I chew on my lip and slowly place the picture down before I sink back onto the couch and curl up in a ball. I grab a blanket and drag it overtop, covering my head, and blacking out the world.
Tianna’s dead. Mira and the others are alone. There’s nothing I can do for any of them anymore.
Which is for the best. Whenever I get involved, life is so much worse.
The door bursts open. “Let me see her.” A girl’s voice.
“Emmie, no.” Maxim’s voice. The door slams shut. “She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need you—”
I sit up and let the blanket fall away.
Maxim stands with a pretty young girl with blonde hair and deep blue eyes. I recognize her from the picture. She must be his littlest sister, Emiliya.
She beams at me and seems to bubble over with excitement. Her arms are draped with clothes and she hurries over before I have a chance to adjust myself. She throws the bundle down onto the couch and sits on the chair across from me.
“I’m Emiliya,” she says. “Maxim’s sister. He’s never brought a girl home before. Did he tell you that? You’re the first. Mother’s going to flip shit—”
“Emmie,” Maxim says, voice low and warning.
“It’s okay,” I say, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you, Emiliya. My name’s Siena.”
“Siena. That’s pretty.” She looks at Maxim, her eyes wide. “She’s really pretty, Maxxie. When’d you get good taste? She’s Italian though, so Mother won’t approve.”
“Emmie,” Maxim says, rubbing his face with both hands. I grin at him and mouth, Maxxie? He glares at me. “Siena’s had a rough morning. Can you give her some space? Maybe let her get changed?”
“Right, sure, yeah, cool, cool, cool.” Emiliya smacks her hands on the arms of the chair and hops to her feet. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Siena. If you need to get away from all this toxic masculinity, come find me anytime. I can’t wait to get to know you better.” She pauses and grins huge. “And to see the look on my mother’s face when—”
“Emmie.” Maxim glares death at her.
Emiliya waves and hurries out of the room. I watch her go with a baffled smile. I never imagined that Maxim was the kind of man to have an outspoken and kind-seeming younger sister, much less that he’d be somewhat doting and accepting of her ways. My brothers never found it charming when I spoke out. If I talked like Emiliya just did, Enzo would’ve slapped me in the mouth.
“Sorry about that,” Maxim says as he locks the door. “She can be a little much sometimes.”
“You two are close.”
“As close as we can be in a place like this.” He watches me carefully as I pick through the clothes Emiliya brought. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“We’re having dinner tonight.” He clears his throat. “With everyone.”
“Do your parents know I’m coming?”
“They will be informed.” He looks at me stiffly and I can’t tell what he’s waiting for. I pick up a top and a pair of jeans that look like they might fit. I can’t wait to get out of this ridiculous revealing outfit.
Maxim looks at me like he can’t wait either—because he’s going to tear it off my body.
Either that or he wants to rip my head off. I think it might be both.
“I’ll leave you alone,” he says again and strides off. I hear a door slam deeper in his rooms.
I sigh and hug myself, not sure what I’m supposed to do, but feeling a strange jolt of excitement after catching a glimpse of Maxim with his family.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
Or maybe this is the prelude to something so much worse than I ever imagined.
Chapter 11
Maxim
Siena naps in my bedroom while I try to get some work done in my sitting area. Sunlight slants through the windows and glares off my screen, but I can’t focus on the fucking spreadsheets and emails and all that crap.
When people imagine life in the bratva, they picture breaking knees, killing enemies, and slinging drugs. And it’s true, we do a lot of that.
But most of our business is legit. We have restaurants, dry cleaners, coffee shops, bars, and a few strip clubs scattered all over the DFW area. I manage the day-to-day operations for over half our properties, and that keeps me busy putting out petty fires, like some idiot strip club owner that can’t get his girls to stop arguing, or one of my restaurants that ordered too much fish and now they’re practically drowning in cuts of cod they can’t sell, or like that gas station over on the east side of town where the old man working the cash register fell sleep and let some teenager steal like three grand worth of alcohol. It’s all absurd and unimportant, and I still have to deal with it, because my brothers won’t and my father will blame me if these issues don’t get resolved.