Page 44 of Bratva Holiday
“Your sister is my wife, and if you put your hands on her again, I’ll break your fucking fingers.”
Lukyan stared Arturo dead in the eyes, took one step forward, planted his entire hand over Illayana’s whole face, and pushed.
Arturo lunged. Lyla intervened, body checking him and forcing him to a stop. He stepped left and right, still trying to get to Lukyan, but Lyla moved to follow, not allowing him to get past.
“What? What? What?” Lukyan taunted, standing behind Lyla, his arms outstretched at his sides. “What are you going to do, huh?”
“Stop hiding behind your wife and you’ll see.” Arturo snarled.
“My wife is more badass than I am. I’m not afraid to admit that.”
“Awww!” Lyla gushed. “Thank you, baby.”
“Can we get on with this?!” Aleksandr blasted, impatient. “I’m sick of waiting around. I want my trophy.”
“That trophy is mine!” Lukyan snapped, whipping to face his brother.
Aleksandr gave Lukyan a deadpan look. “You’re on six points. There’s no way you’re winning. You might as well sit out the next two games because it’s not going to make a difference if you play.”
Lukyan and Aleksandr began to argue, Illayana and Nikolai jumping in, too, the four of them switching to Russian—which was a disappointment for me because I couldn’t understand a word of it, and I always loved listening to them bicker. They were so petty.
I leaned back. So did Tatiana and Autumn.
“Did you guys know there was a trophy?” I asked. Aleksandr had never mentioned a trophy before.
“Yeah.” Tatiana sighed. “There’s one every year. They’re identical. It’s a gold trophy glued to a piece of hardwood. For the last four years, Aleksandr has taken his to be engraved with his name. I’m surprised you haven’t seen them. They’re on the mantel over the fireplace in the family room.”
An image flashed behind my eyes of said mantel. Of four golden trophies lined up, evenly spaced apart. “I didn’t realize that was what those trophies were.” I looked at my husband, and it all clicked into place. “He put them there to rub it in their faces.”
“Yep.” Tatiana nodded. “All. Year. Long.”
Autumn laughed. “I love the pettiness.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “He’s nothing if not vindictive.”
Finally, after what seemed like forever—though I was sure it was only about five minutes—Mikhail managed to bring order back and get everyone lined up and ready to go. Of course, the Volkov siblings wouldn’t be the Volkov siblings without a few snipes and digs at each other regardless of the fed-up looks Mikhail and Dimitri were throwing their way.
“Okay. This game is pretty self-explanatory, so I’m not going to waste time explaining it. You lot have wasted enough time with your bickering.” Mikhail’s glare could have set a house ablaze. “Only the first three across the finish line will score, so don’t fuck around. Full contact has been sanctioned for this game.”
Aleksandr threw a smirk down to his younger brother.
Lukyan cursed in Russian. “Why are you on my ass? Nikolai was the one pinning you down.”
Aleksandr’s brows creased, as if he had only just realized that.
“Shut the fuck up, Lukyan.” Nikolai hissed.
“All of you shut the fuck up.” Dimitri scolded.
Mikhail gestured in Dimitri’s direction with a wave of his hand. “Thank you, De—Dimitri.” He quickly recovered. “If there’s nothing else, and there better fucking not be, lets get the second to last game of the Volkov Games started. Everyone, get in your sacks.”
Lukyan, Lyla, and Illayana snickered.
A bout of nausea hit me. I took a deep breath in, trying to settle myself. That fucking sushi was going to be the damn death of me.
I picked up the potato sack, opening it and slipping my legs inside. When I pulled it up, it almost engulfed my entire body. As I looked down the line, I noticed the same could not be said for the others. Because everyone else in the family were giant behemoths compared to me, they were all pretty much forced to hunch over so they could get a solid grip on the front of the sacks.
It looked like this was a game where my significantly smaller stature was an advantage.
