Page 4 of Love to Defy You
“Dead serious.”
A waitress approaches the table to take our lunch order, and she blushes when Mikhail gives her a dashing smile. The man flirts with any pretty thing that crosses his path.
When she walks away, Mikhail tracks the movement of her hips. “How long are you in town for?” he asks without taking his eyes off her ass.
“If I’m lucky, I’ll be gone before dinner. After this meeting with Fyodor, I’m getting out of this hellhole and flying back to Saint-Tropez. No offense.”
“None taken. I’m counting down the days until summer break is over.” Mikhail turns his attention back to our conversation. “Hey, can I tag along to your meeting?”
I tap my cigarette above the ashtray. “Are you using me to avoid your father?”
“Obviously.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask. The Aslanovs run one of the most powerful crime syndicates in Russia, so the less I know, the better.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I could use a wingman with Fyodor.”
“He’s still icing you out?”
I shrug. “He’s cordial, although my invitation to his spring gala must have gotten lost in the mail.” I scoff. “I haven’t heard from Ilya or Oleg, either, which is fine by me.”
The five of us used to be close. In fact, I considered them my inner circle, and they proved their loyalty to me and my father time and time again. Hell, they even kidnapped the asshole who posted Willow’s revenge video and brought him to me.
But when the Kurochkins fell from grace, my friendship didn’t benefit them any longer. Mikhail is the only one who hasn’t turned his back on me. Fyodor and I speak on occasion, but if I weren’t a top client of his father’s bank, I doubt he’d keep in touch.
The waitress reappears with two cups of coffee, though her hands are shaking so badly, the teacups chatter on the saucers. She sets them down on our table.
Mikhail reaches out and runs his finger along her arm. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re doing great.”
If she was blushing before, she’s as red as borscht now.
“T-thank you, sir.” She gives him a shy smile before scurrying off.
I cluck my tongue. “You’re too lavish with your praise.”
“The ladies love it, Kurochkin. Trust me.” He gives me a stupid grin. “Anyway, what’s this meeting about?”
I wave my hand. “Oh, my mother is on my ass about getting our finances in order. My father named me as his successor in his will, so I’m in charge of her allowance. She believes I’ll leave her destitute, so she’s eager to find a wealthy man to leech from and marry Ana off to.”
Mikhail shifts in his seat. “Ana isn’t engaged anymore?”
I watch the smoke curl from the end of my cigarette. “Apparently not.”
With the tip of his finger, he traces the swirling pattern etched into the edge of the café table. “How is she doing? Anastasia?”
“She and my mother are living in our apartment in Paris. Ana’s attending finishing school there.”
He nods absently. “I see.”
We spend the remainder of lunch catching up, and once we pay our bill, we head to the bank on foot to make my afternoon appointment. The bank itself is located a block away from the Red Square in a grandiose historical building. Inside, patrons are milling about, surrounded by rich, wooden furnishings and expensive paintings, but a courteous hush settles over the lobby. The atmosphere is more that of a library than a bank.
A petite blonde in a pencil skirt strides up to us, her heels clicking on the marble floors. “Good afternoon, Mr. Kurochkin. Mr. Vasiliev is just wrapping up a meeting. Can I get you any coffee or tea while you wait?”
“I’m fine.”
Mikhail roves his gaze down to her legs. “I’ll take a coffee, if you don’t mind.”
Unsurprisingly, the woman blushes and gestures to a waiting area with plush sofas. “Please wait here. I’ll be right back.”
