The Heir: A Standalone Greek Billionaire Romance

by Laurence, Selena

  So I do. I get back to work, and I put SKT, Inc. and mysterious shipments from California to Syria out of my head.

  * * *

  Niko and I are lying on the deck of his boat. The sun is warm, the waters are calm, and for the first time in weeks the real world seems miles away.

  “Did I mention that this was an excellent idea on your part?” I ask.

  “Once or twice,” he answers, running a hand up and down my thigh as he kisses my belly button, slipping his tongue inside then flicking the gold ring that pierces the edge. Yes, Niko and I went on a rule-breaking binge yesterday. I got a belly button piercing, he got a tattoo. It’s on the back of his shoulder and it’s a beautiful sailboat—one of the old schooners with the multiple sails flying. Hot as hell.

  I wiggle, the flutters in my tummy increasing the more he touches me. “I think we need to do this more often. I’m so happy I didn’t have any papers to write this weekend.”

  Niko’s hand slips inside my bikini top as his lips lower to mine. “Mmm. Thank God,” he mumbles before kissing me. It’s a long, languid kiss, seeming to go on for hours. I wrap my arms around him and sink into the feelings—warmth, protection, arousal. His hands skim my body, touching, testing, until one slides beneath the bottoms of my suit, his long fingers rubbing through the dampness of my core.

  He growls. “Fuck, I love how wet you get,” he tells me as he gently moves his first two fingers in and out of my channel.

  I arch into him. “And I love how wet you make me,” I breathe back. “Why don’t—”

  We jolt when we hear the ship’s radio squawk from the cabin below. We both automatically hold our breath, listening for it to make more sounds. It does and I can’t make out the words, but someone is talking, repeating a message several times.

  “Probably the Coast Guard with some kind of general announcement,” Niko tells me, standing. “Stay right here, I’ll go see what it is.”

  He heads down the stairs and I can hear the radio, as well as the deep vibrations of his voice in response. After a couple of minutes there is silence, but Niko doesn’t come back upstairs immediately. When he does his face is ashen, and his eyes don’t meet mine.

  “We need to head back,” he says, his voice flat and his lips tense.

  “What’s happened?” I ask, standing and moving to him. Sensing that he needs my touch.

  “Christos has been attacked again.” He swallows, the whole thing physically distasteful to him. “He’s unconscious. They’re taking him in for emergency surgery.” He looks at me, his eyes devastated. “His skull was crushed. He might not live.”

  * * *

  The trip back to the island is fast, tight with tension, and silent. I work to get all of our things put back in order, throwing on my clothes over my swimsuit right away. The motor on the sailboat isn’t meant to go fast, but it does the job well enough, and soon we’re stepping off the deck onto the dock, almost running to Niko’s car.

  When we get to the hospital Niko agrees to let me take his car home with me and wait to hear from him. Eventually he’ll need me, but right now he needs his family, and I know I’m right when he doesn’t argue with me about it.

  “Hey,” I tell him before he runs into the ER doors. “He’s strong. He’s going to make it.”

  He gives me one hard kiss on the lips, and then he’s gone.

  I’m about to drive home when I remember that I left my backpack with all of my schoolwork at Niko’s house. I turn the car the opposite direction and fifteen minutes later I pull into his brick driveway.

  Inside the house is eerily quiet. The housekeeper is usually here this time of day, and I call out to her, but get no response. As I walk into the living room with its wall of glass that looks out over the pool, I notice the door to the pool house is wide open. Knowing Christos is in the hospital, I go outside to shut it and make sure his place is locked up while he’s gone.

  What I find when I reach the open doorway chills my blood and I cover my mouth with my hands to keep from screaming. My very first thought is that they might still be here—the bad guys, whoever did this to Christos. My heart races and I freeze, the urge to run strong, but fear holding me in place at the same time. Then rational thought sets in. Christos was brought to the hospital unconscious, someone must have found him here. Probably the housekeeper. All that commotion would have driven any bad guys away for sure.

  I step into the small house, my ears straining to hear anything suspicious, my whole body sickened by the signs of what must have been a horrible struggle. It’s like scars left on a place instead of a person, and it tells of Christos suffering something horribly violent.

  Furniture is overturned, dishes are broken. The television set has been smashed to bits, and I see blood on the tile floor at the entrance to the kitchen. My stomach roils at the scene.

  There are papers scattered everywhere, and the blood at the kitchen entrance smears across the floor and walls moving toward the bedroom. I can hear my parents’ voices in my head, telling me not to touch anything—this is a crime scene, and I can’t believe it’s been left unattended like this. But in spite of knowing better, I walk further into the house, stunned by the wreckage that fills the small space.

  I follow the blood smears until I get to the bedroom door. There, with a large hunting knife thrust into it, hangs a single sheet of paper. I step forward to read it and discover it’s a shipping manifest. It’s for a shipment that went out last week—from Long Beach to Syria, for SKT, Inc. The manifest lists seventy-two crates of medical supplies, but someone has used blood to circle that number—seventy-two. Then, with a dark pen they’ve written: Where is number seventy-three, Ari? Bang. Bang. Your other boy’s next.

  If I didn’t know better I’d swear that ice crawls down my spine, spreading like a layer of frost over any warmth my body held until this moment. I struggle to swallow, my throat swollen in horror. I press back against the wall struggling to sift through the overload of information I’m ingesting.

  Your other boy. Niko. They’re talking about Niko. He’s next. “Nooo,” the sound pushes out of my throat like someone squeezed me too hard, crushing my ribs, my lungs, my essence leaking out along with the sound. Not Niko. They can’t hurt Niko. But in the back of my mind other things are tumbling around like slippery marbles, as I fight to grasp even just one and examine it.

  Long Beach to Syria. Where is number seventy-three? Bang. Bang. The world grinds to a halt and I stare, wide-eyes filled with tears. Drugs? No. Syria. A warzone. Bang. Bang. Guns. Over sea not air. No record of money for the shipments. Special accounts that only Christos should work on.

  In that moment I realize that at least some of Ari Stephanos’s billions are coming from helping terrorists run guns to factions in warring Syria.

  I slide down the wall, the totality of what’s happening sweeping over me in broad strokes, each back and forth showing me another consequence. Niko in danger. Niko in jail. Christos in a coma. My career ruined. Stephanos Shipping destroyed. CIA, FBI, International courts, prosecution in multiple countries. “God, no,” I cry to the empty house. “No, no, no.” My sobs are loud and fast. I bring my knees to my chest, and drop my head to them; huge, choking, gasping sobs spilling out along with the tears.

  And in the midst of it all I see Niko, lying on his boat, golden skin exposed, a happy smile on his lips, one hand stretched out over my stomach possessively.

  “No, no, no,” I repeat, my voice now hoarse and broken. Who knew that paradise could turn to hell in the time it takes to read twelve words. Twelve words that have changed my entire world, and Niko’s too.

  Niko

  I’ve been in the hospital waiting room for hours. My parents and Christos’s are in a private room down the hall, but I’ve exiled myself to this public one. I don’t deserve to be part of Christos’s inner circle right now. I left him when I knew he was in over his head, and now he may not survive it.

  I’ve tried to ask my father what happened and all he�
�d say was, “Later,” but I can tell he knows. He knows who did this to Christos and he’s heart sick about it.

  Once we’re out of the hospital I’m done with this bullshit though. He will tell me what they’ve done and why they did it, and then we’re going to figure out how to undo it. I’m going to fight to save my family’s company with everything I’ve got. I just need a little more time to figure it all out.

  I’m leaned back in a chair deleting emails off of my phone when the text from Tess comes in.

  Can you meet me in the lobby?

  I quickly type back yes, and make my way to the elevators. During the trip down I wonder what’s happened. She knows I’ll get in touch as soon as I have any news. I hope she hasn’t had trouble with my car. Now I’m trying to decide how I’ll handle it if she tells me she scratched my prize possession. I repeat the mantra, you love Tess, over and over a few times to prepare.

  When I exit the elevator she’s standing a few feet away, her back to me as she looks out the windows of the lobby.

  “Hey,” I put a hand on her shoulder as I walk up, “what’s going on?”

  When she turns to look at me I know immediately that something far more valuable than my car is broken. Her face is a study in devastation, her eyes swollen, her cheeks red, and track marks from the tears still drying on her soft skin.

  “What happened?” I implore, looking at her eyes trying to discern if she’s been hurt by someone. What if the guys who got to Christos found Tess? “God, are you okay?” My heart races and I can’t help but look down to see if she’s bruised, if her clothes are torn. The possibilities ricocheting through my overworked mind are horrifying.

  “Can we take a walk?” she asks, pulling away from me and not looking me in the eyes. Fuck. This is bad. Really bad.

  I nod, swallowing around my dry throat, and she leads me out the front doors to the small garden space adjacent to the building.

  As soon as we step into the path through the garden she turns to face me. I see her eyes dart over my shoulder before she begins talking.

  “I went to your house. Christos must have been attacked in the pool house.” She bites her lip, trying to control the tears that well up in her eyes. Jesus. She must have been scared senseless.

  “God, baby.” I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her, but she keeps hers crossed, a barrier between her body and mine, so I release her.

  “The place is trashed, he must have fought them hard.”

  My chest shudders as I try to remember to breathe.

  “They left a note,” she continues.

  My heart stops. “What?” I ask, everything inside of me tightening in reaction.

  She pulls out a piece of paper from her purse, holding it with her shirtsleeve pulled over her hand. It has blood smeared on it, and as she holds it in front of me I reach out to take it, but she stops me. “Don’t touch it. It’s evidence and you can’t get your fingerprints on it.”

  I nod, but not really processing what she means. I look at the scrap, trying not to gag at the metallic smell of the fresh blood that mars the white of the paper. As soon as I see the shipment destination in the third column I know what it is—Syria. I read the words scrawled above the units shipped and a burning starts behind my eyes. The last time I cried was when my grandmother died my senior year in college. I won’t give in now, because I will not give these people the valuable commodity that are my tears. I save them for people and things that I love.

  When I speak, my voice is hoarse and dead. “You can’t take this to the police, Tess.”

  “Did you know?” she asks, and I realize that she understands all too well what that piece of paper means. But how?

  “Did I know what?” I ask carefully.

  “That your dad was running guns for some sort of terrorist group?”

  The pain nearly doubles me over. If my father had taken a knife to my soft center he couldn’t have gutted me any cleaner.

  “Why would you think he is?” I ask, the defensiveness in my tone catching even me off-guard.

  She shakes her head, putting the piece of paper back in her bag. Her eyes are so sad I might die from the urge to touch her, comfort her, but I can’t, because I think I’m about to lose Tess for good.

  “Don’t pretend with me, Niko. We’ve never lied to each other. At least I didn’t think we had. I’ve seen the records of the shipments from Long Beach to Syria, and all those ‘special accounts’ that Christos didn’t want me to work on. Now the assaults and the threats. Your dad’s involved with someone very dangerous, and what I want…no. What I need to find out is did you know?”

  I sit down on a nearby bench, my body suddenly so heavy I don’t think I can support it another moment. I put my head in my hands before looking up at her, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. The rule follower who’s about to become my family’s worst enemy.

  “I didn’t know anything until the first time Christos was attacked.” I sigh, elbows on my knees as I look at the concrete below me. “That night I overheard him and my dad talking—he said he’d been attacked by someone speaking Arabic and my dad said he needed to handle the shipments personally from then on. I could tell it wasn’t standard business but I didn’t know exactly what was happening.”

  She nods to indicate I should continue. I briefly wonder how far she’ll go. Will she tell them about this conversation? The FBI, the CIA? Will I end up in prison too?

  “I’ve been looking into it, trying to figure out what shipments were coming out of Los Angeles.” I pause. “I also saw suspicious crates at the loading docks. And things being loaded onto tankers that shouldn’t have been. They must have been bringing the stuff here and then putting it on different ships to get it to Syria.”

  “When did you figure it out?” she asks softly.

  “I hadn’t entirely. Is it…is it guns?”

  She nods. “It has to be.”

  “Fuck,” I whisper.

  “Yeah,” she chuckles bitterly.

  “Tess. You can’t—”

  She cuts me off. “Can’t what?” She’s angry now, tears streaming down her face. “Can’t tell? Can’t let anyone know? Do you want me to burn this note then? Or maybe give it to your dad so he can see that he’s in some sort of war with the scariest guys on the planet?” She laughs and it’s almost maniacal. She’s about to break down, but so am I.

  “Don’t make me choose, Niko.” Her voice breaks.

  “Don’t make me,” I snap back, regretting it nearly the second the words leave my mouth.

  She stares at me, all of her heartbreak written on her beautiful face, and I feel like a train is barreling down on me in the dark of night and there’s no place to go, nowhere safe to jump. It’s going to tear into me no matter what, and all I can do is watch it happen.

  “Tess,” my voice is softer now. “It’s my family.”

  “And it’s who I am,” she answers. “It could ruin my career. I could end up in jail. It violates every single value and ideal I’ve had my entire life.”

  And in that brief moment I realize what Christos was so afraid of. What he’s feared ever since he first found out who Tess’s family is. He’s been afraid of this. This moment when she would choose her family—the law—over me.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  “And would you still if I weren’t who I am?” she asks.

  I look at her, and I know she’s right. I know that her integrity is one of the things that drew me to her in the first place. The strength of her convictions, the way she conducted herself. She’s one of the most valiant people I’ve ever known, and I love her for that.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “All I do know is that I can’t sit by and let my dad and Christos go to prison.”

  She nods. “I understand.” Then she takes a deep breath and dries her tears. “You do what you have to do, Niko. But I’ll do the same.”

  She turns slowly and starts to walk away, and it takes everything I’ve got not
to leap up and tear after her. My heart is screaming for her to stop, my head is railing in protest. My legs are jonesing to follow her one last time.

  “Tess,” I say roughly before she reaches the parking lot.

  She turns and watches me, warily, and I know that it’s already happened. She’s left me, and now I’m the enemy.

  “I’ll never forget you,” I say.

  “I know I’m going to wish I could forget you,” she answers before she walks away.

  Tess

  “How long are you going to sit there thinking about it?” Cass asks gently from the doorway of our bedroom.

  I look up from my place on the bed where I’ve been staring at the phone for hours. I need to call the police. I need to tell them to investigate the crime scene at Niko’s house. I need to turn over the letter from the guys who attacked Christos. I need to turn Niko’s family into the authorities. They’ve been helping to run illegal weapons for terrorists. They’ve violated all kinds of laws I don’t even know about. Greek laws, international laws, US laws. It’s not a coincidence that Nate’s been warning me about them since I got here. He knew something wasn’t right, even if he might not have known the specifics.

  Yes, I need to call the police.

  “Tess?” Cass says again. I look at her and it’s like I’m watching her through a tunnel. She’s far away and not quite real. Not quite physically here with me.

  “Yeah,” I say, staring at her as if she’s an attraction at a zoo.

  She walks over and sits next to me, grabbing ahold of my hand. “You need to do this. You can’t risk getting implicated in the whole thing. This is going to be huge, and once everyone knows you’ve been dating Niko they’re going to come after you, thinking you know things. And you do, right? You know things?”