Chapter Twenty-four #2
He lifts her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles, pure old-world gentleman, the kind that makes my chest tighten in a strange mix of pride and nerves. Reina laughs softly and pulls him into a hug that feels maternal, familiar, full of affection.
Her gaze shifts to me, and when it lands, it softens.
“Serena,” she says warmly. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”
I smile before I even realize it, the tension in my shoulders loosening just a little. Maybe coming here wasn’t a mistake after all.
“I’m Reina,” she continues, gesturing to the girl beside her. “And this is my youngest daughter, Anastasia.”
I take Reina’s hand, then Anastasia’s. “I’m Serena. It’s really lovely to meet you.”
The girls step closer then, drawn in by the warmth of the moment.
“These are Sienna, Kylie, and Clara,” I say, introducing them. “My friends. Thank you so much for inviting us. This place is. . . devastating.” The word slips out naturally. There’s no other way to describe it.
Reina laughs, clearly pleased. “Thank you for coming. Honestly, I would have been bored to death if I had to spend Christmas with just the boys.”
As if summoned by the comment, Lev appears beside us.
“Rude, Rey,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Then he turns his attention to Anastasia. “Hi, peasant.”
I choke back a laugh.
“You’re so annoying,” Anastasia snaps. “Why does my father keep inviting you to family gatherings?”
“Because I am family,” Lev replies easily, grinning.
She scoffs, steps closer as if to shove him, and the next thing I know, he’s lifting her effortlessly and slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Anastasia shrieks in protest, hitting his back with her fists while he laughs.
Reina shakes her head, amused. “You’d think they were born to the same mother. They’re not related at all, but they act like real siblings.”
“She still calls him cousin,” she adds fondly.
“I agree with her,” Lorenzo says dryly. “Lev is the most annoying human alive.”
Reina smiles at him with pure affection.
“And yet, you love him.”
Andres appears then, wounded expression firmly in place. “I think you forgot someone, Reina. No hug? No kiss? I’m offended.”
“Oh,” she says immediately, stepping into him. “My favorite teddy bear.”
She wraps him in a warm hug, and Andres grins like he’s just won something important, shooting Lorenzo a smug look. Lorenzo only shakes his head.
I can’t help but smile. There’s something strangely comforting about seeing them like this. Powerful men reduced to boys around one woman.
A deep voice cuts through the laughter.
“Are you boys hovering around my wife again?”
I turn and meet Kirill for the first time. Tall, broad, commanding, with an air of authority that doesn’t need to announce itself. This must be him.
“No need to be jealous, Kirill,” Andres says cheerfully. “Your prime has passed. Though, to be fair, you’re still not terrible.”
Kirill snorts. Andres, clearly satisfied with provoking him, winks at Reina, who laughs and swats his arm lightly.
“I’m going to ignore these naglets,” Kirill mutters.
Lorenzo leans close to my ear. “It means brats,” he whispers, smiling as if he’s reading my thoughts.
Kirill’s gaze shifts to us then, sharp but curious. “Look at these beautiful ladies,” he says, gesturing to the girls. “Of course, not as beautiful as my wife.”
“Kirill,” Reina scolds him. “That’s incredibly rude.”
The girls burst into laughter.
Kirill turns his attention fully to me. “Serena,” he says, studying me openly now. “I saw pictures, but seeing you in person. . . I understand why Lorenzo went through so much trouble for you.”
The words settle deep in my chest.
“So you’re the woman we went to war for.”
The voice comes from Kirill’s other side, sharp and unapologetic, and when I turn, I meet the gaze of a woman who looks like she could burn a room down simply by standing in it.
She’s beautiful in a dangerous way, the kind that doesn’t ask for attention because it assumes it.
Confidence clings to her like a second skin.
“Try not to bite her,” Lorenzo says dryly, watching him with faint amusement. “We’re attempting to appear civilized.”
She snorts, dragging her gaze over him from head to toe like she’s evaluating damaged goods. “I genuinely don’t see what she sees in you,” she says flatly. “She’s so far out of your league it’s embarrassing.”
I can’t help it. A smile breaks free before I can stop it. Oh. I like her.
Kirill clears his throat, half-proud, half-exasperated. “This is my eldest daughter, Alisa. And I’m Kirill,” he adds unnecessarily. “I assume you’ve already met my wife and my youngest.”
I nod, still studying Alisa. The contrast between the sisters is striking.
Anastasia is clearly her mother’s daughter.
Blonde curls, soft blue eyes, elegance woven into every movement.
Alisa, on the other hand, is unmistakably Kirill’s.
Darker. Sharper. Brown hair falling straight down her back, green eyes that miss nothing.
Black seems to be her color of choice. A tailored black jumpsuit, a fur coat draped over her shoulders, black heels that click confidently against the marble floor.
She looks like someone who doesn’t wait to be protected.
She looks like someone who does the protecting.
“It’s really nice to finally meet you,” I say softly, meaning it. Then, without thinking too much, I add, “Alisa, you’re gorgeous.”
For a fraction of a second, something shifts in her expression. The sharpness softens. Almost like regret flickers there, just briefly, as if the weight of her earlier words suddenly landed.
I catch it.
And my smile fades just a little.
Went to war for me.
The phrase echoes in my head, heavy and unsettling.
I glance between them, my hand instinctively tightening around Lorenzo’s. What war? What did I miss?
“Dinner is ready. Let’s go,” Reina says warmly, already turning toward us.
“I’ll be right back,” Lorenzo murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.
I watch him leave with Andres, Lev, Julian, and Kirill, their shoulders broad and their movements purposeful as they disappear into a different wing of the house.
Alisa follows them without hesitation. They all pause instinctively, holding the door for her, letting her step through first. She looks young, barely eighteen, but there is nothing fragile about her.
Power clings to her like perfume. I have no doubt she will rule something one day. Maybe everything.
Whatever is happening tonight, it is not just Christmas dinner.
Reina guides us into a vast living room, warm and glowing with soft lights and gold accents. Everything feels lived in yet immaculate, like love and discipline coexist here naturally.
“Your house is amazing, Reina,” Kylie says, spinning slightly as she takes it all in. “I hope I’ll be like this one day. A loving husband, children, and ruling the house like a queen.” She giggles.
Reina smiles at her with genuine affection. “You will get everything you wish for, darling.”
“Have you always lived in New York?” Sienna asks as we begin helping set the table.
Before Reina can answer, a woman in her fifties steps closer, her accent thick and unmistakably Russian. “Mrs. Volkov, I will prepare the table. Do not worry.”
Reina turns immediately, shaking her head. “Olga, you have done so much today. Please go home and enjoy Christmas with your family.” She pulls her into a hug. “Kirill left gifts for your children and grandchildren in the kitchen.”
Olga’s eyes widen, her hand flying to her mouth. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Volkov,” she says, tears spilling freely.
Reina takes her hands gently. “Thank you for everything you do for us. Have a happy Christmas.”
Olga nods repeatedly before leaving, wiping her eyes. My chest tightens. Kindness like that cannot be faked.
“Sorry, darling,” Reina says, returning to us as she begins arranging napkins. “We moved here when I was eighteen. After Kirill and I got married.”
“You married young,” Sienna blurts out.
I shoot her a look. She winces and gives me an apologetic smile.
Reina only laughs softly. “It was an arranged marriage,” she says calmly. “I assume you already know who we are,” she adds, glancing around the room, “with all these guards.” Her gaze lingers on me. “And Serena, I believe you know who you are with as well.”
Kylie disappears into the kitchen to help Clara, leaving just the three of us.
“Kirill’s father was the Pakhan at the time,” Reina continues. “My father was his right hand. Best friends. Still are.” She smooths a napkin thoughtfully. “In the Bratva, love marriages are rare. Ours was arranged to strengthen the alliance. I was the perfect match for the future Pakhan.”
Her voice is steady, but there is history in every word.
“Was it hard?” Sienna asks quietly. “Marrying that young?”
Reina smiles knowingly. “I hated Kirill at first. He was five years older, and I was in love with my bodyguard.” She laughs softly. “At least, I thought I was.”
Her eyes meet mine now, focused, deliberate. “It took time. A lot of it. Marrying a powerful man costs you pieces of your soul. It hurts. More than people admit. But the love that grows from it, if you are lucky, makes it worth everything.”
She exhales slowly. “Kirill became a wonderful husband. An incredible father. My everything. I don’t regret it.”
“That’s beautiful,” Sienna whispers, tears shimmering in her eyes.
Reina opens her arms. “Come here, both of you.”
We step into her embrace, warmth surrounding us instantly.
“I have known these men since they were eighteen,” she says quietly. “They are infuriating, commanding, arrogant.” She smiles. “But they love deeply. Fiercely. There is so much more behind their reputations.”
Now I understand why Lorenzo clings to them like family. Why he trusts them. Why he loves her.