Page 2 of The Devil We Crave
“No apologies necessary. That outfit isinsane,” Galina gushes, arching her brows at Lucia's frankly stunning black dress. The short, strappy number looks incredible on her, and the lack of sleeves does a stellar job of showing off her huge collection of tattoos that I know make my not-really-my-aunt Naomi groan.
“Thanks,” Lucia blushes.
“Dior?” Galina asks.
Lucia nods and cocks a brow at me. “Your mom gave it to me when I was in the city a few weeks ago and said I could keep it. That okay?”
I smile warmly and wave her off. “Like you even have to ask?”
My mother, Milena, made such a splash as a professional ballerina with the Zakharova Ballet in New York that when she retired she was immediately picked up by Dior as one of their top brand ambassadors. So, not only is there never a shortage of their stuff in the closets of our household, it’s also not uncommon to be riding the subway or walking through Times Square and be suddenly confronted with my mother’s gorgeous, smiling face in an ad.
My mom, the beautiful fashion model, and my dad, the powerful mafia don.
Yeah, no pressure living up tothat,right?
I turn to check my reflection in the full-length mirror, adjusting the delicate chain around my neck with the little silver wolf pendant that Dad gave me years ago and then fussing with the dark blue, long-sleeved tunic top with the flared skirt over black leggings.
I used to wear a lot more stuff like Lucia’s fit. But not since this past summer.
Not sincehim.
I clench my teeth together.
Tonight, that asshole’s going to pay.
“Cute,” Galina gushes as she steps next to me, eying the pink and white sundress she’s wearing in the mirror. “But it’s still warm at night for fall. You sure you won’t be too hot in the leggings? You could borrow my red skirt?”
I snort. “The one your Papa hates?”
She grins. “Please. Papa hates anything that shows my ankles.Dad, meanwhile, thinks it’s cute as fuck.”
I laugh. Galina’s Papa, my pseudo-uncle Roman, is somewhat grumpy and gruff. But he’s thepakhanof the Nikitin Bratva, so that tracks. Meanwhile, her dad, Val, who used to be a dancer at the Zakharova with my mother—and Lucia's and Wren's too—is the sort of parent who’ll gowith youto get your first tattoo. He and Roman are complete opposites, yet they're probably the cutest married couple I know.
Aside from my own parents, that is.
Lucia grins and accepts the coffee mug of wine that Wren—who’s on her second—hands her. I arch a brow at my best friend when she tops up her mug a third time, but don’t say anything. Wren’s goingthrough itright now, after her shithead of an ex, Bryce, broke up with her over the summer.
While he wasinsideanother girl.
No, really.
I mean, Bryce is a piece of shit loser and Wren waswaytoo good for him. But telling your girlfriend “I think we should take a break” when she walks in on you mid-pump with another girl? Gross.
“So.” Lucia glances at us. “What’d I miss?”
“Galina getting horny for social media again,” Ari sighs.
Lucia giggles. “More MaskTok?”
“Um,yeah?” Galina snorts. “And don’t lie just ‘cause Ari is being all judgy. You know you watch it too.”
Lucia takes a sip of wine, groaning. “Ok, guilty. I blame you, you know.”
“I’d be very offended if you didn’t,” Galina says primly.
What cracks me up the most about Galina’s drooling obsession with tattooed, knife-wielding psychos on TikTok is thatapartfrom that, she’s probably one of the most wholesome girls at Knightsblood. It doesn’t hurt that she’s a complete daddy’s girl princess withtwodads, either of which could separate the head from the body of any boy who even looked at Galina the wrong way.
I should know. My dad’s the same.
