“I’m still wrapping my head around this whole situation,” I muse, taking a sip of my ice-cold beer.
Sophia turns her head, pushing her sunglasses up. “What, the fact that you’re actually relaxing for once?”
I smirk. “More like the fact that the Ivankov Bratva apparently moonlight as real estate moguls.” I gesture at the sprawling beach house behind us. “D never breathed a word about owning a slice of paradise.”
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Sophia sits up, flashing a grin like she’s holding onto some insider knowledge. “They collect properties like other people collect… I don’t know, sports cars or something. It’s their way of laundering money,” she leans in, whispering the last part like it’s a juicy secret. “They don’t even care if they use ‘em. Just another way to keep things looking legit.”
I raise an eyebrow, glancing back at the sprawling beach house behind us. “So, what you’re telling me is, we’re basically living in their real-life version of Monopoly?”
Sophia snickers, covering her mouth before almost choking on her drink. “Not the board game version, but yeah, kinda. At least we landed on a good spot, huh?”
I lean back, shaking my head. “Good spot? You mean luxury beachfront while they just… collect these places, like, ‘Oh hey, maybe we’ll stay here one day, maybe not.’ Makes sense, right?”
“Better than being stuck on some random street corner,” she quips, sipping her drink with a wink.
I laugh, finally letting myself relax a little. “Yeah, we definitely didn’t land on the crappier end of the board, that’s for sure. Though, with these two, I bet they own Boardwalk and Park Place too, with fancy hotels on each.”
Sophia snorts again, and this time, she doesn’t bother to hide it. “Oh, absolutely. They’ve got every prime spot, no doubt about it. Except here, they’re not nickel-and-diming us for rent.”
I glance at her sideways, a smirk pulling at my lips. “Unless you count the emotional toll of keeping up with them.”
Sophia waves over to where Luka and Niko are playing in the sand, flashing that radiant smile of hers that always seemseffortless. I watch her for a second, soaking it in—how easily she fits into this world now, how happy she looks.
Wow, she’s really thriving here,I think, taking in her relaxed posture and the way she’s totally at ease. It’s good for her, of course. My best friend deserves this—deserves all the happiness she can get, even if I’m still trying to catch my breath in all this luxury.
“Madam Ivankov, here are your drinks.”
The waiter appears out of nowhere, all polished and polite, dressed in white and moving with the kind of precision that makes it clear he’s paid way too much to cater to people like us. He sets down two more martinis with that perfectly rehearsed smile, the ice clinking as the glasses hit the table. There’s even a damn umbrella bobbing on top, like we’re in some resort commercial.
Sophia thanks him with a nod, that same graceful smile still plastered on her face, while I just stare at the new drink in front of me. I shake my head, letting out a low chuckle.
“Christ,” I mutter, eyeing the perfectly made drinks. “They’re really laying it on thick with this ‘luxury experience,’ huh? What’s next, someone fanning us with palm leaves?”
Sophia chuckles, picking up her glass and taking a slow sip. “Come on, Wren. Enjoy it. You deserve it.”
“Sure. Because nothing says ‘deserve’ like a martini served to you on a silver platter while you’re in a damn bikini.” I lift my glass and stare at it like it’s some kind of alien artifact. “Feels like I’m in a goddamn movie.”
Sophia raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe you are. Wren, the action heroine, taking a break from the chaos to sip martinis on a beach.”
“Yeah, well, I’d prefer a cold beer and maybe a burger instead.” I glance over at the waiter, who’s now heading back to whereverfancy waiters go when they’re not catering to spoiled guests like us. “This whole thing still feels weird to me, you know?”
“Luxury?” Sophia smirks. “Or the fact that D and Luka have this place, and no one thought to tell you?”
“Both.” I sigh, taking a reluctant sip of the martini. The drink is good, annoyingly good. “I mean, who even does this? Just buys a beach house on a whim?”
“D does,” Sophia says, almost too casually. She gets up, stretching, her fingers brushing her hair back from her face. The sun catches the blonde strands, making her look all beach goddess-like.
“So, what? Do they even use these places?” I ask, watching her as she plops back down, settling into her seat.
Sophia leans forward, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Honestly? They just like having options. Sometimes they stay, sometimes they don’t. It’s all about the idea of having it when they need it. Luka and D—control freaks, remember?”
I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah, sounds about right. Meanwhile, I’m over here, wondering if I’m ever gonna feel comfortable enough to just… exist in this kind of life. You know?”
Sophia turns her head toward me, tilting her sunglasses down her nose, those sharp green eyes zeroing in. “You think too much, Wren. You act like you don’t belong here, but I’m telling you—you do. You just have to let yourself.”
Maybe… Soph is right.
We fall into a comfortable silence, watching the waves roll in. The sound of children’s laughter drifts up from the shoreline, where D and Luka are attempting to build a sandcastle with the kids.
