Page 24 of Love to Defy You (The Dark Love #2)

Once the three of us finish getting ready, we head downstairs to the dining room for the welcome dinner Alek planned for the guests.

A long, rectangular table made of chestnut sits in the middle beneath an elaborate, golden chandelier.

High-back dining chairs upholstered in green sit around the table against a stunning backdrop of floor-to-ceiling windows.

The sun has set behind the mountains, and snowfall gently drifts outside while a well-dressed pianist plays a soft tune on the grand piano in the corner.

“Goodness, Aleksandr has really outdone himself, hasn’t he?

” Josie walks the length of the table to inspect the tall candlesticks nestled between pine garlands and white roses.

She picks up a crystal water goblet, and when the light hits it, it creates a rainbow prism in the intricate etching of the glass.

“Only the finest for my friends,” Alek says behind me.

I whip around to find him leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded. He’s wearing a black suit that fits snug against his torso, along with a burgundy tie.

No one can wear a suit like Aleksandr Kurochkin can.

I nod at his tie. “Hey, we match.”

He smirks. “I know.” Alek pushes off the doorframe and approaches to wrap his arm around my waist. “Come, let’s take our seats.”

Place cards sit at each setting with our names scrawled in delicate calligraphy. Alek sits at the head of the table in a wingback chair that’s larger than everyone else’s—the king’s throne. I’m assigned to the seat on his right, and Prisha is on my other side.

I don’t miss how Enzo’s place card is at the far end of the table, cast away in Siberia.

Alek leans in. “A seating chart can either create alliances between nations or start wars. One of the only valuable lessons my mother taught me.”

Apparently, Alek chose war tonight.

The rest of the group filters in one by one. Henri is the first to arrive after us, and he greets everyone with a quick nod before taking his seat beside Prisha.

“Henri brought us some chocolate truffles to pair with dessert,” Alek says. “Prisha, did you know Henri here is the heir to a Belgian chocolate empire?”

“Oh, right.” Prisha’s eyes grow wide behind her thick glasses. “Willow mentioned that.”

A deep flush blooms from Henri’s collar as he loosens his tie. “Well, a Rooman never shows up to a party without chocolate. At least, that’s what my father says.”

Henri and Prisha strike up a conversation, and I turn to Alek to mouth a silent thank-you. He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his.

Mikhail and Anastasia filter in next, with Ana taking the seat across from me on Alek’s left.

Mikhail sits between Ana and Josie, but his girlfriend barely greets him.

Maybe she’s still mad that Mikhail didn’t invite her?

The tension between those two might be just as thick as Alek’s feud with Enzo.

Enzo and Birgitta are the last to arrive. Birgitta clutches his arm with a broad smile. As they stride in, Enzo’s penetrating gaze meets mine, but I avert my eyes and tighten my hold on Alek’s hand.

These two are about to clash. I can feel it. Now isn’t the time to play mind games with Alek by making him jealous. I need to signal my allegiance so there isn’t any misunderstanding.

They take the final two spots across from each other on the end, with Birgitta seated beside Henri and Enzo by Josie.

“It looks like we’re all here.” Alek waves over a staff member. “Who wants wine?”

“Me.” I’m the first to raise my wineglass.

As a butler pours the wine, the other staff bring out small, individual charcuterie platters for the first course.

“Uh, Alek?” I whisper.

“Yes, malishka? ”

“How many courses will this meal be?”

“Six.”

“Fuck.” This is going to be a long night. I down my first glass of red and call for another.

By the time the second course arrives—a deep red borscht soup—three distinct conversations have popped up at the table. Mikhail and Anastasia, Josie with Enzo and Birgitta, and Henri and Prisha.

But Alek is enjoying his wine with a ghost of a smile on his face, listening in on Mikhail’s strange combination of Russian and English. Ringlish? Runglish? Who the hell knows, but either way, I can’t follow the conversation.

What is Alek’s plan? Lull everyone into a stupor with food and drink before dropping a bomb? He said he would reveal the plan tomorrow on New Year’s Eve, but I can’t rid myself of the uneasy feeling growing in my gut, and it isn’t from the borscht.

I keep my head down and listen in on the conversations around me. Prisha and Henri are talking about books, but not the smutty ones. Boring.

Josie says something that makes Birgitta throw her head back in laughter, and when I glance their way over the rim of my glass, Enzo’s dark eyes meet mine. A shudder makes its way from my neck to my tailbone, and I take another long sip of wine.

Alek raises a single eyebrow. “Pace yourself, malishka . You’ve barely touched your food.”

“I’m just taking the edge off.” I drain my glass.

“Just relax.” He places his hand on my knee under the table. “You’re wound up too tight.” He slips his fingers under the hem of my skirt and slides them up my inner thigh.

Is it the wine or his touch making me heady?

Whatever the reason, I’m finding it difficult to resist him, especially after he almost fucked me on the sofa earlier.

I was finally about to break my celibacy streak, and when Prisha interrupted us, it left me aroused and unsatisfied for the rest of the day.

I lick my lips and take another sip of wine as Alek feathers his finger along my bare slit. Yep, I opted to go commando tonight, and right now, I’m not sure if I regret it or not.

He lets out a soft hum I pray no one can hear.

Without looking, I feel Enzo’s eyes on me, as if they’re boring through the wooden table to watch Alek touch me. I’m sure Alek knows we have an audience, which means he’s doing this to make it clear to Enzo who I belong to.

But he’s also making something clear to me—Alek will make me come at his leisure, and even if I try to resist, he’ll wear me down eventually. He enjoys the long game, the thrill of the chase, and tonight, Alek will emerge the winner in a pissing match I started with him.

Losing has never felt so good.

But he doesn’t venture any further than his gentle caress. When the second course is cleared and the third course arrives, Alek removes his hand, leaving my pussy lips swollen with need.

The server sets down a plate of fried fish in front of me with pomegranate seeds and garnish. I take a bite, and it’s delicious.

“Are you enjoying our Russo-Andarusian cuisine, Messina?” Alek asks.

The table grows quiet. Everyone turns their head toward Enzo for his response.

He chuckles. “At the risk of sounding rude, I must admit I find it rather bland. A result of my upbringing, I’m afraid. I prefer the more vibrant flavors of my native Sicilian cuisine.”

“Yes, I can understand that,” Alek concedes.

“Sicilian cuisine was shaped by the different cultures that conquered the island over the centuries. I’d argue that Sicilian flavors were stolen from Arab, Greek, and Spanish cuisine, along with all the other invaders, though there are too many to count.

No real identity of its own, unlike Russian cuisine. ”

Enzo pauses with his wineglass at his mouth. “That’s an interesting take. But what can I say? I’m loyal to my mother’s cooking.”

As for the rest of us onlookers, our heads whip back and forth as though we’re watching a Ping-Pong ball volley across the table between opponents.

“Perhaps you’ll find the next course more to your liking.” Alek swirls his wine by the stem of the glass. “Your people like pasta, yes?”

“Of course,” Enzo says. “When done right.”

Their conversation lulls. Silence fills the room, only punctuated by the tinkling piano music in the background and the light clinking of plates floating in from the kitchen.

Mikhail clears his throat. “I’m looking forward to the Kurochkins’ famous medovik . I look forward to it every year.”

“Honey cake,” Alek explains for the rest of the table. “It’s quite delicious, isn’t it, Ana?”

She startles at her name. “Oh, ah, yes. Quite.”

“Shall I send some home with you to Mat’ ?“ Alek asks. “I’d relish ruining her figure.”

Ana lets out a nervous laugh that quickly dies. She might not know the details of Alek and Enzo’s feud, but the tension is so palpable that it’s impossible to be ignorant of it. The air in the room is charged with hostility.

We slowly return to our small clusters of conversation, and I raise my wineglass at the server to ask for a refill.

For the next dish, the staff serve pelmeni , which are small, meat-filled dumplings in a light broth.

The fourth course passes without incident, and for the fifth course, a full suckling pig—head and all—is carried out to the table.

We politely clap when it’s presented to Alek, and one of the servers passes him a butcher knife and a double-pronged metal skewer.

Alek stands up with the carving set in his hands.

“This used to be my father’s responsibility, but now it seems that duty falls on me.

” He shoves the skewer into the pig’s rear end before raising the butcher knife up high.

He brings it down on the pig’s neck and starts to saw, and he doesn’t stop until the head is fully detached.

The whole process is rather grotesque, and I recoil as the head rolls on the platter, its dead, glazed eyes staring at me.

We clap again when he’s done, although Enzo puts his hands together twice before returning them to his lap. Alek sharpens the knife blade on the skewer with agile motions before handing them back to the server. The staff carries the pig back to the kitchen to continue the full carving.

Alek takes his seat and settles back in the chair. “Speaking of fathers, Enzo, tell me about yours.”

I nearly spit out my wine, but I end up choking on it instead and start coughing. Prisha pats my back to help me recover.

Enzo gives a tight-lipped smile. “I’m afraid I never knew my father.”

“That’s interesting.” Alek picks up his wineglass and holds it up to inspect it in the light. “Did your mother at least tell you his identity?”

Enzo puts his elbows on the table, folds his hands together, and leans forward. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Or did she sleep with so many men that there was no way of knowing?” Alek asks.

I throw Alek a pointed look, but he pays no attention to me. His focus is fixed on Enzo Messina, who meets his challenging gaze, but neither is close to backing down from the other.

Alek turns to his sister. “Ana, would you and Prisha excuse us? Why don’t you show Prisha the sauna room?”

She crosses her arms. “But I don’t want to miss the suckling pig.”

Prisha glances at me, unsure what to do. I give her a small nod and mouth, Go .

She seizes the opportunity to escape, and her shoulders relax with relief. The atmosphere is so thick we’re all choking on it, and I pray Alek will excuse me along with them.

Prisha wipes her mouth with her napkin before pushing her chair from the table. “The sauna sounds nice after a heavy meal. We’ll sneak some pork on our way back.”

Ana stares at her brother, but after a few long moments, she withers under his stern gaze. “Fine. Let’s go.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and stands up, then follows Prisha out of the room.

Alek turns toward the piano player and excuses him. He stops playing mid-melody and retreats to the kitchen. The only people left in the room are those who know about the Order of Apollo.

“There’s something I can’t seem to figure out.” Alek sets down his wineglass. “How does one get invited into the Order without having a father who was a member?”

“My stepfather is the Prince of Liechtenstein, as you are well aware,” Enzo explains in an even tone. “He himself went through the trials at Weltner decades ago.”

Alek scoffs. “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but the prince never married your mother, isn’t that right? So, he’s not your stepfather. In fact, you aren’t bound to him in any legal way.”

Enzo lets out a disarming laugh. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Kurochkin.

Not all initiates are nepo babies. The Order often invites first-generation candidates who show great promise.

” He takes a sip of his wine and shrugs.

“As for me, I completed the initiation trials and proved myself worthy. We’ll see if you can do the same. ”

“I’m not worried.” Alek reaches into his suit and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

He takes his time in sticking one in his mouth and lighting it, takes a drag, and releases the smoke into the air.

“But it sounds like you wormed your way into our elite circle of society the same way your mother did. Except instead of whoring out your body, you whore out your dignity to curry favor with the elite.”

“Alek.” Mikhail shakes his head in warning.

Josie, Birgitta, Henri, and I keep our heads down and our hands folded in our laps. None of us want to witness the heated exchange we’ve found ourselves in the middle of.

“I’m just trying to understand.” Smoke curls around Alek’s face as he stares across the table at Enzo.

“You’re not inheriting any money or assets from the prince upon his death, and I doubt his wife will continue to pay your mother a stipend.

You’ll be destitute. Why would the Order want someone like you? ”

“The same could be said about you.” Enzo’s mouth ticks into a leering grin. “Now that you aren’t the heir apparent to the Andarusian presidency, you’ve been cast out from Russian high society. The Kurochkin name doesn’t hold any power or social standing anymore.”

Alek spreads his arms wide, gesturing toward the walls of his grand chalet, and grins. “As you can see, I’m doing just fine.”

Enzo lets out a soft chuckle. “Appearances can be deceiving. But in either case, the Order has chosen you, just as it has chosen me. Neither of us can resist the call.”

Alek takes another drag from his cigarette, stretching the lull in conversation to the point where we’re all shifting in our seats.

Unhurried, he blows out the smoke, assessing Enzo from his throne at the head of the table.

At last, he picks up the small bell sitting beside his place card and rings it. A server enters the room.

“We’re ready for the next course,” Alek says. “Let’s not keep our guests waiting any longer.”

Was that Alek’s big plan? Confront Enzo Messina at dinner and grill him about his past? It’s so anticlimactic.

But when I turn to Alek, he’s staring at Enzo with a devious smirk that hints at one more trick in his deck.