Page 31
“Still sulking?”
Just seeing my wife’s face, her sparkling blue eyes and beautiful smile, instantly brought a sense of peace to my soul, my heart lightening.
“I am not sulking.”
Actually, I kind of was. But a sulking thirty-one-year-old man wasn’t really socially acceptable—at least, not usually. Amongst this lot, though, it was pretty standard. Aleksandr was the oldest sibling, and that big buffoon had sulked after every game he’d lost.
Illayana chuckled, the soft rumble of her laugh making me smile. “If you say so. Come on. They’re drawing names for the next game.”
I took her offered hand, and we walked away from the scoreboard toward the rest of the family. “I wonder how much I can offer Mikhail to rig it so I get Lukyan.”
“Mikhail doesn’t take bribes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I already asked him.”
Of course she did. “Fuck, I love you,” I burst out with a laugh.
“You better.” She leaned over, placing a fast kiss on my cheek before skipping ahead.
I watched her every movement, unable to help being utterly entranced by every move she made. There were moments in one's life that shaped everything. I wasn’t a God-fearing man. I didn’t believe in destiny or fate. But there wasn’t a second that went by where I wasn’t immensely thankful to whoever had orchestrated bringing her into my life, because that moment changed it all.
Illayana was my everything. She was somehow my calm in a wild, chaotic storm and the storm itself, all rolled up into one tall, beautiful package.
An arm came to rest heavily over my shoulder, and I sighed, knowing immediately who it was before he even said a word.
“Good day, Artemis. How art thee?”
Glare in place, I turned my head to find the culprit of my ire all day, every day.
Lukyan-fucking-Volkov.
“Why are you touching me?”
“My love language is physical touch. What’s yours?”
I stared at him blankly. “Murder.”
It just made that idiot smile. “Ooo, gloomy. I like it.” He gripped tighter, pulling me in closer despite my groan of protest. “Me and you don’t get to hang out much. It’s a shame.”
“Yes. A real shame,” I said, deadpan.
“You know, I didn’t really like you at first.”
I don’t really like you now.
“I thought you were kinda dickish. A bit of a…oh, what’s the word…You know what? I’ll take a page from Autumn’s handbook…A cunt.”
Lukyan began to list things off he didn’t like about me at the start. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the insults to stop and the compliments to begin.
It didn’t happen for a while.
“…pompus, arrogant. There was one time you wore white socks with black dress shoes. Absolutely ludicrous, and if Tatiana ever saw you do that, she’d probably have a heart attack. I thought you were moody. A bit of an asshole. Actually, no. Not a bit. A massive asshole. And you’re very pedantic about certain things…” Lukyan continued. “But”—he raised one finger into the air—“you make my sister happy. And that’s all that matters.”
I blinked. Usually, when people started off with, “I didn’t like you at first,” it usually implied they didn’t feel the same way any longer. Lukyan’s words did no such thing.
“Yes. That is all that matters,” I said back, unsure how to respond.
