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I nodded. “Arturo’s noticed it too. He doesn’t like it. He just wants me to be myself, but as hard as he tries to, Arturo can’t understand how fucking frustrating it is to be deemed not good enough simply because I’m a woman.”
“It’s fucked.” Lukyan cursed. “If anything, women are more terrifying than men. You lot are fucking vicious. Bloodthirsty.”
I chuckled.
“Try not to think about it.” He playfully nudged me with his shoulder. “You’re on holiday. It’s only us around. Your family. You don’t have to put on a front around us. You can just be yourself. We know you’re scary.”
“I’m not that scary.”
“Tell that to my Captain America doll you beheaded because I called you Daddy’s Little Princess.”
I punched him in the arm. “That was entirely your fault, and you know it. You know I hate being called that.”
“I know. Why do you think I call you it?” Lukyan winked. He checked his watch. “We don’t have much time. Quickly. Let’s go.”
We kept the house lights off, using only the Christmas lights wrapped around the ginormous tree as our source of light as we maneuvered throughout the living room. I came to a stop right in front of the tree and barely refrained from twinkling my fingers in excitement.
Christmas was fun, but this…this was my favorite part.
Lukyan slid up to my side. “You take the right. I’ll take the left?”
I held up a closed fist. He bumped his fist against mine, and we parted. I carefully weaved my way through the mountain of presents, thoroughly checking each one to see who it was addressed to, while Lukyan did the same thing on the other side—
A light turned on.
I spun, my fists flying up, my brother doing the same, our reaction times flawless at a sudden perceived threat.
“Shit.” Lukyan cursed under his breath, lowering his hands.
I winced when I finally noticed what he had. “Shit is fucking right.”
Father sat in a comfy chair in the corner of the room, his ankle resting comfortably on his knee, one hand disappearing under the lampshade on the table at his side. That eerie, penetrating gaze was locked firmly on us, and I was suddenly transported back to when I was seven years old and he’d caught us doing this exact same thing.
“And what are you two up to?” he asked, smooth and calm.
“Nothing!” Lukyan and I said at the same time.
“Really?” He arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “Because it looks like to me you’re trying to get a peek at the presents.”
Lukyan and I glanced at each other.
“It was his idea!” I yelled, pointing at my brother.
At the same time, he pointed at me, yelling, “It was her idea!”
I gasped. “It was not! You came to my room.”
“Because you didn’t come to mine like you were meant to!”
“Oh, you motherfucker.”
I lunged.
CHAPTER TWO
Dimitri Volkov
“Every goddamn year.” I blew out harshly under my breath as my two youngest children began to…well, for lack of a better word…beat the absolute shit out of each other.
