Chapter Four
10 YEARS AND 9 MONTHS EARLIER, MOSCOW
“I hate winter holidays,” I tell Konstantin as he sets up my new gaming computer. “I really do.”
His gaze doesn’t leave the screen as his fingers fly over the keyboard. “You hate seeing me?”
“No, silly, not you.” My oldest brother is my favorite, in fact. “I’m talking about that.” I circle my finger in the air to indicate the raised voices filtering into my room through the air vent.
My parents think that because the walls in our penthouse are thick, nobody can hear them fighting, but I can. I always hear them.
Konstantin finally looks at me, his hazel eyes distracted behind his glasses. “Ah, yes, that.”
He goes back to installing the software, and I plop onto my bed with a sigh. As much as I love Kostya, his emotional IQ is far bel
