Heart of My Monster (Monster Trilogy, #3)(2)

My brother shakes his head more in resignation than anger. “You’re never going to grow up, are you?”

I throw my hands in the air. “What’s so fun about growing up anyway? Besides, you’re grown up enough for the both of us.”

His lips twitch in a smile as he grabs me by the nape and starts dragging me back to the house. “It’s time for dinner.”

“No!” I try to wiggle out of his hold to no avail. “It’s still too early.”

“Stop acting like a baby.”

“But I don’t want to. Leave me alone, Tosha.”

He only tightens his grip and basically pushes me inside the house and deposits me like I’m a sack of potatoes.

A joyful atmosphere explodes all at once. Christmas vibes spill in front of us like a royal feast. A few trees decorate the circular entrance hall, and a huge one stands in the middle, nearly reaching the chandelier hanging from the ceiling at the end of the second floor.

It sparkles and glitters with dozens of golden ornaments and blinking lights. It’s even surrounded by a ton of snow and there’s a real snowman beside it that the twins and I insisted on bringing in.

Papa ordered for it to be preserved with some special freezing method since the house is warm.

Excitement, chatter, and endless footsteps echo around the house. The staff is busy carrying dishes, preparing the dining table, and making sure everything is as impeccable as Babushka instructed.

Yes, Papa and my uncles take care of business, but she’s the absolute monarch of this house. My uncles’ wives call her the queen dowager behind her back, but Mama never joins in the slandering my aunts enjoy.

She’s just too nice and wouldn’t participate in anything that hurts others—including my impossibly strict Babushka, who hardly likes anyone or anything.

Anton is the exception, probably because he’s cut from the same authoritarian cloth as she is. He’s never lived his life, never had any form of fun, and he’s always concentrated on either his studies or whatever he does with Papa for ‘work.’

“Malyshka!”

I wince at Mama’s voice, and my bastard of a brother releases me with a small twitch of his lips.

Mama stands in front of me with a hand on her hip. She’s a tall, absolutely stunning woman with dark hair, a round face, and big hazel eyes that she passed down to me.

Her dress for the night is a simple dark green one that stops above her knees, but it hugs her figure in all the right places and makes her look no different than a model. I’ve come to the realization that she might be a vampire, because she hasn’t aged one bit since I was young.

“Hi, Mama.” I play with the belt of my coat.

“Don’t hi me, young lady.” She reaches into her cross-body bag and retrieves a small brush. She always has these little kits and emergency stuff that can be used for everything. “You look like a rat who’s out of the sewer. Didn’t I tell you to be presentable, at least for today?”

“That’s what I said,” Anton adds needlessly. “Apparently, your daughter wants to act like she’s ten forever.”

I glare up at him, and he merely watches me with that stupid blank expression of his. I swear to God, he’s growing up to be a second Babushka—minus the cane.

Maybe one day, he’ll inherit our grandmother’s cane and chase me out of the house with it.

Mama undoes the buttons of my coat and removes it in swift, firm movements. “I guess I should be glad that you didn’t smudge or tear your dress yet. I don’t even know what to do with you anymore, Malyshka.”

She gives the light pink lace a little fluff and adjusts the ribbon at my waist, then brushes my hair.

“I’m okay, Mama. Look.” I pull at my dress. “It’s all good.”

“Your shoes are ruined!” She rushes to the cabinet underneath the stairs and comes back with a second pair that looks exactly like what I’m wearing. Only Mama would buy duplicates of things because she knows I’ll destroy them in no time.

She helps me change my shoes while Anton just shakes his head like a bastard. He could’ve left or something, but he’s leaning against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, looking pristine in his suit and judging me six ways to Sunday.

He's also enjoying watching me being scolded until eternity by our mother.

All I get to do is lower my head and take it with a pout. If I attempt to defend myself, she’ll really give me an earful. Not that I have too many arguments that could work in my favor.

The office door opens, and Papa steps out with Uncle Albert. My papa, Akim Ivanov, is the most handsome, compassionate, and charismatic man I know. I don’t care that those who work for him think he’s as authoritarian as Babushka. He’s not that way with me or with the rest of the family, and that’s all that matters.

Anton takes after him in almost everything except for the dark hair. I’m the opposite, yet I have Papa’s golden hair.

Upon seeing me, he smiles. “Sasha!”

I release myself from Mama’s merciless hold and run into his open arms. He embraces me and kisses the top of my head. “You look so good, my Sashenka.”

“That’s only because I salvaged the situation last minute,” Mama says from behind me with a huff.

“And I prevented a disaster from happening,” my brother supplies.