Page 99 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

I stepped back.

Something unreadable crossed her eyes.

"Next Saturday," she said, "I have a gallery show."

My heart slammed once, hard. I'd dealt with shootings, betrayals, port wars. No invitation had ever made me fight my face like that.

"I know."

She narrowed her eyes. "Of course you do. You know everything."

"I only know the public date." I paused. "I don't know if you want me there."

She tapped the end of her brush against the palette.

"If you want to come, you can."

It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't a promise. It barely qualified as welcome.

But it was the first time she'd cracked the door open.

I almost told her I'd bought every piece she'd put up for sale. Almost asked her where they should hang. Almost let her know that house that had once choked her was full of her light now.

I held it in.

The first drop of rain smacked the edge of the canvas.

Elena looked up. Another drop hit her cheek. In less than ten seconds, the rain swept over the river like a gray wall rolling in.

The downpour hit without warning.

She grabbed the easel. I yanked off my jacket and threw it over the wet paint. A gust tried to lift the canvas; I pinned the frame with one hand and grabbed her paint box with the other.

"My car's just outside the trees. Come on."

She clearly wanted to argue. Lightning split the sky across the river. The thunder that followed shook the boards under our feet.

"You can stay mad at me," I said, wrapping my jacket tighter around her painting, "but this rain will ruin it."

She bit her lip, snatched up her folding stool. "Fine. Lead."

We ran into the woods. In seconds, rain soaked through my shirt and turned the ground slick. Elena's foot slid on the slope; I caught her at the waist and pulled her back into me.

She hit my chest.

The world narrowed to rain and her breath breaking.

Wet fabric clung to her slim body. My palm pressed through her shirt at her side; I felt her go rigid in an instant. She tipped her face up, rain tracking down her lashes and nose. Those hazel eyes were too close.

"You steady?"

My voice came out rougher than the thunder.

She nodded, and I was a beat too slow letting go.

Her hand was still flat on my chest, right over the double-headed eagle tattoo. My heartbeat punched into her palm. Her fingertips curled once.

My head told me to back off.