Page 9 of Forced Marriage Vows

“No,” I say adamantly, shaking my head. “Not happening. I know you’re Supergirl or some shit, but I need an entire day to myself to relax and unwind. So no to shopping.”

“We’re headed back to Chicago tomorrow,” she reminds me. “We should at least see a little bit of the city before we leave. Ant will drive us to where we need to go.”

“I will?” my brother asks in surprise.

“Yep. I already planned a day’s worth of activities for us,” Leah says excitedly, clapping her hands. “It’ll be fun. I even included some time at the spa so you can destress. God knows you need it, Stassy.”

My brother and I share a look both of us coming to an unspoken agreement that there’s no use fighting this. I sigh softly, running my hands through my hair, mentally preparing myself for the long day ahead.

“Who are you texting?” I ask my brother.

He’s been distracted the last couple of minutes. We’re standing in a Chanel store, waiting for Leah to be done making her purchase. Anthony’s holding about five bags in one hand while typing with the other one. He’s been patient the entire day, and despite how opposed I was to coming out, it’s actually been fun. It’s nice, spending the day with two of the people I care about the most in the world.

“Let me guess, girlfriend number six?” I say before he can reply.

He rolls his eyes “What do you think of me, little sister?”

“That you’re menace to society,” I reply without missing a beat.

“I was actually texting Mikhail,” he informs me. “He has to leave the city, some urgent business back in Chicago. Hey, how about you and Leah go with him? He has his own private plane.”

“He does? Just how rich is the guy?”

“Very. Now should I tell him you’ll be accompanying him or not?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Flying’s hard enough as it is. I’d rather not have to do it in close quarters with Morozova.”

Anthony smiles. “What is your beef with him? He’s a good guy.”

I give him a look that spells bullshit.

“Occasionally,” he amends. “But seriously, you’re my little sister. He bears you no ill will.”

“Yeah, until I wake up from my Xanax-induced nap on the flight to find a gun pointed at my head,” I retort.

My brother’s expression grows cloudy. “He’s not a monster. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“August fifteen, five years ago. I watched him kill a defenseless man. He didn’t even blink, Anthony.”

“Because the man probably deserved it.”

“You don’t know that, though. You’ve never asked him about it.”

“I haven’t because any dealings Mikhail has with the Bratva are none of my business,” he says, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “And try not to go about throwing stones from glass houses, Ana.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act like you’ve forgotten who your father is.”

“Papa’s the Pakhan. He’s not killing anyone. He has people to do that for him.”

“And that makes it okay?” Anthony scoffs.

“No, but at least he’s not?—”

“Enough,” my brother cuts in. “I’m not talking about this with you anymore. If you don’t want to go with Mikhail, you don’t have to.”

His gaze drops to his phone, effectively ending the conversation. I look away with a huff, crossing my arms over my chest. He always shuts down like this when we talk about our father. It never fails to piss me off.

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