Page 51 of Mine Again
I want my sisters in my life. Always.
Mari and I are currently playing badminton in the garden against Mia. It’s the day before Gualtiero De Marco’s memorial service, and we needed something to take our minds off everything.
If I have to think about one more orchestral piece or count another bottle of champagne, whiskey, or whatever else Mari has hidden in the cellar, I’m going to rip my hair out and call it therapy.
“You’re serving like you’re trying to kill someone,” Mia says, swatting the shuttlecock back with zero effort.
“She is,” Mari replies from beside me. “That’s what happens when you assign her to logistics before giving her caffeine.”
“It was the whiskey,” I say, focusing. “Too many cases. And too much Mozart.”
“Excuses,” Mia says sweetly, returning another shot with practiced ease. I hit it with all my might.
“You know, two against one isn’t fair,” she calls out, chasing after the birdie.
“It is when you are the reigning family champion and have been undefeated for months,” I shoot back.
Before Mia can respond, someone steps onto the lawn, drawing our attention.
A man, a rather handsome one too, takes off his jacket, tosses it onto a nearby chair, and picks up the spare racket like it belongs in his hand.
He moves with a kind of confidence that doesn’t try too hard. Walking over to Mia, he stops by her side.
“Can’t have you fighting this battle on your own,” he says to her with a wink.
Mia freezes for a split second, surprised, before narrowing her eyes.
“You any good?” she asks.
He smirks. “I guess you’ll find out.”
I nudge Mari. “Who’s that?”
Mari leans in and whispers back, “Maximo Marcos. Mateo’s cousin. He must have just arrived from Chicago.”
I look at him again. He really is handsome. Cover-model material, if the magazine was something likeModern DonorCriminal Elite Weekly.
Early thirties, I’d say. Calm and in control in a way that makes everyone else subconsciously adjust to his presence. There’s a hint of arrogance too, but the kind that comes from knowing exactly who he is.
“The one taking over as Don in Chicago soon?” I ask.
Mari nods. “That’s him.”
I watch him step closer to the net, but all his focus is on Mia, whoadjusts her stance like she doesn’t care. But I see it. The way her grip on the racket tightens. The way her posture shifts, subtle but sure. She’s pretending she doesn’t notice the heat of his attention.
Why has he joined us? Playing badminton with women is not typical for men from our world. Particularly not the power players.
Mari serves, the shuttlecock flying straight to Mia. She misses the shot, stomping in frustration.
I can’t help grinning. She’d normally have nailed that.
My gaze goes back to Maximo. He’s watching Mia… intently.
Is he interested in her?
Well, if he is, he has his work cut out for him.
This should be fun.
