He looks completely unbothered, his cashmere coat doing nothing to hide the hard lines and defined edges of his powerful build. He and Leo are shoulder-checking each other, joking about surviving Antonio’s cooking without blowing their macros. They’re laughing easily, falling right back into the rhythm that used to make me feel a bit out of place no matter how much they tried to include me. I was always the kid sister tagging along.
The door flies open, and Janice Russo beams at us. “You’re finally here, baby!” Her Southern lilt wraps around the words as the smell of bacon drifts out. She engulfs Natefirst, planting a kiss on his cheek before pulling me into her orbit without hesitation. “Eden, sugar, would you just look at you? All grown up and downright stunning.” Her stare flicks between me and Nate, stitching us together in her mind. “Lord have mercy, it’s been forever since I’ve seen that pretty face. I swear, you two showing up together makes this house feel right.”
Before I can answer, Antonio appears, flour dusting his forearms, waving a wooden spoon. “Finally, the city crew made it. You hungry? Sit, sit, I’ll feed you.”
“City crew?” Leo laughs, hugging Janice and dropping his duffel by the door. “You make us sound like a gang.”
The living room hums with chaos. Two sugar-fueled banshees are tearing laps around the room. Ryan is sprawled on the couch, new-parent exhaustion pouring off him, while his wife corrals the terrors and gathers stray blocks. My parents rise from their spots by the fireplace and pull Leo and me into hugs that carry cinnamon tea and home. Over my shoulder they trade matching grins—karma is best served warm. Payback for every sleepless night Ryan ever handed them. Mom sips her tea, smug and serene; Dad folds his arms and settles in for the show.
“Alright now,” Janice claps her hands, in her relentless organizer mode, “Antonio and me are down here in the master. Carvers, y’all are settled in the other ground-floor suite.”
Which leaves… Of course it does.
“Upstairs for the rest of you,” she sings. “Two bedrooms left…and three of y’all.” She lets it breathe, eyes jumping between Nate and me.
My cheeks heat. Oh God.
Janice smiles at my brother. “One solution is two of you sharing a room?”
Leo clearshis throat. “Or Eden could stay with Ryan’s family at Dmitri’s place. More space. The kids would love it.”
Janice waves that off. “Nonsense. You’ll go stay with your brother. Eden needs to be here—she’s training with Nate, and he’s up early. Easier if she’s close.” A pat to my arm. “And Antonio’s already promised to sit down with her to set up her books. He can’t resist breaking out Accounting 101.”
Leo’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. He knows better than to cause a scene with both families watching. I drag my suitcase upstairs, my brother’s glare burning through my sweater. When I glance at Nate, he raises one brow.
“Does she know?” I whisper.
He shrugs and disappears into his room. “I’ll see you in thirty, Trouble. Gym.”
How did I let Nate Russo drag me into this clusterfuck?
Trust Nate toturn a beach house into a training facility. The gym takes up half the first floor, glass walls pouring winter light across the dunes. Squat rack, free weights, heavy bag. Everything is perfectly organized and functional.
When I walk in, they’re already at it—Nate, Leo, and Ryan in formation, a testosterone-soaked Christmas display. Barbells clang; shoulders flex; veins pop. Shirtless, obviously. My brothers barely register. But Nate? A single glance lands low. Muscle cut clean, movement precise, efficient and unfair. Then the reel hits: him over me, chest to chest, breath at my ear, control gone the second he touched me.
Avert your eyes, Eden. Pretend you’re not drowning in whatever nuclear-grade pheromones he’s pumping into the air.
“Yo.” Leo catches me looking and frowns. He snatches a T-shirtand whips it at Nate’s chest. “Put something on before you blind my sister.”
Ryan snickers, tugging his own shirt on. “Yeah, place is practically an icebox.”
Sure. The AC. Mystery solved.
Nate pulls the T-shirt on slow, eyes on me over the collar. “Hey there, Trouble.” I try to pretend this doesn’t affect me.
Ryan lasts another twenty minutes before bowing out. “I’m officially retiring from pretending I can keep up with these two freaks of nature,” he declares. “I’ll supervise.”
“Supervise?” I arch a brow.
“Absolutely. I’ll make encouraging comments like ‘nice form, bro’ and ‘wow, your veins look insane’. It’s an important role.”
I laugh, then roll onto one of the mats for hip bridges and BJJ drills. Ryan watches. “Damn. That’s some serious ninja stuff, baby sis.”
“It’s called shrimping.”
He chokes on his water. “Sounds dirty.”
“It’s a grappling movement.” I swat him with my towel.
