Page 10 of Beautiful Trauma
Every mafia family from the Italians to the Irish funneled cash through art galleries. Just like Maksim didn’t have a choice in aspects of his career, I hadn’t been given much of a choice when after graduating college, my father ordered me to manage the Lumiere Gallery.
Since it was almost closing time, I made my way back to the main floor. At the sight of a water bottle on the floor beneath a fifty-thousand-dollar painting, I power walked over to snatch it up.
“No fucking respect,” I grumbled under my breath.
“Excuse me, miss. Do you have anything in velvet?” a voice boomed behind me.
The question froze me. There was only one person who would dare to ask such a question. A smile curved on my lips before I even whirled around.
Cocking my head at Dima, I continued playing along. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we just auctioned our lastDogs Playing Pokeryesterday.”
Dima grinned. “Such a pity.”
“Don’t lose heart. I’m sure if you check any of the local thrift stores, something will come up.”
“Spoken like a true?????.”
With a laugh, I replied, “Last time I checked, the smartass gene runs in my family.”
A chuckle rumbled through his broad chest. Waving a tattooed hand at me, he said, “Come give your favorite brother a hug.”
Glancing around, I teasingly replied, “Is Lev with you?”
Dima rolled his eyes before snatching me into his arms. “I see you haven’t grown kinder in my absence.”
Grinning against his chest, I replied, “You know I never change.”
“I’ve missed you,malyska.”
Squeezing him tight, I choked out, “I’ve missed you as well.”
I couldn’t believe it had been six months since I’d seen him. Dima was more than just my older brother. He’d been both my physical and emotional protector. He was my confident and closest ally. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I wouldn’t have survived those first few years without Mama if I hadn’t had him.
As I pulled away, I smiled up into his handsome face. “How was St. Petersburg?”
Dima grunted. “Cold as balls.”
Wrinkling my nose, I replied, “I’ve always wondered about that expression. Balls are physiologically warm.”
Cocking a brow at me, he countered, “I hope your response doesn’t mean you’ve been up close and personal with many in my absence.”
“My sexual activities are none of your business.”
With a smirk, he replied, “As both your brother and your future pahkan, I disagree.”
As my lip curled in disgust, I replied, “Please spare me from Bratva misogyny.”
Dima’s expression sobered. “Speaking of Bratva, Father has requested your presence for dinner this evening.”
At his reference to my loathsome sperm donor’s command, I stiffened. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“He told me his requests have gone unanswered.”
Normally, I could go weeks, if not months from having to hear from Father. Considering I’d received numerous texts over the last couple of days, I knew something was up.
And that scared the hell out of me.
Deflecting from my fear, I asked, “His requests or his secretary pretending to be him?”
