Page 10 of Love to Defy You (The Dark Love #2)

Willow

I’m drunk, and I’m panicking.

When I stumbled into the apartment after barhopping with Josie, Alek wasn’t home. I checked every room in this colossal penthouse, but there was no sign of Alek, and when I tried calling him, his phone rang on the bedside dresser. His textbook lies open on the bed, wrapped in tangled sheets.

Alek isn’t here, but his phone is, and that isn’t normal. How long am I supposed to wait before calling the police?

I call Josie to ask what I should do, but the call goes to voicemail, and her posh accent rattles off a standard recorded message.

“Biiitch, pick up your phone,” I slur. “Call me as soon as you get this.” When I try to end the call, my finger slips on the screen, and I tap a few more times until I get it. “I’m way too drunk for this shit.”

If my feet didn’t hurt so much from those stupid heels, I’d be pacing the living room right now. But instead, I’m glued to the couch, chewing on my thumbnail and bouncing my leg while I watch the front door like a hawk.

Come to think of it, it’s probably for the best that I’m not pacing on my feet, since the floor is tilted at an angle.

The front door opens, and when Alek crosses the threshold, I leap off the sofa and scream. “Thank God, you’re all right. Where were you?” When I stand up to greet him, I grab the wall to keep from falling over. “Wait, where’s your shirt?” I glance down at his dirty feet. “And your shoes?”

He shuts the door behind him and leans against it, clutching his side. With a groan, he rests his head against the door and closes his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I amble up to him, but when his face swims into better focus, I gasp. His lip is bleeding, and a purple bruise rims one of his eyes. “Oh, my God, what happened?”

I stumble into his arms, and he catches me before I fall. He envelops me in his warm embrace and buries his face into my neck, inhaling deeply. “You’re drunk, malishka .”

“Yeah, well... that’s not important right now.” I lean away and take his face in my hands so I can get a closer look at his injuries. “Were you mugged?”

“No.”

I take his hand and lead him toward the kitchen, and he grabs my shoulders so I don’t swerve into the wall. I point at a barstool at the island and start to rummage through the cabinets. “Where’d we put the first aid kit?”

Instead, Alek washes his hands and wets a kitchen towel, which he holds to his lip. “Check under the sink.”

By some miracle, I manage to crouch down without falling over, and I locate the first aid kit. I pull it out and set it on the counter, then use the corner to pull myself upright.

Alek snorts. “Please tell me your dress didn’t ride up like that at the bar.”

I glance down, and my skirt is bunched up around my waist to expose a lacy black thong. “Ah, shit. I hope not.”

Shaking his head, Alek opens the lid and rummages for supplies.

“Here, let me do that for you.” I reach out and make a grabby motion with my fingers.

“You can barely hold yourself upright.” He glances up at me with an arched eyebrow. “I’d rather you not poke my eye out, thank you.” Alek pulls out some gauze and wraps it around his busted knuckles.

I slump into a barstool at the counter. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”

He continues to wrap his knuckles in silence before tying off the end.

“Alek? Come on. If you got mugged, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about—“

“I didn’t get mugged.” He sighs and rests his palms flat on the counter, then hangs his head. “I think this was some sort of hazing ritual.”

I scrunch my nose. “What, like a fraternity thing?”

“Yeah.” He falls quiet, staring at his bandaged hand.

“I thought fraternities and sororities were an American thing?”

He shrugs.

I huff. “Well, in any case, we should report this to the university or the police or something.”

“Don’t bother.” He pushes off the counter and walks out of the kitchen. “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”

When he turns the corner, I catch a glimpse of a purple bruise on his rib cage. “Jesus Christ, what did they do to you?”

Without turning around, he holds up his hand and waves me off.

“Alek, wait—“

He ignores me and disappears down the hallway without another word. I pull myself up from the barstool and follow him, keeping my hand on the wall to find my balance.

When I enter the bedroom, he’s sitting on the edge of the mattress. He winces when he lies back against the pillows.

I take a seat on the opposite side of the bed. “Alek, talk to me.”

“I said, I’m tired,” he snaps. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But—“

“Willow, drop it.” He gingerly rolls over onto his unbruised side, facing away from me.

Alek called me Willow, not malishka . He only does that when he’s upset with me, but I’m not sure what I did to deserve it. If worrying about him is a crime, then sue me.

“Fine.” I stand up and head into the closet, slamming the door behind me. Hopefully, he gets the message that I’m pissed.

After shedding my dress, I change into one of the silk negligees hanging on my side of the closet. I pick the sheerest, sexiest one I can find just to spite him.

But when I emerge from the closet, Alek doesn’t notice. He’s fast asleep, and the dark bruise on his rib cage rises and falls with each rattling breath.

The next day, I sit cross-legged on the ottoman in my closet, staring at my phone in one hand and my Kindle in the other. The time reads 6:59 p.m.

The clear plastic case on my Kindle shows the mishmash of bookish stickers I’ve collected over the past year. My favorite is a black sticker with the outline of red hands wrapped around a girl’s neck, with the words Choke Me written in white font.

When my phone vibrates with a video call, I pick up on the first ring. Prisha Agrawal’s thick glasses fill the screen from edge to edge, magnifying her dark eyes. Her black hair is tied into a braid, like always, and hangs over her shoulder and down her front.

“Prisha!” I squeal. “How’s Georgetown? I want to hear all about it.”

It’s been over a month since we’ve done our Sunday Night Book Club. We’ve both been busy settling into our new universities, but otherwise, we’ve been religious about video-chatting every week since I left Andarusia.

“I love it here already,” she gushes. “The campus is so pretty, but the classes are so hard, so I haven’t had much time to make friends. I wish you were here.”

“Well, not all of us are smart enough to get accepted into Georgetown for pre-med.” I stick my tongue out at her. “But I’m not complaining. Check this out.” I flip the phone’s camera away from me and scan my closet.

Prisha gasps. “Oh, wow! Your bedroom is gorgeous, but where’s your bed?”

“This is just my walk-in closet.” The hem of my T-shirt dress falls to my knees when I stand, and I slide my feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers and walk to the door. “That’s the bedroom.”

“No way! Gosh, my whole dorm room is smaller than your closet. You’re so lucky.”

I flip the phone back to the front camera and retreat into the closet again, leaning against the countertop in the middle with my back to the door. “To be fair, I’d be happy with just the closet. It’s my favorite room in the house. I even read in here.”

“I would, too,” Prisha says. “It’s perfect. Way better than the supply closet at the President’s Academy.”

We’ve come a long way since the days of eating our lunch on bundles of toilet paper while hiding from the Aristocrats.

Grinning, I hold up my Kindle to the phone and show her the cover of our latest read.

Prisha and I managed to get added to the street team of one of our favorite romance authors to receive advanced copies of her books.

The latest ARC just came out last week, and this is our first chance to talk about it.

“Have you finished it?” I ask. “The scene where he bent her over and took her on the kitchen counter was absolute perfection.” I bring my fingers to my mouth and blow a chef’s kiss to the camera.

“And when he slapped the handcuffs around her wrists? I got chills.” Prisha visibly shudders. “But I’ll be honest, I still have five chapters left, so don’t spoil the ending.”

“Still?” I balk. “How did you resist binge-reading it in one night? I couldn’t put it down.”

Prisha pouts her lip. “I know, but I feel like I’ve been spending every waking minute with my nose in a textbook. Trust me, I’d much rather be reading spicy romance novels. They’re way more interesting than organic chemistry.”

“But you like chemistry.”

“Not as much as I like romance.” She rests her chin in her hands and gives me a dreamy smile. “Speaking of romance, how’s Prince Alek?”

“He’s good.” Although, the bruises on his face look even worse today than they did last night.

“What’s wrong?” Prisha’s smile falters. “Trouble in paradise?”

I shake my head. “No, no. We’re great. He’s just... sick, and with classes starting tomorrow, it’s not great timing.”

“Oh no, that’s awful. Is it a cold? I wouldn’t be surprised after going from Saint-Tropez to Zurich. That weather change is rough on the system. I’ll send you a recipe for kadha chai that my nanny used to make for me during cold and flu season. You should take some too so you don’t get sick.”

Guilt roils my gut. I hate lying to Prisha, but if I tell her Alek was beaten up in a secret hazing ritual, it’ll make her worry even more. I’m sure she’d have questions, and I wouldn’t know how to answer them since Alek won’t tell me anything. He’s been locked in his office all day.

“Thanks.” I give her a tight smile. “I’m sure it’ll help a lot.”

“Of course. Anyway, back to the book. Which chapter was that scene in again? I want to reread it.”

“I thought I highlighted it.” I tap my screen and start scrolling through the grid view of the pages. “But I don’t see it— Ooh, wait, I found it. Chapter nineteen.”

Prisha props the camera on something to free her hands and picks up her Kindle. “Yeah, this was my favorite sex scene so far.”

I quirk my eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t realize you had a bondage kink, Prisha.”