Page 74 of My Ex's Billionaire Brothers

She’s smiling, nodding politely at everyone who tugs her aside for a quick hello, yet I can see in the tightness around her eyes that she’s hitting her limit. This is the second big family gathering in less than twenty-four hours, and while this one hasn’t yet involved someone knocking me unconscious, the day isn’t over yet.

I’m used to huge Carver shindigs, but those are…different. Even if there are a million half-siblings, step-siblings, and who-knows-what-siblings in the mix, nobody’s pressing me for details about my personal life. The Carvers are a boring bunch, more of a “take your plate and find a seat” affair.

Here, with the Markoffs, I feel the interrogation vibe from every direction—raised eyebrows, polite but pointed questions, references to local gossip—and I’m not even Anya’s blood relative. I can only imagine how she’s feeling.

Gage and Theo are off talking to her dad, Alexei—I’m still not sure about calling him that to his face—and a few uncles about something to do with the fence they were working on yesterday. Gage is probably lecturing them about post support angles—he’s got a knack for that—while Theo stands there, all prim and serious, contributing a few words here and there.

I’m happy to let them handle fence talk. But I can’t help scanning for Anya. The second I see her slip out the side gate, I know exactly what she’s doing. She needs to breathe. She needs an out.

And I need time with her.

I set down my red plastic cup of lemonade—Jessica’s secret recipe, apparently—and follow her. She hasn’t walked far. I catch up near the front of the cottage, stepping around a group of kids shoving each other and squealing. The sight of them makes me grin, but I’m more focused on Anya.

“Hey,” I say quietly, slipping a hand around her elbow. “Wanna go for a walk?”

She turns, relief etched across her features. Even if her lips are still locked in that polite smile, the corners of her eyes soften at the edges of her sunglasses when she sees it’s me. “Yes. Please.”

We don’t announce our exit to the entire extended Markoff clan. We just slip off down the sandy path that leads to the beach. Someone behind us—maybe a second cousin—calls Anya’s name, but she pretends not to hear. I don’t blame her.

It’s breezy down by the water, gulls circling above, the briny scent of the ocean filling my lungs. The tide is out, leaving broad, wet sand that sparkles under the midday sun. Further down, I see families setting up umbrellas and kids building elaborate sandcastles. But we stick to the deserted stretch of shore that’sless appealing for the casual beachgoer—maybe because it’s rocky and the waves crash harder here.

She reaches out and laces her fingers through mine, and my heart does that little flip it’s been doing since last night. We’ve been messing around for days, but last night was…different.

She sighs, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“Anytime,” I answer. “I know it’s your family, but man…there’s a lot of them.”

She snorts. “You have no idea. Half of them I haven’t seen since I was ten. I’d forgotten how busy it gets when everyone crams into our house for the Fourth.”

We walk along in comfortable silence, shoes in hand, damp sand squishing between our toes. The waves curl around our ankles, leaving foam behind. I don’t speak until she’s ready, and eventually she sighs again, a long exhale that’s part relief, part tension.

“I love them, you know? But being around my family…I slip into that old role, the ‘good girl’ role, the one who’s always polite, always mindful, never swears, never talks back. It’s like I’m back in high school.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s weird. And now theyallknow about…us.”

I don’t miss her slight tremor when she mentionsus. I gently brush my thumb over the back of her hand. “Does that bother you?”

She looks up, and there’s this shy little quirk to her mouth. “No. Not really. I’m done pretending. Being with you—and Gage andTheo, obviously—has felt more authentic than anything else in my entire life. I’m not ashamed.”

“People will stare at us in Boston too,” I remind her with a grin.

Her cheeks turn pink. “True. But there’s anonymity in a big city, you know? Here, my entire life story is known to everyone. The Markoffs have been in Castle Beach for generations. If I so much as sneeze, it’s considered news.”

“If you ever want to bail, just say the word. We’ll find a nice hotel in Savannah or something.”

“You’re sweet. But I do want to be here. My parents, for all their flaws and disagreements, love me.”

We stroll further, collecting seashells with our toes. I glance at her, noticing the faint shadows under her eyes. “How are you holding up after last night? That was…intense.”

She reaches out to brush her fingertips over the spot where Calvin clocked me. It’s near my temple, still a bit tender. “How aboutyou? Your head okay?”

“I’m fine. Thick skull, thick skin.”

“That was scary. And yet you hopped right back up to throw him out.”

“I had help, remember?” I wink. “Your dad was ready to shoot the guy. Not that I object, but that would have been a lot of paperwork.”

Anya’s chuckle is warm and breathy. “That was…yeah, that was a wild night.”

We walk on in companionable silence for a bit, letting the ocean breeze fill our lungs. Eventually, she squeezes my hand again, and I look over to find her studying me.