𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊

𝟔 | 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐌𝐄?

𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐒, 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 lot prettier than I imagined, guaranteed, I've been focusing my attention on the busier parts of the city.

My yellow sundress swells around my hips, and my long hair around my shoulders as I spin underneath a pink rose awning in the center of Kelleher Rose Garden. The warm March sun is a heat lamp on my cheek as the fifty-degree weather blankets me.

"Are you not cold?"

My smile enlarges to a laugh as I take in my companion with dizzy eyes. His mouth upturns at the sound of my chuckle and moves higher when he notices me part from the awning and meet him near the water fountain.

Liam Arland's white smile is a compliment on my skin as I find a seat next to him. My legs cross at the same time he puts one of his hands on the back of mine. Blonde waves attack his forehead as a boast of winds have him curling into his shoulders. I continue laughing as the cold permeates the air and penetrates his jacket.

"You haven't experienced a true Russian winter if you're asking me that," I muse.

"Clearly not. It's freezing out here, princess."

Liam's shoulders relax as the wind finishes its assault. His blue eyes, sweet as igneous honey, parallel with mine, glazing over my skin so smoothly, I know I don't need a jacket. Liam notices my stare and instantly takes my hand to his mouth, planting a small kiss on my row of knuckles.

Embarrassment hits my cheeks as I remember how busted they are.

Aemon had been hassling me in the ring ever since Saint Petersburg. It's been a month since the attack in the alleyway—since I woke up alone, in the back of my car with the doors locked. Aemon had flown to me faster than usual, having screamed at the pilot to break more than one air-traffic rule as soon as I called him.

Ever since I relayed my experience to him, Aemon has been on me. In the mornings, I can expect a sparring that often has me ending up on my ass, and in the evenings, I am forced to recite different ways to escape being pinned down while Aemon pins me down.

If one brother isn't bothersome enough, I have to deal with Aeris on top of it.

Beautiful, kind—usually laid-back Aeris—has quickly become the bane of my existence, refusing to let me take another solo mission without transmission in my ear for verbal correspondence, refusing to let me have a semblance of quiet, refusing to leave me the hell alone unless I am going to bed—where I usually have to lock my door so he doesn't spend every night in it with me.

All of this so my father hears nothing of it.

I was congratulated and allowed an audience with my father when I returned, to the point where he poured us each a three-finger glass of Whiskey (which is disgusting) to officially indoctrinate me as the mafia's princess and agent. If it weren't for Aemon and Aeris's shut lips, I would be doing nothing more than entertaining abundant dates with Liam and learning how to wash a man's underwear and socks to a white perfection.