Page 22 of Love to Defy You (The Dark Love #2)

I didn’t get to claim her virginity for myself, and I envy the idiot who was inside her first—although I’d be willing to bet he didn’t make her come. I wasn’t her first, but I’ll certainly be her last, and that’s what matters.

When we arrive in St. Moritz, the cloudless sky is bright blue against the white horizon of mountain peaks, and the sun reflects off the snow. The road winding up the steep incline toward the chalet is clear, but snow is plowed high on either side into walls of ice.

I follow one last bend before the chalet comes into view. The four-story luxury lodge is built on the mountainside with rich wood framing and panoramic windows overlooking the valley. When I pull into the five-car garage, I kill the music and park.

Mikhail awakens with a grunt. “Are we there yet?”

I turn off the engine. “What does it look like?”

Willow’s dark eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she stirs.

“Come on, malishka ,“ I say. “I’ll give you the tour.”

The three of us leave our bags in the car, and I lead the way into the house.

I called ahead to make sure the house was staffed—only with our longest-serving and most-trusted staff members—and prepared for Christmas, and when we walk into the living room, the fourteen-foot tree stands tall in front of the wide windows overlooking the mountain peaks beyond.

Green curtains frame the tree in draping velvet.

Willow gasps. “Holy shit, this is nice.”

I wrap my arm around her waist. “Good. I want to spend every Christmas here. Next year, we’ll invite your father and Galina, but this year, I want you all to myself.” I pull her closer and nuzzle my nose against her ear. “We have so many rooms to christen—“

“Alek!”

The feminine sound of my name startles me, and my adrenaline spikes as I whirl around to confront the threat.

But instead of an assassin sent by the Order to eliminate me, I find Anastasia at the top of the staircase.

Her long, blonde hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail, which sways like a pendulum with each step as she descends the stairs.

Her gait is graceful thanks to years of rigorous ballet training my mother forced her to endure.

She’s wearing a pink fur coat, white pants, and obnoxious furry boots that go all the way up to her knees.

Ana always knows how to make an entrance.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. “ Mat’ said she was keeping you in Paris for the holidays.”

She reaches the bottom floor and approaches me, batting her eyelashes and pushing out her bottom lip. “ Starshiy brat , ya skuchal po tebe —“

“Speak English.” I fold my arms and stare down at her over my nose. “Willow is here.”

She turns to Willow and kisses both cheeks. “Forgive me. It means, ‘Big brother, I’ve missed you.’ How are you, Willow?”

“I’m great,” she answers. “God, how long has it been since we saw you in Paris? How old are you now?”

“It’s been at least a year.” Ana flips her ponytail off her shoulder with a delicate flick of the wrist. “I’ll be seventeen in February.”

Mikhail steps forward to kiss Anastasia on the cheek. “Hi, Ana, wow. You look so...” He gestures up and down at her but doesn’t finish his thought.

Yeah, I’m at a loss for words, too. Her outfit is utterly ridiculous.

Ana lets out a dainty laugh and turns to me. “Aren’t you going to greet me properly, brother?”

When I sigh, my shoulders relax. “Come here.” I throw my arm around her neck and mess up her hair.

She slaps me away. “Ugh, never mind. Willow, how do you stand him? He’s impossible.” Ana smooths her hair back into place.

“You want me to be nice?” I arch a stern eyebrow at my little sister and fold my arms. “Then tell me what you’re doing here.”

Ana huffs. “ Mat’ is impossible. I hate it there with her.”

I don’t blame her. Our mother puts Ana through the most rigorous finishing schools for young ladies, which is a fancy way of saying they’re grooming girls to become refined and elegant trophy wives. Pretty accessories on the arms of wealthy men but not much else.

“Hold on.” I hold up a hand. “Does she even know you’re here?”

Ana folds her arms and pops her hip with a scoff. Typical teenager.

“Ana,” I warn.

“Fine.” Her porcelain cheeks grow a pale shade of pink. “I snuck out.”

Willow blinks. “When I snuck out of the house, I had a dumb jock pick me up in his car and take me to the other side of the railroad tracks. Not to another whole-ass country.”

Ana looks smug. “Oh, it’s easy. I took the train. I just got in this morning and ate lunch in town. There’s this adorable little restaurant I have to take you to, Willow.”

“The train ride alone is eight hours.” Mikhail shrugs off his coat. “You shouldn’t be so reckless. It’s dangerous to travel alone at your age.”

Her bright, blue eyes narrow. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Mikhail doesn’t take anything seriously, but when it comes to Ana, he treats her like a younger sister.

We all grew up together, and I certainly needed his help wrangling the spirited little girl when our parents couldn’t be bothered to raise us.

None of her governesses lasted more than six months because Ana was such a brat.

She was only sweet with Mikhail and me, but she’s always had an easier time wrapping Mick around her little finger. I lived with her, so I see right through her tricks.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, but I don’t have any missed calls from my mother. Her underage daughter is missing, and she hasn’t even bothered to call me.

Ana’s eyes grow wide. “You’re not going to tell her, are you? Please, don’t. You have no idea what she’s making me do.”

I sigh and slide my phone back into my coat. “I won’t say anything unless she calls me and asks.”

Ana flings her arms around me. “Thank you.”

Mikhail plops down onto one of the beige sofas angled around the fireplace. “And what is she making you do?”

She releases me and sits next to him. “ Mat’ is making me marry this horrible old man from Dubai when I turn eighteen.”

“What?” I take the seat across from her, and Willow sits by my side.

Mikhail swallows. “How old?”

“In his fifties.” Ana throws herself against the sofa cushions. “It’s disgusting.”

My parents had a plan for Anastasia’s life from the moment she was born, and that plan was simple: marry her off to a Russian oligarch once she was old enough.

They claimed it was her duty to help the family make strategic alliances for the good of Andarusia, but in reality, they were selling their daughter to the highest bidder.

But now that we’ve fallen out of favor with Russian high society, my mother has had to cast a wider net. I’d be willing to gamble this chalet on the fact that her new betrothed is an oil tycoon and/or an Arab prince.

I share a glance with Mikhail, and a dark look crosses his face.

I steeple my hands in front of me. If I mention increasing her allowance, perhaps my mother will be willing to negotiate. “I’ll talk to her. We’ll figure something out.”

Ana blows out a breath. “Thank you. But I don’t want to talk about that anymore.” She claps her hands together. “I know! We should go skiing this afternoon. Take our minds off it.”

Willow grows tense beside me. “I don’t really ski.”

“What do you mean?” Ana asks with genuine bewilderment. “Everybody skis.”

Willow shrugs. “I never learned how.”

“You never learned how to ski?” Ana clutches her chest as though this is a personal affront. “Then we must remedy that immediately. Go change into your ski clothes and we’ll go right now.”

“Ana,” I scold, “we’ve had a long drive. Let us settle in first. We’ll go skiing another day.”

She folds her arms and huffs. “Fine.”

Babysitting my princess of a little sister was not on my vacation agenda. I was hoping to relax for a few days before the other guests arrived.

“Ana, why don’t you give Willow a tour of the chalet?” I suggest.

Her mood shifts instantly, and she rises off the sofa. “Oh, yes, let’s.” She grabs Willow’s hand and whisks her down one of the halls.

Mikhail waits until they’re out of earshot. “Will you be able to intervene?”

“I think so.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “My mother is a piece of work.”

He glances over his shoulder and down the hallway where the girls just disappeared. “She’s too young to get married.”

“Tell me about it.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “Speaking of the marriage market, do you want to tell me about Madame Collette’s?”

He whips his head back around with a deer-in-headlights look. “It’s just a myth.”

“Oh really? Then why are you listed as the CEO?”

“W-what?” he sputters. “That’s... that’s ridiculous.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar,” I say. “You should work on your poker face if you’re planning to run the mafia one day.”

Mikhail’s shoulders slump along with his face. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

“Did you look into me?”

I pin him with a pointed look. “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t keep secrets from me.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the cushions.

“I’m only the CEO in name. My father knows I don’t have time for that shit while I’m in school.

But when I graduate, he expects me to step into the role full time.

Get my feet wet with the shadier aspects of the family business before taking over. ”

“Makes sense.” I throw my arm over the back of the couch. “I didn’t know the Russian Bratva had internships.”

“Shut up.” Mikhail plucks a decorative pillow off the sofa and throws it at me. “Once I figure out how, I’m going to clean things up. I’m not going to be like my father.”

I understand that sentiment more than anyone. It might be the most honest thing he’s said to me all semester.

“I believe you,” I say. And I mean it.