Three days later, the house had... recovered.
Mostly.
Francesco was still dramatic about his injury.
Darina was still quieter than usual—but better.
Eating more. Sleeping more.
Staying close.
And the tension?
Still there.
But softer.
Manageable.
At least until—
Valentino clapped his hands once in the living room.
"I'm bored."
Matteo, sprawled on an armchair, didn't even look at him.
"Tragic."
Vladimir leaned back on the couch.
"Go flirt with someone."
"I already did," Valentino replied smoothly. "Three times today."
Ivan rolled his eyes.
"Of course you did."
Valentino ignored them and turned, eyes lighting up slightly.
"We should go out."
"No," Dimitri said immediately.
"Yes," Valentino said at the exact same time.
"No," Matteo repeated.
Valentino smiled slowly.
"Opera."
Silence.
Then—
Francesco sat up.
"...you're joking."
"I'm serious."
Vladimir blinked.
"Opera?"
"Yes."
Matteo let out a short laugh.
"You want to take us to people screaming dramatically for three hours?"
Valentino placed a hand over his chest.
"It's called culture."
Dimitri crossed his arms.
"It's called torture."
Ivan snorted.
Francesco pointed at Valentino.
"You cry at operas, don't you?"
Valentino looked offended.
"I appreciate emotion."
"You cry," Francesco repeated.
"I do not."
"You absolutely do," Vladimir added.
Matteo shook his head.
"This is the worst idea you've ever had."
Valentino turned to Darina.
"Tell them."
Everyone's eyes shifted to her.
Darina, who had been curled up quietly on the couch, blinked.
"...what?"
Valentino smiled.
"Opera."
She hesitated.
Then—
YOU ARE READING
Blood Between Us
Teen FictionHer mother's sons. Her father's sons. Her half-brothers raised to rule, raised to destroy each other. To them, she isn't just blood-she's possession, weakness, leverage... and the one thing neither side will surrender. As rivalry turns ruthless and...
