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“What? I thought it was a nice gesture.”

“For you, Tatiana, and Drea, sure. He only did it for Arturo to piss the man off.”

Sounds like Lukyan, actually.

I looked down at the bracelet around my wrist, fiddling with the beads. It was something so small, so simple, and yet, I’d have to say it was probably the best gift I’d ever received.

It wasn’t just a bracelet.

It was acceptance.

CHAPTER FIVE

Nikolai Volkov

Istared at the board, my lips twisting. My father had made the scoreboard like he did every year. The Volkov Family Games were another Christmas tradition we took part in, and we took it very seriously. Usually, it was an individual game where we all versed each other in the games he’d selected. This was the first time he’d made it teams, and as I studied the board, I couldn’t help but notice the advantages and disadvantages of some of the games.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Aleksandr grunted, coming up to my side, his blue eyes scouring the board. “Three-legged race? There’s almost a two-foot difference in height between Drea and me! What bullshit is this?”

I folded my arms over my chest and leaned over. “Looks like you might not win this year, brother.” I smirked, nudging him playfully.

My older brother didn’t think it was so funny, his murderous glare still remaining on the board. “What the fuck is a Hula-Hoop marathon?”

“Well, I can’t say for certain, but I assume it’s where you try to Hula-Hoop.”

Panic flashed across his face. “But I can’t Hula-Hoop!”

“Then you better hope Drea can, because I’m an expert.” I swung my hips in a circle, hands holding the back of my head as I did it again and again.

Aleksandr growled and punched the board, sending it crashing to the floor. He stomped off without looking back, my laughter echoing behind him.

Aleksandr was a…complex individual. He was never competitive in games that were luck-based. Monopoly. Uno. Even Go Fish. But if it was a game that was skill-based? Well…look-fucking-out. That big buffoon was more competitive than all of us combined. He hated to lose, no matter what it was. As the oldest sibling, he felt it was his duty to always win. To always beat us.

And yes, he usually always did. He’d won the last four Volkov Family Games in a row, which was why I thought he was so crabby about the game lineup. He didn’t want his streak to come to an end, and so far, two out of the nine games weren’t built for him—or, more specifically, his team.

One of the guards who’d come along with us picked up the board, his lips pursing at the hole now on the side of it, before he marched off with it.

My father most likely had several boards ready as replacements. This wasn’t the first time the scoring board had been damaged, and honestly, I highly doubted it would be the last.

A scent lingered in the air, and then I felt someone’s presence. Someone I would know anywhere. In any lifetime.

I turned, and just like that, my entire world righted itself, that invisible pressure squeezing my chest disappearing almost in an instant. “Hi, love.” I exhaled.

Tatiana smiled, warmth in her hazel eyes. Standing before me in gym gear she’d designed and created herself, a pair of Nike joggers on her feet, she looked…perfect. Who am I kidding? She always looked perfect. She could be dressed in nothing but a potato sack and somehow, someway, she would still be perfect. Her platinum blonde hair was up tightly in a bun, pinned back so it wouldn’t get in the way.

She was dressed and ready for battle.

“The twins are down. Flora is watching the baby monitor. She’ll come get us when they wake.” Stepping up to my side, she glanced at the board. “Interesting choice of games this year. And your father’s playing? I can’t remember the last time he played.”

“Over ten years. Before my mother died.” A tumble of emotions washed over me. Sadness. Anguish. Heartbreak.

Grief was a funny thing. It was almost…crippling, at times. When it would hit, it would almost incapacitate you. Make it impossible to do or think of anything else. It never truly went away. It would always be there, like a constant hum in the background. In your heart and soul.

Time didn’t heal it like a lot of people thought. Time just made it easier to bear.

Tatiana, always so in sync with me and my emotions, caressed the side of my check, her face softening. “It was nice of Autumn to have the painting done.”

My smile was somehow a mixture of happiness and sadness. “I know it meant a lot to Illayana. To me, too, actually.” It wasn’t until the twins had been born that the realization hit; my mother would never get to meet my children.