Ruthless King: A Dark Mafia Romance: War of Roses Universe (Mice and Men Book 1)

and her neatly coiled brunette hair with the other. As she eyes the dress, a hesitant smile flits across her lips, making her seem even younger than she already does. If she claimed to be my age, I doubt anyone would be able to tell the difference from a glance. The only flaw in her delicate beauty is a series of faint, silver scars on the left side of her face, strategically obscured by a few loose brown curls.
“I know it’s a bit much,” she admits, referring to the dress. “I wasn’t sure of the style, but Mischa insisted. What do you think?”
Whatever she sees in my expression emboldens her to approach the bed.
Gingerly, she drapes the fabric over her arm before turning to me. “May I?” she asks.
I nod, and she positions the garment against my body, circling to stand behind me. I catch sight of myself in a floor-length mirror in the far corner. The girl I find staring back could be a stranger, but I can’t tell if it’s because her dress is so beyond my usual fashion scope.
Or because her face is so unnaturally blank.
“It’s going to look stunning on you,” Ellen murmurs while smoothing a stray bit of hair behind my ear. “You are stunning. I know I’ve blathered on about it so many times, but…” Her lips strain to conceal another smile. “We are so very proud of you. Mischa can’t stop talking about your accomplishments, and the girls were pestering me all week about your arrival. I’m surprised you even made it inside the house without getting ambushed—”
“You’re back.” As if on cue, a slender boy slips across the doorway, proving her point moot. Whip-thin, with wild blond curls, he’s like a miniature version of Ellen. Her smile widens as he draws up to her side.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was home already, Aunt Ellen?” he demands, his tone as inquisitive as always.
“Eli, darling, I’ve only just found out, like you.” She pinches his cheek playfully, laughing as he swats her off. Turning to me, she cocks an eyebrow, her gaze skeptical. “It seems Miss Willow thought she could sneak in and circumvent the surprise your papa has planned for her.”
“I told him she wouldn’t like it,” Eli smugly declares, crossing his arms. The motion makes him look older than eleven. He’s grown so much since I’ve been gone. Some of the baby fat has left his cheeks, revealing a bone structure enhancing his resemblance to the woman standing beside him. Wearing a plain white shirt and jeans, he could be a carbon copy of Mischa as well.
More nostalgia constricts my chest. I remember the days we used to play together in these very halls. At night, we’d sneak out to the gardens and race beneath the moon. I couldn’t love any brother more, be them related to me by blood or not.
But he’s not the first, a cruel voice in my mind whispers. I try to ignore the memories, but they unfurl anyway. Those of another boy, older, but no less tolerant of me. Always patient, he used to braid my hair to keep it clean before we played hide and seek. Wide from behind his glasses, his brown eyes only ever radiated kindness and joy. Vincenzo...
“Will?” Eli’s voice draws me back, and I find him watching me with that mature curiosity again. Before he can say anything else, I step forward, my arms outstretched. He blinks, but within seconds he’s throwing his arms around me as Ellen gently moves the gown out of reach.
“The twins, reunited at last,” she says with a wistful sigh.
I smile at the moniker—our combined nickname, despite our difference in ages, setting us apart from the other faction of this growing family. The little ones.
And as if conjured by the thought alone, the oldest of said faction comes storming into my room, several inches taller than when I saw him last.
“Get ready, Mama,” he declares, placing his hands on his hips. Dark brown curls fall haphazardly into his eyes, the same piercing blue as his mother’s. His stern, serious expression is all Mischa, however. “The girls are fussing again, and—Willow!” Argument forgotten, he throws himself toward me, muscling in beside Eli. I extend my arm around him, marveling even more at his height. Not so little anymore, he comes up to Eli’s chest, who is already an inch over my modest stature.
“Careful, Ivan,” his mother warns. “You’ll knock her over. She’s only just got home… Oh, not again!”
Cocking my head, I can easily pick up on the sound that triggered her alarm—high-pitched shrieking growing louder by the second. The next figure to teeter through my doorway just so happens to be the source of the noise—a toddler with blond curls and amber eyes wearing a tiny pink dress.
Spotting her mother, she bursts into tears. “Jona kicked me!” she declares, scampering forward to bury her face in Ellen’s skirt. “She kicked me and took my doll!”
“It was Aljona’s doll,” Ivan corrects, pointing a finger at her disapprovingly. “You took it from her first. Then you broke it and gave her the pieces.”
“Marnie!” Ellen inclines her head sharply, suddenly stern. “Is that true?”
The little girl stiffens, her cheeks flushing pink with guilt. “She started it.”
“Oh, is that so? Where is Jona now?” Ellen asks, smoothing her fingers over her daughter’s curls.
Ivan rolls his eyes with an exasperation well beyond his six and a half years. “Where else?”
From behind him, Eli flashes a crooked grin, and I can sense what’s on his mind—nothing’s changed.
“Let’s find her and sort this out,” Ellen says tiredly. Looking at me, she shrugs. “Would you mind juggling one, while I juggle the other?” She coaxes Marnie toward me.
Sniffling, the girl tugs on my hand until I scoop her into my arms and then proceeds to hide her face in the crook of my shoulder. As I start after Ellen, Marnie lifts her head long enough to murmur, “I missed you, Willa.”
I tighten my arms