feeble attempt to crawl toward the door was almost sad. He made it six paces before collapsing, his blood painting a pitiful trail.

Pathetic.

I signaled to my men, who dragged him back to me like a rag doll. He was too weak to fight, though his whimpers continued.

"You should've run when you had the chance," I said, removing my suit jacket with deliberate slowness. "But I suppose you're too... dickless for that now."

Rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt, I turn to my men, thrilled to finally put Tuto to good use.

"Bring the equipment, boys," I ordered, my voice tinged with dark excitement. "We've got work to do."

________________________________________

**************************************

The part I dreaded most about my job was the cleanup. It was tedious, but there was something satisfying about scrubbing blood from the concrete after a successful punishment had been delivered.

"Boss, your mother is on the phone," one of my men said, his voice cutting through my concentration as I scrubbed the blood from my beard. Looks like I'd be sporting a gruesome accessory until I got home.

"Did she say why?" I asked without looking up, now focused on cleaning the crimson evidence from my hands.

"Not really," he replied, his gaze fixed ahead. "Just that she needed to speak with you urgently."

Damn it.

"Fine, hand it over." I grabbed the phone and waved him off.

"When are you going to settle down, Andronikos?" my mother's familiar voice demanded. Her tone was as sharp as the knife I'd just used. "I want grandchildren, gios, and I'm not getting any younger!"

For as long as I've known her, my mother has never been one to beat around the bush. With a severe demeanor, ice-blue eyes I had inherited, and platinum blonde hair, she radiated an intensity that was both relentless and caring. I have always admired her directness. Even now.

"Soon, Mama. Soon," I lied smoothly, knowing full well she wouldn't buy it.

"Don't give me that nonsense!" she snapped. "Next time I see you, I'll twist that overgrown ear of yours until you listen to reason. You're not too old for it!"

As she launched into one of her infamous tirades, I muted the call and sighed. My mother had the stamina of a marathon runner when it came to berating me.

By the time she wound down, I had scrubbed the last of the blood from my beard and set up a meeting with the Aslan brothers at Nyx, my nightclub.

Twenty minutes! A new record. She usually ranted for longer.

"Nikos, are you there?"

"Yes, Mama. I heard everything," I lied again. "I'll do my best to honor your wishes, but duty calls."

"Andronikos-"

"Love you, Mama!" I cut her off and ended the call.

With an exasperated sigh, I called for my second-in-command. "Iason, ready the convoy. We leave in five."

If the meeting didn't go smoothly, I was going to have more than one person on today's kill tab.

I think we should go clubbing later tonight," Penny declared, her voice light and breezy.

I stared at her, fork hovering mid-air above my third plate of kleftiko, utterly dumbfounded.

"Clubbing?" I repeated, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

My cousin's tiny frame belied the force of her personality. Her black hair shimmered under the soft light, and her brown eyes sparkled with barely contained mischief. Mischief, it seemed, was aimed directly at me today.

Having arrived at the family home in Mykonos from Athens a mere five hours ago, I had envisioned a serene afternoon by the pool. Catching up with Penny had been the plan-relaxing, low-effort, completely free of stress. Her idea was a sharp divergence from my completely chill plan.

Penny leaned forward, her determination practically radiating from her pores. "Yes. Clubbing. Why not?"

Good question. Why not?

I stuffed another piece of lamb into my mouth, hoping to evade her question. Should've known that'll never work on her.

"Oh, no, no, no." Penny rolled her eyes, undeterred. She slid closer, her gaze fixed on my plate.

Hell no.

"Touch my plate, and I'll throw you into the pool. Eyeliner and all," I warned, pointing my fork at her like a weapon.

She stopped mid-reach, smiled sweetly, and shook her head. "Addy, you can't hide behind that plate forever. We're going, and that's final."

According to my constitutional rights, I absolutely could refuse.

With a theatrical sigh, I handed over the plate, gazing longingly at my unfinished meal.

"I came here to escape the madness of New York, and you're dragging me headfirst into its Mediterranean equivalent. My sanity is already hanging by a thread, Penny." I retorted with a pout on my lips.

She smirked. "Oh, relax. It's just a little fun. And isn't it too early to complain?"

"It's 2 p.m.," I argued, gathering my things. "Isn't it too early to prepare for a club?"

That's when it hit me.

"Shit."

"What?" Penny asked, her brows furrowing.

"I forgot to call Mama and Baba!" I bolted inside, racing toward my wing of the house.

Why was this house so unnecessarily huge?

After a sprint that felt like a marathon, I reached my room and grabbed my phone, dialing my dad. Despite the time difference, I knew he'd answer my call.

He answered on the second ring as expected, launching into a good-natured lecture about my forgetfulness. Mama was in the background, lamenting about how I almost gave her a heart-attack.

Dramatic much, I thought with an eye-roll.

By the time I'd finished chatting with both parents, I collapsed onto my bed, face-first into the pillows, utterly drained.

Penny appeared in the doorway, her brown eyes wide and pleading.

"Nope." My muffled voice came from the depths of the pillow.

"I'll buy you more of those flaming chips you like," she offered slyly.

Damn it. My weakness.

Is she bribing me? Yes. Would I accept the bribe? Uh... Duh. We're talking about the world's best snack after chocolate, people.

Peeking out from behind the pillow, I gave her a reluctant nod. She squealed with delight, pouncing onto the bed with the energy of a golden retriever. Her excitement was contagious, and before long, I was laughing along with her.

"Ooooh, I'm going to have so much fun dressing you up!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm palpable.

********************************

"Penny, if you keep plucking my eyebrows, I'll have none left!" I protested, wincing as she wielded the tweezers like a weapon.

"Hush," she scolded, swatting my hands away. "Beauty takes time."

"You said that three hours ago!" I groaned, but one look at her withering glare shut me up.

"And... done!" she announced triumphantly.

Finally.

I glanced at the mirror and had to admit: she was good. "Okay, fine. You win this round."

"I told you to trust the process," Penny said smugly, tossing the tweezers onto the vanity.

Turning, I surveyed the stream of clothes strewn across my room-a battlefield from our quest for the perfect "I'm getting fucked tonight" outfits. Pen's words, not mine.

Slipping into a cherry-red romper, accessorized with gold chains and sleek black boots, Pen let her hair fall in loose waves, adding bold red lipstick to complete the flawless makeup she'd applied prior.

She looked stunning.

"If we weren't related, I'd totally sleep with you," I quipped, earning a laugh from her.

"And you look like the cover of Vogue," she shot back. My dress-a sleek black wrap that hugged my curves perfectly-was a hard find. I didn't even know I had it. Paired with three-inch heels that made my legs looked impossibly long and gold jewelry, I did look pretty hot.

"You're welcome," Penny added, fluffing her hair.

After bidding farewell to her mom, we took an Uber to Nyx, an exclusive club known for its elite clientele. One look at us, and the bouncers ushered us inside without a second thought.

The interior was dazzling-golden lights, luxurious decor, and an air of effortless sophistication. A live DJ spun electrifying beats that blasted through the speakers placed at strategic points and the dance floor pulsed with energy.

"This place is gorgeous," I murmured, taking it all in. Everything about Nyx screamed opulence.

"I think I've found my target," Penny interrupted, her gaze locked on a distinguished salt-and-pepper gentleman at the bar.

"I'll see you at home. Don't wait up!" she teased, sauntering off with a seductive sway in her hips.

"Wait-what?" I called after her. She disappeared into the crowd, leaving me stranded.

Did she just leave me? The little bitch.

As I stood there, debating whether to follow her or make a run for it, a smooth voice interrupted my thoughts.

"You've been invited to the VIP lounge."

I turned to find a man with an easy smile and sharp features. He gestured toward a handsome stranger watching me from across the room, his eyes warm with intrigue.

Throwing caution to the wind, I accepted the invitation. If Penny could have her fun, so could I.

After all, it would be a crime to waste such a beautiful dress.

With my hands clasped around the elbow of the man who had delivered the invitation, I followed him into the VIP area.