Page 52 of Scarred Angel

VALENTINA

Ilook around the table at the faces that make up my family and smile. My aunts and uncles, bound to me by fate, not blood. My cousins and siblings, the ones I’d kill for, the ones I’d die for.

And then there’s Maksim.

He doesn’t fit neatly into either category. He never has. He’s something else, woven in, but standing just apart.

Still, seeing him here now, sitting in the seat that’s been empty for so long, it shifts something in this dynamic, and inside me. It feels different, like the table isn’t missing a piece anymore. LikeI’mnot missing it. And the crazy part is that I didn’t even realize there was a hollow until he filled it.

“So what is it you do exactly?” Uncle Kai asks Maksim as he cuts into his prime rib.

The question isn’t meant to be rude, but there’s a note in his voice I don’t miss, and I’m sure, neither does Maksim. Kai’s eyes flick between us, the weight of my dad’s distrust written all over his face. I should’ve known. Those two share everything, almost as much as me and Remi.

Maksim leans back slightly, tone clipped as he answers. “Are you asking me what kind of business I run?” His gaze moves overthe younger kids at the table, all of them suddenly still, eyes on him.

“You kill people? Like Russian mafia type shit?” Matteo blurts, a mouthful of bread muffling half his words.

Giovanni smacks him lightly upside the head, and Matteo yelps, nearly choking, while his parents fix him with a synchronized look of disapproval.

“What?” he mutters, shrugging, until his eyes land on Remi. She’s giving him the same look as Santino and Aunt Athena. But with her, his cheeks redden instantly, shoulders slumping. Fourteen and hopelessly smitten, he’s had a puppy-dog crush on her for about a year now. All wide eyes and clumsy devotion, while Remi only ever sees him as an annoying little cousin.

And that won’t change.

The thought makes me glance at my own situation with Maksim, and for a second my stomach drops, wondering if I’m like Matteo, chasing something that will never be mine. But when I lift my gaze across the table and catch him watching me from behind his glass, I know that’s not the case.

Not. At. All.

“You’re not too far off, kid,” Maksim says after clearing his throat. “Sometimes money, respect…and retribution come at a price. I’m sure you understand that much.”

Matteo straightens, all traces of boyish humor gone, and nods with seriousness.

The table falls into an unusual quiet. Until Uncle Silas raises his glass, breaking the silence.

“Sounds like the perfect moment for a toast. Welcome home, Maksim.”

Glasses lift, clink together, wine and soda splashing over the edge, laughter spilling with it.

All of us join in—except my dad. Of course.

“So, Vali, how are you healing up?” Aunt Athena asks as she spoons some mashed potatoes into baby Zara’s mouth. “Just a couple more weeks now, huh? Heard Maksim’s been helping you out.”

Every head turns my way. AJ is making kissy faces from behind her drink, and I’mthis closeto launching my bread roll at her head. Not that I expect any less from someone with a glass full of sparkling cider.

“Yeah, should be getting rid of this thing soon.” My eyes land on Maksim. “And Maxy’s been great. Reaching things in high places for me, running errands, at my beck and call,” I tease.

“So basically not much has changed,” Santino adds with a laugh, tipping his glass my way. “I remember you running him ragged.”

I feel my cheeks flaming red. Was I really that insufferable?

“It’s not like that,” Maksim says in my defense, relaxing in his seat. I bite my lip and take a slow sip of wine, swooning. “She’s a good kid. Always has been.”

The red liquid stalls in my throat, burning as it goes the wrong way. I cough hard and slap the table, eyes watering while AJ absolutely loses it beside me.

“Jesus, Val,” Remi says, smacking my back between laughs. “Breathe.”

I wave her off, forcing air into my lungs.

Kid.