Chapter 124: Again and Yet Not
The morning sun was a brute, hammering the terrace stones into blinding plates of white heat. Beth stood at the balustrade, coffee cooling between her palms, watching the sea churn below. The relative peace of the previous night felt like a debt now coming due.
“You didn’t sleep,” Damien said, coming up behind her. He wore a plain white t-shirt and dark shorts, but the casual look did nothing to soften him. The tattoos on his arms, the watchful set of his shoulders, they were part of his architecture.
“I slept.” She took a sip. The coffee was bitter. “I just also thought.”
“About them.”
She nodded, not taking her eyes off the horizon where a speedboat was carving a sharp white line toward the private dock. “Polina and Isaak. When we were kids, before everything… we were a unit. A four-headed monster. We had our own language, practically.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Dove would follow Isaak everywhere. Polina and I… we’d plan heists on the kitchen pantry. It was simple.”
Damien leaned beside her, his shoulder just brushing hers. A point of contact. “Grief rewrites the map.”
“Theirs redrew the borders,” she said, her voice flattening. “After my mom went away, it was like a switch flipped. We weren’t the cousins who lost Elena. We were the American mistakes that cost them their aunt. ‘Mutt’ was the nicest thing Polina called me for a year.”
The speedboat’s engine cut, the sudden silence feeling heavier than the noise. Two figures disembarked, their movements efficient and synchronized.
Even from this distance, they were unmistakable. Polina Novak led, her posture a straight line of impatience. Platinum hair in a severe ponytail, sunglasses hiding her eyes, a sleeveless linen sheath dress that looked both expensive and like it could conceal a blade. Isaak followed, taller, broader, moving with a languid, athletic grace. He carried a single leather duffel as if it weighed nothing.
“They look friendly,” Damien remarked.
“Oh, they are. They’re just friendly on their own terms.” Beth pushed away from the railing. “Showtime.”
They met in the grand foyer, the chandelier’s light a cold spotlight. Dimitri was already there, a silent pillar of observation.
“Betsenka,” Polina said, her voice a smooth alto. She removed her sunglasses, revealing eyes the color of Arctic ice. She didn’t smile. She assessed, her gaze sweeping over Beth, then locking onto Damien with the intensity of a scanner. “You look well. For a rancher.”
“And you look like you just closed a hostile takeover,” Beth replied, her tone light but with an edge. “How was Vienna?”
“Profitable.” Polina’s attention didn’t waver from Damien. “And you must be the Italian renaissance. We’ve heard stories.”
Isaak finally stepped forward, offering a hand to Beth first. His grip was firm, brief. “Beth.” His voice was quieter than his sister’s, but it carried. He nodded at Damien. “Rossi.”
“A pleasure,” Damien said, his charm switched on, a gleaming, defensive weapon. “Your father’s hospitality has been remarkable.”
“He has a lot of it to give,” Polina said, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Come. We’re missing the sun. Let’s go be civilized on the beach.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
The private beach was a crescent of imported white sand, sheltered by the cliffs. A low wooden platform held sun loungers and a table already stocked with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket. The contrast was jarring: the picturesque luxury against the razor-wire tension.
Polina poured four glasses without asking, handing them out. “To family,” she said, lifting hers. “Complex, infuriating, but ultimately… what we have.”
They drank. The champagne was dry and viciously cold.
“So,” Polina settled onto a lounger, looking at Damien. “You reconciled. After a decade. That’s a long time to hold a torch. Or is it just convenient now? The Montgomery Ranch, the Texas connections… it’s a significant asset.”
Beth felt Damien go very still beside her. “Polina,” she warned.
“No, it’s a fair question,” Damien said, his smile easy. He took a slow sip. “Convenience is for people who don’t know what they lost. I knew. Every day.”
Isaak, silent, watched the exchange like a chess match.
“Sentimental,” Polina mused. “I’d heard you were more pragmatic.