I must have slammed the door shut behind me a little too loud, because when I did, I saw four of the guards look toward me with curiosity.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, walking past them.
The truth was, I’d been in a bad mood for the past three days. Ever since Alisa and I fought, she had tried damn hard to avoid me. The house no longer felt like mine. It had turned so very quiet, hostile even, and I found myself walking around on eggshells, not wanting to piss her off any further.
What was her deal anyway?
Even that day at the gym, something had been on her mind the whole time. Of course, she won’t tell me what it was, nor did I expect her to, but was it so hard to be civil? How the hell did things escalate so damn fast?
I rolled my shoulders, needing to shake her off my mind before I walked into the warehouse. Federico had called with this shipment inspection, and maybe that was for the best. I needed the distraction, needed something other than Alisa’s rejection bouncing around my skull.
I stepped inside, and it took a second to feel in control amidst the chaos. Huge crates over thirty feet in height were being opened in one corner, while on the other, machines were being tested. Slot machines, mostly new models for our high-end casinos, complete with custom programming that gave us just the edge we needed.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” my oldest brother Caspian called out, spotting me from where he stood overseeingthe operation. As the Pakhan, he always positioned himself where he could see everything—he was a control freak, through and through.
I raised a hand in greeting. “Traffic was hell.”
“More like you forgot what daylight looks like,” Giovanni laughed, striding over to punch my shoulder. He was the second oldest, but sometimes acted like he was still twenty-one. “We were taking bets on whether you’d even show.”
“Why wouldn’t I have?” I muttered, scanning the shipment.
“Because it looks like you’ve been playing hooky.” Gio raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t been showing up much. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” I lied. “Is everything on schedule?”
“Why the rush?” Federico asked, having joined us moments ago with the rest of our brothers. “Hot date?”
I snorted. The only woman I wanted was currently avoiding me like I had the plague. Not that they knew that.
“Just asking,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Got things to do later.”
“Like what?” Luca scoffed. “You’ve been a ghost for weeks. The club owners of the places you visit are starting to ask if you died.”
“Maybe he’s got a girl,” Achille suggested with an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows. “That’s the only reason Dante Lebedev disappears.”
They all turned to look at me with varying degrees of interest. I tried to keep my face straight, just to stop them from thinking that they’d hit the nail on the head.
“No girl,” I lied smoothly. “Like I said, just been busy.”
“Busy with what?” Giovanni pressed, grinning. “Last time you went off radar for this long, it was because of that redhead from Miami. What was her name? Candy? Cathy?”
“Cassandra,” Caspian corrected without looking up from his clipboard. “And whooo, was she was trouble.”
I tried hard not to roll my eyes. She wasn’t trouble. She had been just a distraction. The real trouble was currently locked up in her room, giving me the cold shoulder. And as for me? I’d like her to stay locked up in there, away from my brother’s prying eyes.
My brain scrambled for an excuse, for any excuse, and I knew I landed on a mistake only after I said it. “I’ve just been… playing golf.”
The silence that followed was so profound you could’ve heard a pin drop across the warehouse. Then Giovanni burst out laughing so hard he had to bend over.
“Golf?” Federico echoed, his eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. “You? The same guy who said golf was just an excuse for old men to drink before noon?”
“People change,” I muttered, scowling at their reaction. I mean, I could have been playing golf. Was it that hard to imagine me on the course?
“Come on, who is she? Must be someone special to turn you into a golfer,” Luca snorted.
“I’m serious,” I insisted, wondering how I’d gotten myself into this lie. Golf, of all things. Couldn’t I have said boxing? Or literally anything else? “Thought I’d try something new. It’s… calming.”
Caspian finally looked up, his sharp eyes studying me. “Dante Lebedev, seeking calm? Now I know something’s wrong.”
