I don't even make it to the hallway. The ink on the contract is barely dry when a hand like a steel trap clamps around my upper arm. I yelp, stumbling as I’m yanked backward.
"We aren't done," Stavros growls.
He doesn't wait for my father’s permission. He doesn't care about my brothers watching. He drags me across the marble foyer, his grip bruising. I dig my heels in, but I might as well be trying to stop a freight train. He kicks open the double doors to the library and throws me inside.
I stumble, catching myself on a leather armchair. I spin around, hair flying, breath heaving. "You psycho! You can't just—"
SLAM.
The doors shut with a force that rattles the crystal chandelier. Stavros engages the lock, the click echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.
He turns to me. The mask
