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Being the youngest child is hard enough.

Tack on being the only girl in a family of too many brothers, and you’ve got a recipe for suffocation.

My brothers mean well, I know they do, but overprotective doesn’t even begin to cover what they are.

If they had it their way, I’d be wrapped in bubble wrap and left in a padded room, no windows.

Not to say it hasn’t had its advantages—no one ever messed with me in school.

On the other hand, all the boys were too afraid to date me.

Something about the thought of one of my hulking brothers appearing behind us while we’re making out kept them at arm’s length and made for a pretty sparse love life during my teen years.

Of course they have their reasons for being completely insane about protecting me.

I’m the youngest member of the Milov crime family and a prime target for any of our enemies, and we have plenty of those.

The fact that I’ve survived this long is a credit to their skills and hard work.

None of that makes it any less infuriating.

I’m twenty-one years old, and they still treat me like I’m fifteen, too young and dumb to be a real part of the family. To them, I’m still just their little sister. Shielding me from the darker side of the Milov life is second nature.

What they don’t realize? A lifetime of overprotective brothers makes for one sneaky kid sister.

“Where should we have dinner tonight?” Ella, one of my best friends and my brother Anton’s new wife, asks me.

She’s everything he’s not: innocent, sweet, and never overbearing. I keep hoping she’ll rub off on him, but so far, no luck. She’s also my best shot at getting out from under my family’s thumb for a minute.

We’re technically here for work while a new Milov casino is being built, something Ella and Anton worked their asses off for, but for me it’s more like a vacation.

On paper, I work for Anton now. In practice, he lets me handle some paperwork while keeping me completely out of anything important. Or dangerous. Ella, completely new to the family, sees more action than I do. It’s totally unfair, and if I didn’t love Ella so much, I’d resent her for it.

I loop my arm through hers and toss a look over my shoulder back at Anton. He’s got his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, a dark look on his face that tells me this isn’t the time to ask for a longer leash. Not from him, anyway.

There’s a pit in my stomach, a hard kernel of guilt that I push down. “Actually, I got a text from one of my friends,” I say, looking at the shop windows we’re passing rather than at her. “They’re staying nearby and I haven’t seen them in ages.”

“Sick of us already?” Ella teases, nudging me in the side.

“Never!” I protest, only half meaning it. I don’t get sick of Ella. Anton, on the other hand. Well, he’s a typical older brother. “It’ll just be for a night or two.”

Ella hesitates, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am.

Anton will never go for it. Not here. The Milov family might be moving in now, but the territory is divided between warring families, and the clashes can get violent.

It wasn’t long ago that Ella was kidnapped by the ruthless Abashin family, and that’s something Anton won’t forget anytime soon.

“Please help me work on him,” I plead, steering us into a smoothie shop. Anton follows a step behind, still on his phone call. “With the two of us together, he won’t be able to say no.”

The sweet smell of tropical fruits fills the air, and my stomach grumbles.

I definitely forgot to eat breakfast, and I’m running on too many cups of tea.

Once the whirr of the blender dies down, I order a green smoothie loaded with pineapple and kale and step back to let Ella order for herself and Anton.

There’s no group of friends nearby, and I completely hate lying to Ella. It makes me feel like the worst friend in the world, but I can’t tell her the truth and expect her to lie to Anton for me. That has to be my burden to bear.

If I pull this off, it will be my first unsupervised moment in months.

Seriously, I’ve had one brother or another breathing down my neck every day for that long.

I deserve a night off. Two, if I can manage it.

In the long term, I want more involvement in the family business and maybe even an offshoot to call my own, but for now, I’ll take just a night to myself.

Miami is a brand-new city to me, and I already kind of love it here.

It doesn’t have the same hectic feel as Las Vegas, where I grew up and where the Milovs call home.

Here, there’s more than just traffic and concrete.

Plus, it gets major bonus points for being far enough away from Vegas that the only brother I really have to deal with is Anton.

There’s only so much the others can do over the phone.

“I really hope we’re not boring you to death.” Ella hands me my smoothie and takes a sip of her own, standing beside me at the big window looking out onto the main street.

Anton stepped outside with his, standing just beside the doorway to finish his phone call, so I feel like I can talk freely.

“Honestly, I was hoping to do more. I feel like I’m still totally walled out of all the family stuff, like Anton and the rest are never going to see me as anything more than their kid sister. Someone they need to protect.” I suck down a big sip of smoothie and wince at the incoming brain freeze.

Ella leans against the window frame. “I get that. Well, sort of. I don’t really have a family, but obviously, Anton is super protective. He just wants to keep you safe.”

“I’m just as much of a Milov as he is,” I grumble, rubbing my forehead. The pain is not helping my mood. “I have just as much right to be a part of the family business, every side of it, as he does.”

She shifts her weight, and I sense she’s torn between siding with Anton, her new husband and love of her life, and me, her new friend and sister-in-law. I press on before she can decide one way or the other.

“I mean, he’s barely letting me get involved with the legitimate side of things,” I say, slicing my hand through the air.

“Which is totally not fair. When he took me, he said I could work for him, but all he’s done is give me busy work and shut the door in my face when there’s something important to do. ”

Ella presses her lips between her teeth. “You’re right. He’s just afraid and when he gets like that, there’s no reasoning with him.”

I reach over and take her hand, locking eyes with her. “Help me, please?”

Her gaze flicks to Anton. “I’ll try.”

“And you’ll keep your cell phone on you at all times? Set to ring, not vibrate, so you can’t pretend you didn’t notice me calling you.” Anton stands with his hands on his hips and a set of lines between his eyebrows as he lectures me.

Ella stands off to the side, making a pot of coffee, but I know she’s ready to intervene if he goes on too long.

She’s good like that. We’re in their hotel room, which is right beside my own.

I’m just lucky Anton didn’t insist on sharing a suite, but I probably have their newlywed status to thank for that. Gross.

“Yes, Dad,” I groan, flopping my head back onto the couch. “I told you like a thousand times. The resort is in a totally safe spot. I’ll always be with a group of people. There’s zero danger.”

“See,” Anton says, wagging his finger, “that’s where you’re wrong. There is always danger. You’re a Milov, Anya. That means you’re a target no matter where you are or who you’re with. This is not a good idea if you’re not even taking it seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously,” I argue, standing up so I can go toe to toe with him.

He’s crossing the line from overbearing brother to father figure, and I’m not having it.

I’m a grown woman. “I’m not a kid anymore.

Accept it. Tonight, I’m going out with my friends, and you know what’s going to happen after that?

You and the rest of the family are going to start letting me into the business, for real.

None of this protecting me bullshit anymore. I’m sick of it.”

Anton’s eyebrows climb. “Do you realize how childish you sound right now? You’re not exactly making your case by throwing a tantrum.”

White-hot rage floods my body, and it’s all I can do to keep my hands at my sides. He deserves a slap or two.

“This isn’t a tantrum,” I say, exhaling through my nose to keep from acting on my impulses. I’ve taken enough self-defense classes to make it really hurt, too. “And I mean it. Don’t think I’ll wake up tomorrow and change my mind.”

Ella sets the coffee pot down and comes over, touching Anton’s shoulder. He softens a little and turns toward her, shrugging his shoulders.

“Talk some sense into her, Ella, please,” he says.

“Sorry, babe, but I agree with her.” She flashes me a conspiratorial smile. “Have fun tonight, Anya, and I know Anton here will be up for discussing a better arrangement when you get back. One that takes your feelings into account.”

“Is that what I’ll be up for?” he grumbles, but doesn’t argue with her. Thank God for Ella.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I squeal, pulling Ella into a quick, hard hug while I shoot Anton a told-you-so look over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys soon!”

Before he can protest, I’m out the door and back in my room, pulling out the slinkiest outfit I can find.

I slip into the barely-there dress and twist my hair into a messy bun, pulling some pieces out to frame my face.

A quick swipe of mascara and a touch of lip gloss, and I’m ready to go.

I call for a car, put my phone and wallet into a minuscule clutch, and head out in a pair of sky-high stilettos in under thirty minutes.

It’s dark out, and the sun has taken some of the day’s heat with it. For a moment, I question whether I should’ve grabbed a jacket, but I’m not doubling back now when I could run into Anton in the halls.

The car winds through downtown traffic to the hottest nightclub, letting me out right in front.

There’s a line down the block even on a Thursday night, and now I’m really wishing for a jacket as the wind picks up.

Back home in Vegas, my name is enough to get me into whatever club I want, but I’m not about to flaunt that here.

Despite what Anton thinks, I’m not oblivious to danger.

I hesitate, catching the doorman’s eye. There’s more than one way to skip the line.

He looks me over slowly, and I paste a flirty smile on my face, more than willing to trade on my looks if it gets me in faster.

A shadow darkens the doorway behind the bouncer, then steps out and solidifies into a man.

He’s older, nearing forty if I had to guess, with black hair and matching obsidian eyes that sparkle when they meet mine.

The man is hot in the same way the devil is—dangerously.

I can just see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from beneath the shirt that struggles to contain his muscular frame, and I take a long moment to imagine what the rest of it looks like on that tanned skin.

“She’s with me,” he says, in a deep, accented voice. Russian. “Let her in.”

The bouncer jumps to obey, and a shiver passes over my skin. I hesitate because crossing the threshold with this man is oddly intimidating, as though I’m about to sign my soul away.

He cocks his head to one side and the smile that crooks one corner of his mouth is a dare.

I never could resist one. I pass the doorman and brush against the demon in the doorway, just enough to feel the hard muscles of his body and catch his smoky, spiced smell.

Before I can disappear into the club, he grabs hold of my wrist and stops me.

I look down at the huge hand encircling my arm, the touch firm but not hard enough to hurt. “I’m not actually with you, you know.”

Still, I don’t try to tug myself free. Partially because I doubt I could, and partially because the feeling spreading from where we meet is heady.

Up close, I can see my age estimate was right, and this guy is almost twenty years older than me.

Way too old for me, even if he looks hotter than just about any man my age.

“Have a drink with me,” he says, releasing my wrist and giving me the choice to follow him deeper into the packed club or find my own way.

He doesn’t look back once. I follow.