From the corner of my eye, I see my brothers watching us. They still look like they want to kill Maxim, even now that he’s officially their brother-in-law. Their protective glares haven’t softened one bit.
Then my gaze shifted further.
Dmitri is talking to Milana near one of the tables. He's smiling that charming, easy smile of his, leaning in a little too close, clearly flirting. Again.
I had warned him the last time my sister visited the house and he tried flirting with her, but it seemed the warning hadn’t stuck.
Maxim must have felt the change in my posture because he twirls me smoothly and asks, “What’s wrong?”
I look up at him as we continue to dance. “It’s Dimitri. He keeps flirting with my sister. He tried it the other day when she came over for wedding planning, and now he’s doing it again.”
Maxim’s brow furrows slightly. “Dimitri means no harm. He flirts with almost everyone. It’s just how he is.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s the problem. I don’t want him using those charms on my sister. She can be naive sometimes. I know he’s a good person, but he has that whole playboy vibe. Milana might not see it coming, and I don’t want her getting her heart broken.”
He's quiet for a moment, then nods. “If it’ll put your mind at ease, I’ll talk to him. Tell him to tone it down with my sister-in-law.”
I smile up at him, genuinely grateful. “Thank you.”
He pulls me a little closer as the music continues, his hand warm on my back.
I tilt my head up to look at Maxim. “Can I ask you something?”
Before I can get the question out, I catch a quick frown crossing his features. I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but the words never leave me.
Gunshots erupt.
“Get down!” Maxim screams as a gunshot rings through the air.
In a split second, Maxim’s body slams into mine, pushing me down. We hit the sand hard. He covers me completely with his larger frame, shielding me as bullets fly overhead.
One arm wrapped around my head, the other holding a gun he pulled from somewhere.
“Stay down!” he barks, voice sharp with command.
I can’t move. I can barely breathe. All I can do is cling to his shirt as more shots ring out. Glass shatters. People shout. Somewhere nearby, I hear my sister scream my name.
“Milana!” I cry out, trying to lift my head. “My sister, my brothers, Kira, Irina?—”
Maxim doesn’t answer. He’s already moving, keeping his body between me and the danger. He fires back twice, the sound deafening so close to my ear.
Then he hauls me up, one arm locked around my waist, half-carrying, half-dragging me toward the edge of the beach.
“Maxim, wait, my family!” I scream, struggling against his hold. “We can’t just leave them!”
“They’ll handle themselves,” he growls, not slowing down. “Right now, you are my priority.”
We reach one of the waiting SUVs. He practically throws me into the back seat and climbs in after me, slamming the door.
The driver floors it before I can even sit up properly. Bullets ping off the armored vehicle as we speed away from the beach.
I twist around, trying to see through the rear window. More cars are chasing us, men leaning out and firing. Maxim is beside me, reloading his gun with calm efficiency.
“Get down!” Maxim orders, pushing my head below the seat.
I stay low, heart pounding, but my mind is screaming. My sister. My brothers. Kira and Irina. Are they okay? Did they get out?
The car races along the island roads, tires screeching. Another vehicle behind us crashes violently, I hear the metal crunch and glass shattering. Maxim keeps firing out the window.
