He kicks the mansion’s back door open with a force that shatters the lock.
"Clear the hall!" he roars.
Maids scatter like mice. Guards flatten themselves against the walls, eyes wide. No one dares to look at the Underboss of the Nikolaides family covered in mud, carrying the Kostas princess like a spoil of war.
"Stavros," I whisper, clutching his wet shirt. "Put me down. I can walk."
"No," he rumbles, tightening his grip on my legs. "You're done walking for tonight. You're done running."
He marches straight to the grand staircase, ignoring the mud dripping from his boots onto the pristine marble. He takes the stairs two at a time. He kicks my bedroom door open and slams it shut behind us with his heel. Click. locked.
He heads straight for the bathroom.
He sets me down on the cold ma
