Page 40 of Forced Bratva Bride

“Ignore him,” I muttered. “He's twelve.”

“I'm twenty-eight, you fossil,” Achille corrected, grinning at Larissa. “But you are a sight for sore eyes!”

Larissa blushed. Actually blushed.

Achille walked ahead of us, leading us into the house. Without thought, I wrapped an arm around Larissa’s shoulder and pulled her closer. “Be careful. He’s a sweet talker.”

Larissa looked up at me and giggled as she rose onto her toes. Her mouth approached my ear, and I felt a tingle down my spine as she whispered, “I figured.”

This moment transported me to another time and dimension. If anyone saw us, we could have passed for a couple, and a deep nostalgia came over me, for a thing that never existed in the first place.

The realization was confusing and messed with my head. I pulled away with a polite smile just as we entered the living room.

“Look who just came!” Achille announced proudly.

“Hello, hello!” Federico said, coming over to greet us.

Inside, Dante's house buzzed with the familiar chaos of a Lebedev gathering. Luca was arguing with Dante over something at the drinks table, both gesturing wildly at each other as they drank. In the corner, my sisters Elena and Beatrice were picking at the cheese from the grazing table, their heads bent together as they gossiped over their wine.

Dante handed us some drinks, and I rolled my eyes as I led Larissa to introduce her to my sisters, the only two people she hadn’t met, besides Caspian and Kate, who were still on their honeymoon.

“They’re so engrossed in their little gossip, they haven’t even noticed we’ve arrived,” I complained to Larissa.

Larissa just giggled. “I always wanted sisters,” she said sweetly, not minding their lack of attention. “They’re lucky to have one another.”

“Ladies,” I said loudly as we reached the grazing table, “I've brought someone for you to meet. A guest. This here is Larissa.”

Both women turned, their expressions shifting curiosity as they eyed Larissa. Elena was dressed in a simple, elegant dress. Beatrice, on the other hand, was a riot. Five years younger to her, she was our family's firecracker, currently sporting electric blue highlights in her black hair and a sparkly dress that probably cost more than my gardener's salary.

“So this is why Gio's been missing family dinners,” Beatrice said kindly, approaching with her hand outstretched. “I'm Bea. The cool sister.”

“Stop kidding yourself,” Elena countered with a smirk. “I'm Elena.”

Larissa smiled. “It's lovely to meet you both. Your brother's told me such lovely things about you.”

I looked at her with surprise. That was a sweet white lie. I’d hardly mentioned my family to her, and all she knew of them was from their first-hand interactions, and that too only with my brothers.

“All lies,” Bea said cheerfully. “We are the thorns in our brother’s side.”

“That’s true,” Elena countered. She then motioned to the grazing table. “Hungry?”

“Yes, actually,” Larissa said. Once again, I was dumbfounded. She had just told me in the car how full she felt from all the cake she had eaten with her coffee that evening. She picked up a plate and began to serve herself.

Then, I realized what she was doing. She was finding a conversation starter with my sisters. An opening of sorts.

“This looks delicious,” Larissa commented as she picked up some canapes.

“Tiny, though. Don’t you think?” Bea frowned at the appetizer. “Dante's new chef is French and has no concept of portion sizes for Italian appetites.”

“Everything French is always so fancy,” Larissa giggled. “But we can forgive them for making us feel like outright bumpkins, considering how they’ve given us Paris.”

“Have you ever been?” Elena asked curiously. Before I knew it, they were discussing their travels.

I watched, transfixed, as my sisters and Larissa became fast friends. They were simply three women laughing together as if they had known each other for years. It was disarming to see, especially knowing how guarded my sisters typically were around newcomers, as most either sought favor or viewed them as a threat.

Yet there was Larissa, helping Elena arrange stuffed mushrooms on a platter while Bea kept them entertained with a story that had them all laughing in stitches. Not once did Larissa glance over her shoulder at me as though asking to be saved. She moved like she belonged, like this was her world and she’d forgotten all about me.

“So,” Federico's voice reached my ears as he appeared by Larissa’s side. “It’s been weeks since that night you helped our brothers. How have you been?”

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