Vittoria's POV

The ride home? Uneventful. Alfred got his chance to do his American duty and sing for us, despite our pleas to stay quiet. When Matthew finally told Alfred too, and I quote, "Shut your trap," the silence in the car would've been laughable if not for the lone, hostile periwinkle eyes that warned us of repercussions if we furthered our playtime.

The trio of unawesome assholes-Gilbert's words, not mine-were still angry at us for our little boating incident. Frankly, I didn't see the issue. We brought joy to their boring lives and every single person on that beach got to experience just a tiny bit of what it was like to live the lives of the Rossi sisters.

When we arrived home, everyone was quick to scramble out of the car and be away from the smell of pungent lakewater that now permeated the car. None of us noticing the extra large shipping container that had been sitting on our porch for who knows how long. "Aw hell no," Madelyn groaned, trudging her way up to the steps and bypassing the container completely with a murmured "You deal with this," before disappearing inside

I idly wondered if the units were conscious in the box. I longed to shower but I refused to do so before whoever was tucked away in the container was alive and well. Passing my items over to Matthew I didn't even bother to ask for help moving the box inside. After cleaning up sawdust from every crevice of the house one learns to work smarter not harder. Toiling my way over to the porch, I unceremoniously lifted the manual that would make or break my sister and I's sanity

Handle with caution. Ivan "Russia" Braginsky lays inside

Despite the warning, I squealed like a stuck pig in excitement, piquing the curiosity of the others to see who would be joining the growing household. Curses were effectively squashed with elbows to the gut as I ran into the house, looking for something that was 'Russian' enough for the personification of Russia. Before she could find anything though, the sound of wood breaking and a girly scream reverberated around the house.

I walked outside-I am far too lazy to run and found a single, pale hand wrapped around Alfred's sunkissed throat. Following the hand, I froze as I saw it was coming from the box. "What happened," I questioned, unsure whether to save Alfred or flick him for doing something to cause this.

"He called the man a Commie bastard," Alistair answered, looking a tad frightened as he stood with arms crossed over the scene. I decided to save the flick for later and grabbed the crowbar that lay on the porch after all the boxes needing to be opened regularly. I didn't trust anyone to not use the crowbar if it was in the house so here it was, ready for my use.

I handed Gilbert the crowbar, giving a sweet smile at his terrified glance. The fear of my wrath was greater than any Russian though and he began to pry the box open. As soon as he began to open the box the hand shot back inside as if waiting like a pit viper. "Ivan," I called, moving Alfred behind me, "I will get Madelyn, my sister, to explain to Alfred some manners later on. Are you hungry? I don't know any Russian cuisine, but I make a mean spaghetti."

There was no response until the lid was fully off. Two large hands appeared from the box, gripping the edge and using that Ivan pushed himself to his full height. I couldn't help but give a warm grin that he answered in return, his eyes closing from the smile as he nodded at me. "I'm quite famished, I could use some vodka as well but if you have champagne I will settle with that for now."

The other men scurried out of the way like total wussies as the Russian climbed fully out of the box. His smile dimming and eyes opening to show bright violet eyes that almost seemed to give off an unnatural glow. I had to tilt my head upwards to look Ivan in the face and I held out my hand in a friendly gesture, "Vittoria's my name don't wear it out."

I was pleased to find his hands were quite warm as he gripped my own with confidence, only the fingertips cold as ice. "Ivan Braginsky," he returned my greeting and I smiled at his manners.

"I know, You're a lot nicer than they try to make you out to be." Bless my bluntness, the hisses of disapproval from the other men snapped me out of my reverie and I pulled away, giving Ivan a quick glance before turning my attention to the others. "Clean this up, he's hungry," I demanded, trying to put on my best Madelyn voice before falling into a fit of giggles at the grumbles of displeasure behind me as I escaped into the house with the Russian on my trail.

Madelyn's POV

I lifted my head from my sprawled position on the couch when I heard Vitti return, "Who was it this time?" The words had just left my mouth when I noticed the large silver haired man standing behind my sister, "Oh, I see. You must be Ivan." Honestly, I'm getting to the point where almost nothing surprises me anymore.

I stood and shuffled over to the man and craned my head back to meet his eyes as I stuck out my hand. "My name is Madelyn Rossi, welcome to our home." I smiled slightly as Ivan took my hand in his with a smile of his own.

"Ivan Braginsky."

AN: Ahhh the story is really on a roll now, don't forget to read review and let us know what you'd like to see in the story and we'll consider putting it in!!