I can’t ask Viktor because he’d probably try to kill me for even thinking romantically about his sister.
If only I knew where her mind’s at, it would help a great deal.
“We’re going to Vegas this weekend. You want to come? I could use the company while babysitting Mariya and Violet.”
A smile spreads over my face. “Sure. The break will do me good.”
We walk out of the gym, and I head to the guestroom I used to change out of my suit.
Grabbing the back of my sweat-soaked shirt, I tug the fabric over my head. Just as I turn the corner, someone slams into my chest. Instinctively my arms come up, and I grab hold of a pair of slender shoulders.
As I look down, Mariya’s eyes widen as she stares at my chest, one of her hands firmly planted on my abs.
“Good God,” she breathes, then her gaze burns over my skin until she locks eyes with me. Her pupils are dilated, her lips parted.
We stare at each other for a moment until Mariya takes a step back. She shakes her head once, turns around, and hightails it away from me.
Interesting.
The princess liked what she saw.
The corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk as I step into the guestroom so I can shower and change back into my suit.
Chapter 3
Mariya
Wearing a deep burgundy evening dress that falls softly around my body, complimented by my favorite black high-heels, I head toward the entertainment room at the back of the mansion.
The rubies my parents gave me for Christmas adorn my earlobes and neckline, and the soft scent of my favorite French perfume floats around me.
The murmur of voices blends with soft classical music. Like they do every year, my parents arranged a birthday party for me. A handful of the guests have business relations with the bratva, and the rest are from the most influential families in the world.
Entering the room, decorated with fairy lights and glittering black balloons floating against the ceiling, my gaze scans over the large group of people wearing elegant dresses and expensive suits. The catering staff moves between the guests with trays of champagne and appetizers.
Spotting Violet, my best friend, a smile tugs at my mouth as I walk to where she’s standing awkwardly in a corner.
Violet’s eyes land on me, a wide smile spreads over her gorgeous face, then she grabs me into a playful hug. “Finally, the birthday girl decided to grace us with her presence. I thought you were planning to leave me alone with all these people.”
We hug, her sweet perfume drifting to me. Violet is as introverted as they come, whereas I’m a people person. Our polar-opposite personalities complement each other well.
Her father, Tristan Hayes, and my father run a company together, so we’ve been friends since diapers.
“Shut up,” I mutter. “You saw me thirty minutes ago when you said hello.”
“For me, that’s hours too long,” she jokes.
We pull apart, and I glance over the guests. “Have you seen my parents?”
“Nope. Mine called to let me know they’re running late.”
Just then, a rush of murmurs spreads through the room. Turning toward the entrance, my lips curve up as I watch my parents walk into the entertainment room, followed by Uncle Demitri, Aunt Ariana, and Viktor.
Dad’s eyes snap in my direction, then his smile widens, love softening his gaze. Letting go of Mom, he walks to me, and the moment I’m within touching distance, he sweeps me against his broad chest. “Printsessa.” I’m engulfed in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, my baby-girl.”
I let out a happy sigh as I soak in the safety of my father’s arms. “Thank you, Daddy.”
When he lets go of me, Dad gestures in the direction of the table that’s overflowing with gifts. “All for you.”
Yeah, I’m spoiled rotten.
I’m not ashamed to admit I’m a daddy’s girl. I have the best father in the world. Alexei Koslov might be one of the most dangerous men this planet has ever seen, but to me, he’s safety, love, and home.
He’s also the reason I’m still single at twenty-six. There isn’t a man alive that’s brave enough to date me. A one-night stand, sure. But the moment things become serious and they have to meet Dad or Viktor, they run away with their tails tucked between their legs. Cowards.
Mom moves closer. “Give me a hug before we get the party started.”
I wrap my arms around her, and for a solid minute, we just hold each other before she whispers, “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Mami.” With Dad being Russian and Mom Colombian, I’ve learned some Russian and Spanish growing up. Mostly terms of endearment and curse words.
As Mom pulls away, I hear movement behind me. Before I can glance over my shoulder, strong arms wrap around me, and I’m lifted from my feet. “Viktor!” I shriek, laughter bubbling over my lips.