Kristina laughs. “We leave the intimidating to our brothers. Anya and I focus on art and fashion. Much less stressful.”
“We’re the normal ones,” Anya agrees. “Well, normal-adjacent. Growing up with four older brothers does things to a person.”
“You have four brothers?”
“There’s Menlow, who you know, plus Alexei, Pavel, and Zakhar. They’re the ones you’ll meet Saturday. And then there are the cousins.” Anya waves a hand dismissively. “It’s a lot. You’ll need a chart.”
Kirsten’s smile falters slightly. “That does sound like a lot.”
“Don’t worry.” Kristina reaches over to pat her arm. “Everyone’s very welcoming. And if anyone gives you trouble, just find Anya or me. We’ll handle it.”
Anya grins. “We may not be involved in the family business, but we know how to manage our brothers.”
Something in Kirsten’s posture relaxes at those words. She’s more comfortable now, I realize. Knowing that Anya and Kristina aren’t part of the Bratva operations seems to put her at ease.
“Now,” Anya continues, “let’s see this dress properly. Stand up.”
Kirsten rises, and I finally get a good look at what she’s wearing.
The navy dress fits her perfectly. It hugs her curves in all the right places, and the silver embroidery catches the light as she moves. The neckline is modest but flattering. The hem falls just above her knees, showing off her legs.
She looks stunning.
More than stunning. She looks like she was made for that dress. Or the dress was made for her.
I force myself to stay still. To keep my face neutral. But something must show in my eyes, because Anya glances at me with barely concealed amusement.
“What do you think, Menlow?” My sister’s voice is innocent. Too innocent.
“It suits her.”
“It suits her,” Anya repeats, rolling her eyes. “Men. Completely useless at compliments.”
“It’s beautiful,” Kristina offers. “The color brings out your skin tone, and the embroidery adds just enough elegance without being overwhelming. You’ll fit right in at the gathering.”
Kirsten smooths her hands over the fabric, looking down at herself with uncertainty. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
“It’s exactly right.” I step further into the room, unable to keep my distance any longer. “You look perfect.”
Her gaze snaps to mine. Color rises in her cheeks.
“There we go,” Anya murmurs. “Much better.”
I ignore my sister. I can’t seem to look away from Kirsten. The dress transforms her, yes, but it’s more than that. There’s something about seeing her like this—dressed for my world, about to meet my family—that stirs something in my chest.
Something dangerous.
Something I need to control.
“We should try the other options too,” Kristina suggests, breaking the moment. “It’s always good to have choices.”
“Right.” Kirsten clears her throat. “Of course.”
She retreats to the bathroom with another dress, and I force myself to look elsewhere. Anya is watching me with knowing eyes.
“What?” I demand.
“Nothing.” Her smile says otherwise. “Nothing at all.”
