Page 127 of Gilded in Blood

I lean closer until our shoulders brush. “You okay?” I ask quietly.

She turns those beautiful eyes on me and smiles. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

She nods once, reaching beneath the table to lace her fingers through mine.

I squeeze her hand before letting go, and our attention returns to the conversation flowing around the table.

Oleg, Mikhail and Irina’s son, suddenly pushes back his chair. “I want to go play ball with Boris!”

The dog, already sensing what’s coming, jumps to its feet, tail wagging furiously.

Irina laughs. “Be careful!” she calls after him.

Oleg races across the lawn, Boris bounding after him. Moments later, he’s throwing a bright red tennis ball across the far end of the garden while the dog tears after it with endless enthusiasm.

Not long after, the women begin pushing back their chairs.

“I’m done,” Irina says.

“So am I,” Milana agrees.

One by one, they stand, chatting among themselves as they wander toward the poolside patio. Their laughter carries easily across the garden.

They’re still close enough for us to see them, but far enough away to enjoy their own conversation.

A team of maids starts clearing the dishes, disappearing back into the house once the table has been cleaned.

The moment they’re out of earshot, I look across at Mikhail and Artyom.

“I need to talk to both of you.”

They exchange a brief glance before turning back to me.

Mikhail leans back in his chair. “What’s going on?”

I draw in a slow breath. “I want to ask Milana to marry me.”

Silence settles over the table.

“I came to ask for your blessing.”

The words taste foreign in my mouth. Truthfully, I don’t need their permission. If I wanted to marry Milana tomorrow, nothing and no one could stop me. Certainly not her brothers.

I’ve never asked another man for permission to do anything in my life. But this isn’t about me.

It’s about Milana. She loves these men, values their opinions, respects them. And I know getting her brothers’ approval would make her happy.

Both brothers look at me with surprise written across their faces. Mikhail is the first to recover, leaning back in his chair with a half-smile.

“Is this a joke?”

I meet his gaze steadily. “Do you see a smile on my face?”

Mikhail chuckles. “So that means I’m going to have to deal with seeing your face more often. At family dinners and all that.”

I smirk. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual. I’d rather see anything other than your face.”