Page 2
“Besties?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Arturo hates you.”
“Hate is a very strong word.”
“It’s the only one I can think of that suits.”
“Harsh. So harsh.”
Again, I laughed, a warmth of emotion flooding my system. My older brother had such a knack for breaking me out of whatever funk was taking me over.
We slowly made our way downstairs, Lukyan first and me trailing behind him. Christmas lights wrapped around the railings of the staircase, helping to provide enough light in the darkness for us to see and maneuver.
Once we hit the bottom floor, we made a beeline straight for the Christmas tree. It was over twelve feet tall and beautifully decorated with tinsel and ornaments. It sat next to a brick fireplace, a stocking for each member of the family pinned at the top, from Father all the way to little Aleksei and Ivana.
Christmas was my favorite time of the year. It always had been, growing up, and even more so now that I had moved away from my family. I still saw them quite frequently, but since moving to New York to be with my husband, it had become considerably less. And if I was being honest with myself, I missed those annoying idiots.
“Ooooo. Here we fucking go,” Lukyan said excitedly, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he stared at the mountain of presents piled up beneath the tree. “Check out that big motherfucker at the back. I wonder who that one is for.”
“It’s totally for me. You know I’m Father’s favorite.” I winked.
Lukyan playfully shoved me, not taking what I said to heart, just like I knew he wouldn’t.
We’d been doing this every year since we were kids. The night before Christmas, we would wake up in the dead of night, sneak downstairs, and take a peek at our presents. We would never open them. It wasn’t about that. We would simply look at them, see which ones were for who, and make bets about what was in them. It was a silly little tradition Lukyan and I had been doing for as long as I could remember. We would never discuss or talk about it prior. Never plan it. We would just wake up, meet each other in the hall, and get to sneaking. I was honestly shocked at myself for having forgotten.
Too much on my mind, I supposed.
“So”—Lukyan nudged me with his elbow—“what’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.” I blew out. “Seriously, it’s nothing. There’s just a fuck ton of pressure on me right now, and I just want to forget about it.”
My brother’s lips pursed in thought. “Being the boss comes with pressure. I get it. I’ve noticed how that pressure has changed you—”
“Wait, what? Changed me? How?”
He shrugged uncaringly. “Not changed you in a bad way,” he rushed out. “It’s…hardened you, I guess. Made you more serious. Less—”
“Fun?” I asked, arching a brow.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But we both know you were thinking it.” I stared at the Christmas tree, almost losing myself in its bright, hypnotizing lights. “I guess being queen of La Cosa Nostra has a little bit. There’s not much room for fun and games when you’re constantly having to prove yourself to your own men.”
Lukyan scoffed. “That shit still happening?”
“It’s not as bad as it was when I first got there,” I explained. “Just the odd one here and there now.”
“I hope you punish those fuckers.” He hissed with venom.
My lips curled at the memories flashing behind my eyes.
Lukyan smirked back. “Oh, yeah. I recognize that look. You hurt ’em bad, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” I chuckled. “It can get so frustrating sometimes. In New York, I have to be ‘on’ all the time. The families are always watching me, twenty-four-fucking-seven, just waiting for me to fuck up so they can blame it on the fact that I’m a woman and pressure Arturo into taking another wife.”
A terrifying anger flashed in my brother’s bright blue eyes. “Arturo allows that?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head, smiling at a memory of my husband. “He cut out the tongue of the last person who tried to suggest it. Since then, there’s been nothing. But I know it’s only a matter of time. And because of that, there is almost this ‘persona’ I put on. A hardened, professional persona. And it’s just—”
“Not you,” he finished.
