Doukas by Demetra Georgiou
Chapter 8
A week.
Seven whole days since I saw Doukas last.
Every day he sends me a single red rose. His card doesn’t say anything, just a letter—D.
As if I had other guys sending me single roses from the most expensive florist in Greece.
I’m driving to the taverna, still reeling from yesterday’s flash trip to Lamia. If Doukas was right about dad and grandpa, then there was only one person I could ask. Never before have I felt so alone as these past few days, with no family and my closest friend not picking up her damn phone. I’ve searched through every document and piece of paper I could find, with no luck, so I decided to make a short trip to my godmother.
Even though we’re not related, I call her Aunt Artemis, and I know for years since she used to live next to us. After grandma’s death, she always made sure to check up on me. Her husband died a few years ago, and she’s isolated herself in Lamia, a city about three hours away from Athens, avoiding people as much as possible. Calling her was my last resort, but I’m glad I did.
Learning that there was a time when both your father and grandfather killed for a living isn’t easy. Thankfully, I was too stunned to react properly, and Aunt Artemis understood. What astonished me, though, is that they were both with the Ballers, the same gang set on taking over my taverna.
I haven’t been to my restaurant for three days, choosing to work from home and hoping that the substitute chefs will do their job. Either way, I wasn’t much help there. I haven’t stepped foot in my kitchen since Sunday, and it’s the longest I’ve been away from it. Electra has taken charge throughout this ordeal, helping me out immensely, and I couldn’t be more grateful for her support.
Last night the manager reported that Timon and Pumbaa came asking for me, and when they didn’t find me there, they just ate their meal, paid their bill, and left. I guess that should count for something, but fact is that they’re back, and that doesn’t sit well with me.
Selling my taverna is not an option. If I give in now, I’ll always be on the run, and it’s not in my fucking nature to do so.
The cold weather of the past few days has affected our work. Usually, it doesn’t last long, but for a Saturday night, we have more vacancies than we should. It doesn’t matter, though, because I’m keeping as busy as I can at this very moment. I could use a friend now, but Veta doesn’t answer my calls or texts.
Around midnight, I say goodbye to my last customers, and as I move to the servers’ station to send my staff home, the front door behind me opens. Donning a fake smile, I turn to greet the newcomers, and I freeze.
“Ria Vamou. Magnificent as ever.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask in a small voice, trying to blink the nightmare away.
“Business, of course,” the bane of my existence announces and advances towards me—his goons following in quick succession.
Biding my time before answering to the delusional man, I gesture quietly at the last few of my staff, and they cautiously leave the taverna to go home.
“What makes you think that I’m going to consider any kind of proposal that comes from you, Fanaris?”
“I can be very convincing.” Chuckling, he takes his time to light up a cigarette and take a few drags. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
Wordlessly I obey and watch as Fanaris’s men—Pumbaa included—spread around the space. “Out. Now!” someone yells from the direction of the kitchen, and a few seconds later, an eerie silence settles.
“What do you want?”
For a long moment, his eyes are affixed to mine, and I stifle the urge to look away. Fanaris could be considered a good-looking man with his broad shoulders and toned build. The first thing I’ve ever noticed in him is how easily he smiles, but I know how deceptive that smile is.
“You’re a clever woman, but you can’t run a tavern for shit. You can easily guess what I want.”
“I’m not going to pay for protection or become partners with you. This is my place, and that’s how it’ll remain.”
“Well, I can be very persuasive, sweetheart.”
As if on cue, something crashes behind me, and I watch horrified, as Pumbaa throws a table out of the window. Other men join him, and soon enough, tables are thrown all over the place, destroying everything in sight.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I spring up affronted. I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.
“I’m Makis Fanaris, and you’re a nobody standing in my way. Sit the fuck down,” he screams and shoves me back in the chair. Makis nods, and one of his goons brings out some papers and a pen, putting them in front of me. “These are the deeds to the place. The only thing missing is your signature.”
“I’m not going to sign. This is my—” before I finish my sentence, Makis backhands me so hard that I fall off the chair and hit my head on the side of a table.
Pain is the first thing that registers, like a hundred tiny pins prickling my skin. I open my eyes, but I can’t focus very well. Instinctively, I touch the side of my head and cower at the sight of all that blood on my fingers.
“I get it now.” Makis squats in front of me, and an involuntary sob escapes my lips. “You think the Lords will protect you.”
Makis laughs hard, and I feel my eyes burning from unshed tears. “Why did you think I waited a whole week to come here, sweetheart?”
I shake my head. Not that I owe him some kind of explanation.
“I’m happy to tell you that none of the Lords’ men has been around for a week.” He cackles like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
“But let’s go back to my proposition, shall we? You either sign the place to me, or you’ll burn with it.” Something shines behind me, reflected in the remaining shards of the broken windows, but I can’t move my head. “Either way, it will be mine.”
I feel a gush of strong wind on my skin as the door opens, and several pairs of legs appear in my line of vision. Honestly, how many men does one need to torch a building down?
“In a way, you’ve got a point,” a vaguely familiar voice says behind the noise in my ears.
“Ria’s place isn’t surveilled by mere foot soldiers,” someone else offers.
“You might wonder why, but the answer is really simple.”
“Because Ria is protected by the Lords themselves,” comes from Alcaeus Tremes.
Were those the voices of Doukas’s brothers? Is Doukas with them? Lifting my head, I see all four of them, but there’s more movement behind them outside.
“And when the Lords protect someone, God help you if you cross them,” Doukas says as he joins his brothers and takes his place between Alcaeus and Icarus.
“You know what’s puzzling me, Makis?” Alcaeus drawls. “I never thought of you as a stupid man. But I was wrong. You’re so stupid that you lower the IQ of the entire city.”
Clutching one of the table’s legs, I sit up as best as I can. The first thing I note is that all the Lords are heavily armed with a variety of handguns, except for the twins. Icarus is holding two handguns while Giorgos wields a gun and an ax.
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that, you fuck, I—” Fanaris doesn’t finish his sentence as Doukas raises his gun. All I hear is a small pop, and Fanaris falls to the ground clutching his thigh and screaming.
In quick succession, Doukas rushes forward and kicks him in the face repeatedly. Makis tries to strike back, but his attempts are clumsy at best.
“What a pussy,” someone—possibly Giorgos—growls as he heads for the kitchen. “Ria has barely made a sound, and you’re crying like a little girl.”
“He’s such a waste of space,” Icarus says, and I couldn’t agree more.
My eyelids feel heavy, and I blink, striving to stay conscious. “You’ll be all right, baby. I’ve got you,” Doukas says in a low voice as he kneels next to me and removes the hair plastered to my face.
I only nod and hold my breath as he lifts me into his arms. The more we distance ourselves from the fight, the louder it gets, but now that Doukas and his brothers are here, I’m not so worried.
“This is nice,” I say when I feel the cool air against my skin.
“What is baby?”
“The air. It’s soothing,” I admit as a bout of tears forces its way to the surface. “Doukas, they’re going to burn down my taverna.”
“They won’t. That I can promise you.”
He doesn’t know that. Fanaris wasn’t kidding. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Doukas takes me to the edge of the road next to his car and kneels on the street with me. I lean forward and lose the contents of my stomach. Doukas is holding me in his arms and caresses my hair, keeping it out of the way.
“Bring us some water,” Doukas instructs someone behind us. I lean my head on his chest.
“I feel a little better now, thank you. You can let me go.”
“Maybe I can, but I definitely don’t want to.”
A muscular guy brings a bottle of water, and Doukas unscrews the cup. “Small sips now.”
I don’t want water, but I drink, thinking he knows best. “Can you take me home? Please?” I’m ready to cry, and I sure as hell need some comfort right now.
“I’m taking you home,” he says, lifting me into his arms once again.