Page 14

I can’t hide my grin as I sit on the sofa watching the three of them throw comments back and forth. Rigor is clearly playing the older brother role here, while his two youngest brothers try to talk themselves out of whatever they got themselves into.

I giggle and then hush myself by pressing my lips together tightly.

Roman throws his hands in the air and stands up, storming his way towards the drinks cabinet like a child who has been reprimanded. As he passes me he raises one of his eyebrows and then winks.

I smirk again.

Rigor has his eyes narrowed towards Ruvim.

“So?”

“You said we had until Roman poured your drink to think about our options,” Ruvim complains.

Rigor lifts his hands in the air. “Ok, fine. I can wait.”

I glance towards Roman who is pouring the slowest drinks ever.

Everyone else sits in tense silence that isn’t really tense—it’s too entertaining to be tense.

Finally, Roman sets four whiskys down on the table in front of us.

He takes his seat and glances at Ruvim.

Ruvim pulls his mouth tight.

Roman tilts his head to the side and raises his brows.

Ruvim shrugs.

Roman shrugs and sighs loudly.

Ruvim rolls his eyes.

Roman scrunches his nose and then nods.

They both look towards Rigor.

He chuckles. “Have you worked out what you want to do?” he asks.

“Yeah, we’ll tell you. If you let us stay the night.”

“I’m all ears.”

Amusingly, so am I. I’m very eager to hear what it is that these two got up to. It’s like I’m watching a show with the way these three interact.

“OK, but first—”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Just spit it out already. You guys are terrible. You want my help but you’re making me drag this out of you.”

Rigor snarls and the other two both widen their eyes.

“Calm down man—we just need you to swear you won’t tell Rodion.”

“Rodion?” I ask, speaking for the first time in a long time and they all turn to look at me in surprise as though they forgot I was there.

Ruvim nods. “Rodion is the oldest brother. He’s—”

“Bossy,” Roman says.

“And controlling,” Ruvim adds.

“And he gets angry really quickly and then we have to listen to him ranting for an hour.”

Rigor sighs loudly. “You guys know he only does that because he cares.”

“Yes, sure, but it doesn’t help some situations.”

“Like this one,” Rigor sighs. “Fine, I swear not to tell Roda. But you have two minutes to tell me what is going on or get out of my house.”

Roman grins the widest grin and Ruvim punches him in the arm and shakes his head. Rigor folds his arm across his chest and waits.

Roman looks proud when he starts speaking. “It was meant to be a joke—but we ended up stealing the wrong horse,” he blurts out.

“Fuck's sake.” Rigor leans forward with his head in his hands. “Were you two messing with Jackson again? You know that horse is his life.”

“He got a new one. Imported it from Dubai. The fastest race horse you’ve ever seen. A total beauty.”

“Yeah,” Rigor sighs.

“But we thought it was the black one, and the jockeys were wearing the same color jersey so even the saddle was similar. Anyway we stole the black one and shipped it back to Dubai.”

“What the fuck guys? How drunk were you? Whose horse was the black one?”

Ruvim and Roman glances nervously between each other.

“Lucas Franco,” Roman says quietly.

Rigor’s shoulders go rigid. “Franco. As in the son of one of our biggest rivals.”

Ruvim nods.

“Where is the horse now?” he says heated and annoyed.

“Look, we are sorting it out. You don’t need to sort it out for us. We’ve got it covered. But we do need to stay low for tonight until the horse arrives back in Boston tomorrow.”

Rigor stares at his brothers for a long time. “You’re sure you can get the horse back to the racetracks by tomorrow? Because if you can’t you need to tell me now so that I can make it happen.”

“It’s already happening,” Ruvim assures him.

“And the horse is safe? You’re not going to deliver a fucking prize race horse back to his owner with one broken leg or some shit?”

“Not a fuck, man. We were just pranking Jackson, we would never hurt the horse.”

“Except it wasn’t Jackson,” Rigor sighs, leaning back in the chair and throwing down a gulp of whisky.

Ruvim chuckles and Roman punches him in the arm, but he’s grinning too. Rigor eyes them, I can see his thoughts churning.

He leans forward and puts the glass down on the coffee table.

“You two really are idiots. You know Franco would kill you over that horse if anything happened to it. You play with fire and then laugh at it.”

His voice is serious. But not angry. It’s filled with care rather than anything else. These are his brothers. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to them—especially not over something so easily avoided.

Ruvim and Roman stop grinning and guilt flashes through their eyes.

“I know, man. It was stupid. We drank too much and honestly we thought we were pranking Jackson. But even that—it wasn’t a good prank. That horse really does mean the world to him.”

Rigor eyes Ruvim who appears to be speaking sincerely.

Roman chews the inside of his cheek, looking down into his glass and swirling the golden liquid in slow circles.

“Alright. You can stay the night. I don’t want to hear about another bullshit incident like this though, ok?”

“Yeah, sorry man. It won’t happen again.”

I get the feeling that this was not the first or the last time these two will be in trouble.

Everyone sits quietly for a moment before Roman blurts out, “Ok, so is someone going to properly introduce us to Alyona and explain what’s going on between you two?” he smirks.

Rigor rolls his eyes, and the corner of my lips curl upwards. I’m curious to know how he’s going to talk his way out of this one.

“Roman—Ruvim—I would like you to meet Alyona. My wife.”

My heart somersaults wildly. I hadn’t expected him to just come out and say it like that. I sit straight up in my chair, hardly breathing at all.

“Your wife,” Roman huffs, clearly thinking it’s a joke.

Ruvim is just staring at me with his mouth dropped open.

“Not a chance,” he says after a while. “She’s way too beautiful to be with an old man like you.”

Rigor picks up the pillow from the sofa and tosses it at Ruvim’s head.

“Hey,” he moans when it slaps him in the cheek.

“Watch yourself,” Rigor warns him.

“Are you two really married?” Roman asks me directly.

I nod. “It’s true. We are.”

“What?” Roman stutters in shock. “How, when, what is going on, when did this happen—I don’t understand—how long have you two known each other?”

Rigor puts his hands in the air and stands up. “No. You’ve drained all the energy out of me already. That line of questioning is for another day.”

“Oh, come on, you’re married, and we didn’t even know you were dating someone. You have to tell us something.”

“And I will. I promise. But not tonight. There is a fridge full of left overs. I’m sure you guys can sort yourselves out.”

Rigor turns towards me. “Aly, do you want to come and help me put something together for dinner?” he asks, raising his brows and letting me know this isn’t a request but a demand.

I smile and stand up. “Sure.”

Following him to the kitchen, which is open plan and still visible from the living room—he pins me up against the counter, making it look like he’s caressing me he runs his hand up the back of my neck, holds me close and whispers in my ear.

“You have to sleep in my bedroom. Just for tonight, while they’re here. I’m sorry, but it’s not an option.”

My heart flips and begins to beat faster. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to share a room with him. A bed. To sleep in the same freaking bed. I can hardly manage sitting next to him at the dinner table and now I have to spend an entire night sleeping with him.

His fingers tighten around my neck. A shiver runs down my spine.

“Um. Ok,” I whisper in response.

He leans back and looks right into my eyes. I can’t move.

My body is catching fire.

“Good,” he growls softly.

Then he steps away and starts preparing four plates of assorted left overs.

When I’ve gotten over the intensity of that interaction, I giggle, watching him mutter as he dishes up.

“I thought you said they should sort themselves out.”

“I did,” he sighs. “But they’re my younger brothers you know. They’ll always be kids to me no matter how old they get.”

I nod.

“I guess that’s how Avraam sees me too. As a kid.”

“Definitely,” Rigor chuckles. “It’s worse when you’re a girl.”

“Oh awesome. I’m so freaking hungry—that looks amazing,” Roman says, interrupting our conversation.

“You’re always hungry,” Rigor smirks.

Roman picks up one of the plates and shoves it into the microwave.

He taps his fingers on the kitchen counter, impatiently waiting for it.

“Tell Ruvim to come and get his food too,” Rigor says, putting our plates in as Roman walks away with his.

“Will do.”

We eat sitting at the kitchen counter while his brothers are laughing and joking in the living room.

“I’m sorry about this,” Rigor comments.

“It’s ok. I quite enjoyed the entertainment. It gets quiet around here.” I shrug.

As it gets closer to bed time, I start to get more and more nervous.

Roman and Ruvim are still up and drinking whisky when Rigor calls out to them that we are going to bed. He sets his hand on my lower back as he guides me up the stairs and my heart is about to explode from my chest it's beating so fast. I’m so nervous I feel dizzy.

Sharing a bed with someone—well, to be honest I’ve never done it before. Not since I was really little and had sleepovers with my friends, but those were girls, and it was nothing like this.

Is this really happening?

He leads me through the bedroom door and closes it behind us.

“All my things are in my room,” I mutter, unsure what to do.

“I’ll give you a t-shirt to sleep in. I don’t want to risk having them see you get things out of the other room. I’ve locked the door to your room.”

“Um. Ok.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Aly. You don’t have to stand there looking lost.” He grins.

I slide my sneakers off my feet and bite at the inside of my cheek as I sit on the edge of the bed. He hands me a really big white t-shirt that will, thankfully, cover what it needs to cover.

I take it with an awkward smile and go into his bathroom to change.

When I come out, he’s standing next to the bed in a pair of grey sweatpants and no top.

My head spins.

Dammit. This is going to be difficult. He pulls the covers back on my side and his and gestures for me to climb in.

I lie right on the edge of my side, feeling stiff and weird.

He laughs, that deep rumbling sound that runs through me like wild rivers smoothing rocks.

He leans across the bed, grabs my waist and drags me closer to him.

“I don’t bite. And you’re perfectly safe here,” he says.

But before he has a chance to pull his arm away from me I roll towards him to say something, not realizing how close we are.

Our lips are practically touching.

I gasp at the feel of his chest pressed against mine.

Rigor lets out a low, deep growl and shifts himself so that he’s lying on top of me and I’m pinned beneath his solid, muscular arms.

He leans close and presses his mouth over mine, parting my lips, he dips his tongue inside me, and electricity flows freely between us, sparking desire and wild passion.

I run my hand up his back, over the raised shapes of his muscles.

But then I tense and turn my head away.

I can’t do this.

I don’t want to be someone’s back-up plan—and I don’t want to be with a man who is in love with someone else.

“Stop,” I mutter as he trails kisses over my neck.

He stops immediately, frozen in place.

“What is it?” he asks, tense with need.

“I can’t do this, Rigor. This isn’t right. I can’t be with someone like this—when they are in love with another woman.”

I scoot away from him, shifting higher up the bed, feeling intensely awkward while my body screams and yells at me to just enjoy the moment and stop ruining it. But I can’t do it.

I can’t be with him.

Rigor knots his brows, propped up on his arms as he stares down at me. “In love with someone else?” he asks, clearly confused.

“You love her so much that you are willing to kidnap me to get her back,” I sigh. I’m annoyed and hurt that I’m the one who has to explain this to him. He should never have put me in this position to begin with.

To my surprise—he chuckles.

I scrunch my nose.

“What is so funny about that?” I huff.

“The woman that Avraam took from me—it’s my sister.”

“You’re sister?” I stammer, a flood of emotions washing through me. Relief being the main one. “Avraam has your sister?”

“Correct.” He smirks, grabbing my thigh and pulling me back down beneath him. He stares into my eyes. “Perhaps I should have been more clear.”

“So—there is no other girl—I mean that you are—interested in?” I ask, nervous to hear the answer.

“There is no other girl, Aly,” he says my name as though he was whispering seductive secrets to me.

I nod, my lips parting as I stare up at him. I reach my hands behind his neck and pull his lips back onto mine.

He groans in surprise at the force I use to re-initiate our kiss.

I’m so relieved, and so desperate to be with him.

All of my fears fade away and they are replaced with pure feverish intensity.