Private Lover 2: Meant To Be (BWWM) *SAMPLE ONLY*

Chapter 3: Battle lines

Stavros saw her the second he walked into the bar. Her midnight black hair flowed down to her shoulders with shiny streaks of silver. She had on a black floor-length gown with gold harness streaks on the bodice that went down the entire length of the gown. She looked like an ancient Greek goddess to him. Her Greek and Italian heritage were prominent in her confident stature and demeanor. Stavros found it shocking how she looked just like the day she left.

She noticed him, too, the minute he walked in. Her eyes stayed glued on him as a smile crept onto her face. Her son was now a man. Stavros suppressed all the emotions that made him want to run into her arms like a little boy. She had known from the day he was born that Stavros was destined to be a leader, never a follower. One of the reasons she had given him a name of Greek descent.

Tracking her down hadn't been hard at all for Stavros. When a new player rolled into your territory, especially one that could be a possible threat, it was your business to know. Vincent had taught him that from a young age. It was, however, very clear she had wanted to be found. It had just taken his guys a couple of hours to get in contact with her and arrange a meeting as per his instructions. Stavros needed to show her that she wasn't a threat to them and find out what it was she wanted from them exactly.

Annabel's was an exclusive member's only club. That is where she had insisted they should meet. The gleaming oak floors and high brow literature nestled on the shelves added to the club's sophisticated touch. A pianist played a serene, sublime Debussy rendition that filled the classy, upscale club. Stavros remembered how his mother had always loved the high life. This was definitely her kind of scene. Stavros mentally scolded himself as his mind wandered to the day she had left him, left their family. He had begged her not to leave. What seven-year-old boy wouldn't? She had said she would come back for him, but she never did and he'd never heard from her either. Aside from some letters, which he stopped returning in his teenage years, and they, too, eventually stopped coming in his twenties.

"A whiskey, neat, please," Stavros said to a waitress as she walked past him. He sat down on the nearest leather couch, crossed his legs, and watched her come toward him slowly from the bar area.

"Thank you," he said, getting his whiskey from the waitress.

She sat across from him and smiled. "Il mio piccolino (My little boy). Not so little anymore, Stavros. A man now," Colombina said, looking at her son fondly. The years apart from him were the worst of her life. She knew she was to blame for that, but Vincent took the bigger chunk of that blame and she was going to make him pay.

"Colombina... let's get straight to the point. What do you want? We got your package," Stavros said, calling her by name, refusing to acknowledge her as his mother.

"Il mio piccolino (My little boy), I see Vincent has taught you well... Cut all attachments, but then again, I do deserve it. Mio figlio (My son), humor your old mother. Tell me about yourself. I can see a wedding band. You're married, si?" Colombina asked, trying again to get her son to talk to her. She saw the anger in his eyes and knew that wasn't happening. Not today anyway. She would keep trying, though. One day, Stavros would forgive her.

"Let's get something straight, you are nothing to me. You don't get to call me your son. I have no mother. She died when I was seven years old. Now, what do you want? Why are you here?" Stavros said through gritted teeth. He was holding on so tight to his whiskey glass it felt like it would burst under the pressure as his knuckles turned white.

"Come vuoi (As you wish), Stavros. Give this message to Vincent. Tell him I'm coming for him. Tell him I said to get ready because I'm about to rain on him so hard, he will regret the day he ever met me." Colombina spoke with such ferocity. Even Stavros felt it, but he didn't flinch. He would never show any emotion to this woman.