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Chapter 23
Willow
Alek pulls the car to the front entrance of the estate. A guard approaches my door to open it, but before he can offer me his hand, Alek steps in.
“Possessive, much?” I mutter, putting my palm in his.
He grins but says nothing as he leads me inside.
In the foyer, we pass by the grand staircase leading up to the second-story balcony. Upstairs, a blonde girl stops, staring over the balustrade with curious, blue eyes. Her phone is attached to her hand.
Anastasia, Alek’s sister.
“Alek?” she calls out, her voice echoing off the marble floors. She says something to him in Russian.
He halts his steps, and I nearly run into him from behind.
“You remember Willow, the daughter of Ambassador Baker,” he says in English. “You met her at the Ambassadors’ Dinner. She goes to the academy with me.”
Anastasia turns her gaze onto my face, but her lips are pursed in concentration. “You never bring girls here.”
Her statement makes my heart soar much more than it should. I’m special.
“I’m tutoring her.”
His sister lets out a dainty giggle and politely covers her mouth with a well-manicured hand. “Tutoring? Did Otets cut off your allowance? I can lend you some money if you’re desperate.”
“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” he asks, although there isn’t much malice behind it. In fact, their banter is comfortable, like they enjoy teasing each other.
Aleksandr Kurochkin has a soft spot for his little sister, and watching them interact is an absolute delight.
Anastasia switches back to Russian, saying a few words before waving him off. She glances at me once more over the balcony, this time with a small smile on her face.
I might be misinterpreting things, but I swear there’s a hint of approval on her pretty, young face.
She turns and disappears down the hall, her gaze glued to her phone.
“Come, malishka. Let’s go.”
I continue to follow Alek through the estate, going through unfamiliar hallways and down a flight of stairs. We pass by a couple of staff members here and there, but on our way, Alek pops his head into the kitchen and says a few words in Russian.
He leads me down a corridor that opens up onto the garden, where Alek and I shared a cigarette during the Ambassador’s Dinner.
We come to a stop next to a white, marble table beneath a striped umbrella, which reminds me of an intimate café or French bistro. Alek sets his bookbag down and rifles through it. I do the same and start taking out my textbooks, but he stops me.
“You won’t be needing those.”
“I won’t be needing my textbooks to study?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Not yet. I’m giving you a comprehensive practice test first.”
“Why?”
“To gauge where you’re at and what areas we need to work on.”
“Oh. That sounds… smart, actually.”
“Are you surprised?” he asks.
