Page 42 of Nikola
“I asked you a question, brother.”
She was still bobbing around, unbothered by the world.
“None of your business,” I muttered. “And get out of the fucking pool. You’re not greeting our guests wearing that skimpy bathing suit.”
She scoffed, not even attempting to move. “Coming from someone who’s usually going around shirtless. Sexist much?”
She slurped from her nearly empty drink, looking at me pointedly. Yeah, she was trying to piss me off. And failing.
For the most part.
Upon hearing familiar voices, Marietta waded through the heated water and lifted herself up on the edge of the pool as I strode across the patio.
“Thanksgiving is about to start,” I muttered under my breath. When the Nikolaev family was about to be all in one place, you needed to be fucking ready. “May the odds be in our favor.”
Thanksgiving at my family’s estate was a loud affair. My aunts and uncles always came to the Nikolaev compound in New Orleans for the celebrations. This year more so than normal because lo and behold, the Leone family was joining us for the first time ever and were due to arrive in a few hours.
Dante Leone, traditional Italian that he was, insisted Thanksgiving wasn’t a holiday they celebrated, hence the family’s refusal to join us in the past. Everyone knew the real reason was the old bastard hated sharing his wife and daughter. But this year, they’d ganged up on his patriarchal ass, and a little birdy told me his wife put her foot down: she would have Thanksgiving weekend with the Nikolaevs.
Sadly, I couldn’t even ridicule the man because I’d forgotten—or thrown to the wind—every rule when it came to Skye.
Thank fucking God nobody knew about our kisses and promiscuous incidents. Nobody would ever know until my ring was on her finger. If my uncle Sasha found out, he would go berserk. Albeit, I could take him down and eventually get him on my side.
Dante Leone, I feared, would be a tougher nut to crack.
But hey, I’d always been up for a challenge.
It didn’t take long for my sister to catch up, working on tightening the towel around herself, and we made our way through the large terrace.
When we arrived at the main foyer, we were greeted by the Brady Bunch, otherwise known as the Konstantin family.
“I certainly hope you’re not joining us for Thanksgiving dinner wearingthat,” my aunt drawled snobbishly.
“Aunt Tatiana,” Marietta exclaimed and ran over to her, throwing herself at Mom’s best friend. “Of course not. I’m wearing the Chanel dress you sent me last month.”
Just beyond them, Dad shook hands with Illias Konstantin, exchanging a few words.
“God forbid you put on normal jeans and a blouse,” Mom muttered, rolling her eyes while hugging her three godchildren—Astor, Anushka, and Adrik Konstantin.
Aunt Tati shot her a horrified look. “I certainly hope ablouseis not what you plan on wearing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “In fact it is.”
“I think you’ll look great,” Anushka said, beaming at my mom. She paused, looking excited. That one should have been Mom’s child. “Can I go with you if you get called, Aunt Bella?”
My twenty-one-year-old cousins Astor and Anushka were every parent’s dream. Sensible. Responsible. And boring as fuck. Everything my sister and I weren’t—and that was okay. We’d made our peace with being the rowdy, wild kids in the family long ago.
“I don’t know why you’d want to go. Blood makes you squeamish,” Adrik said, cocking his brow. “Remember when I came back home with blood splattered on my?—”
I cut him off. “You mean that time you ripped flesh from that asshole's body the way I taught you?”
“Shut up, you two.” Anushka glared at us, her complexion turning pale.
“Make us,” Adrik challenged, his pale blue eyes gleaming.
Nowhewas definitely a Nikolaev. He’d terrorized the entire West Coast, much to his father’s dismay, hence why the two of us got along great, despite him being younger than me.
Before Anushka could respond, Uncle Alexei strode in with his wife, Aunt Aurora, and their three children, and suddenly I was no longer interested in stirring shit up between siblings.I took long strides toward them and yanked Kostya by his silk black shirt.
