Page 20

Free from the room’s tension, I walked back to the pool. In the few seconds it took, I cleared my mind with a deep breath.

This wasn’t the right time or place. Still, Maxim’s last words left a bitter taste, forcing me to realize the battles within me were far from over.

Enzo was still sprawled on the sun bed when I reclaimed my spot beside him.

The empty wine glass stared back at me from the side table.

I topped it off, well above the acceptable line.

There wasn’t much I knew about wine, aside from how to drink it.

Luckily, Enzo was an expert, and his choices seemed to please everyone, myself included.

Given the product’s quality, I planned on spending the day savoring every drop. Maybe a swim and a walk on the beach, my plans were shaping up.

Taking in the surroundings, I spotted Alisa still calmly swimming underwater.

“He got to you,” Enzo interrupted.

Playing dumb, I asked, “Who are you talking about?”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Do you want me to kill him?”

I didn’t think he was kidding.

“That’s my job,” I replied with a laugh.

Channeling the older man within him, he said with certainty and a sprinkle of pride, “It was mine long before you came along.”

I settled the debate with a pat on his chest. “I don’t doubt that.”

I never thought about how all these people around me had been in the game for most of their lives. Look at Maxim, sworn in as a teenager. His brothers? Same deal.

They had served the Bratva for just shy of my entire life. Some still considered me a newbie. I didn’t bother correcting them.

Through the dark lenses of my sunglasses, I watched the Galkins greet each other. Alisa talked to her brothers with a wide smile on her face. No bad blood between them. Not a drop.

Deciding their type of peace shouldn’t be disturbed, I told Enzo, “Surprisingly, I like them all.”

Some in different ways than others, but all were growing on me.

Enzo leveled me with a pointed look, forcing me to admit further. “Even if they have big mouths that never shut up.”

Satisfied, he went back to relaxing.

The Galkins joined us on the patio shortly after they shed their clothing, like the rest of us.

Except for Enzo, of course, whose idea of letting go was undoing the top buttons of his dress shirt and kicking his shoes off.

I’ll give him credit for mixing it up with a linen shirt, looser pants, and moccasins.

He was out of the suits, for once.

The afternoon sun warmed my skin, but didn’t come close to matching the effect the earlier encounter had on me .

The Galkin brothers were all gorgeous in their own way. Whoever started the line had to have some great genes. My hungry eyes roamed Maxim’s body, not bothering to look elsewhere.

Earlier, I convinced myself that I was just attracted to the competition.

After all, that was what had brought me thrills lately.

Wrong. But also, right?

There was more to the attraction. I might need to see this through to gain clarity on the subject.

Maxim neared the edge of the pool and stepped in. The dark gray swim shorts exposed his thick thighs, but it was his wide chest and broad shoulders that made his frame unmistakably him.

The entirety of his body revealed what I had expected from previous glimpses: an uncountable number of tattoos. Compared to his brother standing nearby, Maxim was dipped in ink.

I attempted to get a closer look, fascinated by the art. It was a hard task, given the mix of colors and images, the sun, and the present company.

Right away, one stood out above the rest. It wasn’t because of its size, but because it was unquestionably the least expected choice. Certainly not with the typical gangster tattoos of skulls, roses, lions, or biblical references.

Not Maxim.

Mindful of Alisa’s proximity, I peeked over the rim of my wine glass.

A butterfly tattoo covered the left side of his chest. Detailed work filled the outline, with the wing spread wide, occupying a major space. The insect’s body appeared to be cut in half, split almost perfectly above his heart.

The other end? Red ink mixed with black, creating a collision of colors.

The lines formed a pattern resembling brush strokes.

Even from a distance, the meaning behind the art was obvious, but I wished to hear the origin from his own mouth.

Like scars, a story worth listening to hid behind that ink.

I would know; I had a handful of them myself.

Unlike his, mine were simple quotes, representing the feelings of events I’d lived through.

A type of coping mechanism I relied on. Surely, there were healthier ways to process, but this one worked best, among other, more frowned-upon actions I often found myself doing.

For the rest of the afternoon, we lounged around, enjoying the sun, the sea, and the drinks the host provided. Perhaps the company, too. Though the men still participated in the occasional battle of stares.

I understood the hesitation; there might never be trust between them. But it wasn’t above me to put them all on timeout if they dared ruin this weekend for Alisa.

When the sun dipped, casting a golden glow over the horizon, I realized the afternoon had slipped by unnoticed.

The bride-to-be and I retreated to our rooms shortly before dinner.

She wanted some pampering and a “girls’ get-ready” moment.

I was prepared for it, taking the role seriously.

These were the things I could get behind.

I knew the wedding meant the world to her, so making every moment count felt important.

Excitement filled me at the simple thought of having someone to share these things with. Ridiculous, maybe, but I’d long dreamed about this day.

More when I was growing up, but even now. To have a female friend. To have someone who didn’t seem to judge or envy, unlike the vipers in the Bratva.

Naturally, we took our time getting ready. When my phone connected to the central system, the entire house had no choice but to listen to the playlist. We danced and paraded around in different outfits, laughing and joking about the most likely pissed members of the group, wherever they were.

When the room seemed to explode, with hangers, clothes, and makeup everywhere, we were finally ready.

Confident in our choices, we headed for the door. Before shutting the room behind me, I looked back and laughed at the state of my temporary bedroom. But I made no move to change anything.

It was perfect .

Down the hall, we followed the clinking of dishes that resonated through the house.