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Arranged To The Bravta King 102
Maria"I'm sorry," I whisper to end the silence.Mikhail pulls back, but his hands stay on me, gently cradling my face. "Why are you apologizing, Maria?"I hesitate because there are too many things to list, and I'm afraid that the look in his eyes will turn to ice if I tell him everything I've done to hurt him. But I didn't mean to do those things. I grimace in pain as I try to sit up again. This could've easily been him and not me. It could have been so much worse.Mikhail holds me until I stop trying to move. "Maria, don't. You have to heal for the baby."I nod. "I should've told you. I should tell you the truth."Mikhail sits down in the chair beside my bed. He seems heavy with responsibility as he looks at the photos again before placing them on the bed."You were scared," he says. "It's like you said. You want to love me, but you don't know if I want to love you. But things will be different now, Maria, especially after we marry.""Is that still happening?" I whisper.His gaze t
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MikhailA WEEK LATERI know what Maria thought the day I hurried away from her bedside and out the door. She thought I was on the hunt for Zakhar. Not that day, but I continue to hunt him. In the middle of the night, when she's asleep, I leave our bed and go out in the night, searching for him.She may be able to forgive her father, but I will never.He almost took her away from me. He nearly took the future away from me.My hate for him has morphed into something that cannot be reasoned with. How cruel it is that I can't control the intensity of my feelings for either Maria or her father.I turn on my heels to find Maria and Nina Orlov, the wedding planner, staring at me wide-eyed. I realize then I've been pacing the gallery floor. We agreed to meet Nina at the Tatiana Gallery uptown, and she's glad to have a chance to prove she still has value after the wedding shower fiasco.Nina smiles, tugging out the chair between her and Maria at the circular table. "Your fiancée has excellent
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MariaI wander freely through the massive mansion, picturing a future life here. It's already late September, and I've been gone for more than three months. Thoughts of going home no longer haunt me, and the bitterness I felt toward Mikhail for ruining my big plans in the Big Apple has vanished.But the anxiety has not completely gone away.I slip my phone out of the pocket of my denim skirt and look at the blank screen, regretting the horrible mistake I made. My fingertip runs over the smooth surface, and the lock screen lights up.Should I try to reach out to Zakhar? Why isn't he reaching out to me?Doesn't he care that he shot me?Does he even know?I scoff out loud and shove the phone back into my pocket. Why make excuses for Zakhar's violent behavior? I'm not defending a traitor. Mikhail repeatedly told me about the man's true nature. And now, I believe him.Zakhar proved to me that he is a man so twisted by hate that he would hurt me.His own flesh and blood.The mansion is a la
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MariaMikhail inspects me, checking if I'm hurt as if I'm made of porcelain—a delicate figurine that he can shatter into pieces without effort."I'm sorry." He pulls me into his arms and hugs me."What's wrong?" My voice catches. "Tell me."He struggles with the thoughts, but I won't let him walk away from this until we talk."I don't want to think about that night," he finally says. "Not here."Mikhail descends the staircase quickly, refusing to let me see how deeply he's hurting. I watch him turn the landing and disappear out of view. I'm not sure of what night he's referring to. The night his mother jumped or the night I fell.Does it matter?I hurry down the stairs, bracing myself against the walls, and race to catch up with Mikhail before I lose track of where he's going. His footsteps echo loudly in the hallway, and I find him in another part of the mansion.The smell of fresh paint is strong as I near the doorway where he stands. Workers are painting the dull white walls a chee
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MariaA giggle slips from my lips, and he pauses to look at me. My face heats up, ashamed of my silly and uncool reaction, but Mikhail smiles as he lowers me onto the bed. Stretching out, my body relaxes as I accept the good fortune I deserve. Every bit of it. For years, I was a good girl, and he is my reward."I like that smile." Mikhail unbuttons his shirt, exposing his strong chest. His clothes drop to the floor in a pile at his feet as he watches me, showing off the muscular body he's proud of. "It's good for more than just protecting you, Maria." Naked and hard, he climbs over me on his hands and knees, his body hovering over mine.Giggling, I know I'll never be as confident and cool as Mikhail, and in a second, I realize that he doesn't care. I'm different from what surrounds him daily—ruthless men with guns hidden underneath designer jackets. Being together lets Mikhail lower his guard now that he trusts me."And what is that devilish smile for?" He flexes his muscles, and I gi
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Mikhail"Going out with Larissa?" I ask Maria as she scampers out of our bed and straight into the bathroom. The shower starts before she answers. Lying in our bed, I listen to the water ricochet off the tiles, giving her an excuse not to talk to me."Yes, baby shopping and lunch. You know how she likes to shop."I hoist myself out of bed and find my wallet. "Make sure you take my card. My treat. I'm sure Larissa will pick out a dress for herself."A quick thank you, and then the door shuts firmly. I wait a second, and the lock clicks.Maria has been distant since we returned to the penthouse. She doesn't spend much time in our bedroom, finding reasons to either hang out in her old bedroom or spend time with Dominika.I searched the penthouse for twenty minutes the other day, trying not to lose my cool, when I finally found her in the kitchen. The staff that once showed her polite indifference now dote on her. She was seated beside Anton while Pavel told some over-the-top story about
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MariaI can't stop staring at the lit-up facade of the Met wrapped in silky, flowing banners of blue, white, and red from the rooftop to the ground. It looks like a massive gift all wrapped up for me.I step out of the sleek black limo, my hand wrapped around Mikhail's strong arm. Dominika approved of my black and lace dress for the occasion, which complements Mikhail's smart tux.Also along for the ride is Zhanna Nikolaeva, whom Mikhail helps out of the limo as he guides both of us onto the red carpet. The flashing lights from the cameras momentarily blind me. But my gaze is reserved for the glamor so far apart from the old life that I knew."Welcome to the party." Zhanna gestures toward the spectacle with her silver and ebony cane.Dressed in a beadwork gown, she has cast off the persona of a feeble old woman for tonight. She wishes to be seen at her best, and her elegant presence commands respect among the other Bratva elite also in attendance."It's amazing," I reply in awe as we
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MikhailThe melodic sounds of violins and cellos weave through the air, and my gaze takes in the priceless works of art adorning the gallery walls.I'm captivated by the intense emotion on the faces of the figures portrayed by Delacroix. Each brushstroke is a testament to the passion and conviction of the period. I can practically hear the cries of revolution as Liberté leads the people through the streets of Paris.But Zhanna's soft words compete with the masterpiece. Her hand is on Maria's thigh; her gentle touch is insistent. As are the words she says—just loud enough for me to hear.Among the illustrious guests, I see several familiar faces—all influential members of the Bratva, their cold gazes continually assessing each other. I nod politely to Anatoli Popov, and he returns the gesture. Tonight, it's pleasure before business.That comes later.Maria approaches me. Her gown accents her beautiful body, and her soft expression tempts me."Zhanna wants a moment with you," she says.
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Arranged To The Bravta King 175
MariaThe scent of blooming lilacs fills the air as I stand on the terrace at the Barinov Estate. Their home is the perfect backdrop for me and Mikhail to exchange our vows. Spring has arrived, and with it, a sense of rebirth. The rose garden is in bloom with lavender and pink roses that scent the misty air as I hurry across the lawn and enter an opulent ballroom.The chandeliers cast circles of light on the polished floor, and the sheer drapes billow over the casement windows. I smile at the murals of angels painted on the ceiling above my head and soak in the joy that being here gives me. The staff starts to hurry in to set the room up for our nuptials, and maybe I should go upstairs to change.Dad stands in the main hall dressed in a tux. The tiredness has left his expression, and he looks younger now that we have no secrets. I hurry over to him and hug him tight. He holds me, but his smile is tinged with sadness. "Maria, I spoke to Mikhail. I'll be announcing my retirement from th
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MikhailTHREE MONTHS LATER"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask Maria. Though it had nothing to do with me, I feel responsible. It was my Bratva that murdered Maria's mother. Men that my father trusted."Yes," she replies, staring straight ahead. "I have to have closure."We've traveled to the area where Aria was killed behind a safe house. Zakhar leads the way, searching for the spot. The tall maple trees surround the isolated house with boarded-up windows. Behind it, a faint path winds its way deeper into the woods, and overgrown bushes make it a challenge not to get lost. Eventually, the path leads to a small clearing containing a rotting tree stump.There's an eerie silence hanging over the area, as if nature was holding its breath. I take a deep breath in and stare at the tangled branches high over our heads. Maria stands beside me, her hand trembling in mine."We separated here." Zakhar stops beside the unassuming tree stump. It doesn't look like it should be anyone's final
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MariaThe delivery room is a battleground, and I'm the one fighting for a life. Sweat beads on my forehead as another contraction rips through me. My fingers grip Mikhail's hand tightly, seeking comfort in the strength of his grip. I feel his concern like an electric current crackling between us as he says words of encouragement, urging me on."Push, Maria. You're almost there," he says. His voice is strong and steady, even though worry is etched into his handsome features. Those intense eyes have seen so much violence and bloodshed, and now they're fixed on me. Mikhail has been by my side every step of the way, our relationship forged in danger. And now, we're about to create something beautiful out of it all."Maria, you're doing great," Dr. Galano chimes in, her tone professional but warm. "One more big push and you'll meet your daughter."My body tenses with the effort, and I think back to how we got here. Nights spent tangled in each other's arms, trying to forget the chaos of th
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MikhailThe room is silent as Zakhar reveals the pain he has felt for decades while hiding himself and Maria away. He sits down heavily, and I place a hand on his shoulder, understanding his desperation for his daughter and accepting the honor of his blessing.Sorokin slams the gavel down again and says, "I'm glad to know that you will willingly accept your fate, Zakhar Sergeyevich." He looks at Maria and me, his lip set in a scowl. But then Sorokin glances away and hesitates, almost as if he regrets what he has to say. "The oath has been broken, and our original judgment stands ..."Maria stiffens and reaches for my hand. "No," she whispers, "I can't lose everything I love. I won't." She looks at me, her eyes wide and desperate for reassurance. "Mikhail ... no."Behind us the doors burst open, and Zhanna strides in, flanked by several women of the Bratva. Paige Barinov, Natasha Chuikov, Sonia Karamazov, and my own sister, Larissa. The men fall silent as the women make their way towar
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MikhailWe agreed to meet on neutral territory, and the Poconos was mentioned briefly, but the Barinov Estate was chosen instead.The drive through the woods reminds me too much of driving to Sorokin's castle, but I'm relieved when two large gates open, revealing a red brick mansion. Yes, the sprawling structure is formidable, but the house is trimmed in holiday lights, and the remnants of a snowman guard the front door.The mansion has a lightness to it, which brings hope. Bright light floods the hall, bouquets decorate every table I pass, and the white marble floors are cleaned to a high gloss. Views of the gardens covered in snow are visible from the window, and a few children play outside, bundled up against the cold.I'm led by a guard to the furthest wing of the house, where I find a set of double doors. I feel hopeful until I'm shown into the dining room. My heart sinks as if it were tied to a boulder and thrown into the ocean. Contrary to my expectation of a bright and open sp
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MariaThe dark road seems familiar to me, but I'm not sure why I have this feeling of déjà vu. "Where are we going?" I ask my father as his truck navigates through traffic past the dirty piles of snow."Back to the inn," replies Dad. "We've been requested to come to a meeting." Dad's mouth is tight as he concentrates on the route.My heart skips a beat, but I keep my warring emotions inside."You don't look happy about it," I reply softly."Sorokin knows how Gunsyn died," he replies. "Mikhail and I are oath breakers. Sorokin has every right to kill us both. But we're getting a hearing instead.""That's good, isn't it?" I ask, confused."Yes and no." Dad sighs loudly as he slows down for the exit. "Maria, you have to accept that things might not end in our favor. If something happens to me, you're to go live with your uncle Vito. The feud is over, so you'll both be safe.""Nothing bad will happen." I lower my voice and grip the seat to steady my nerves. "You and Mikhail did what you sa
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MariaCHRISTMAS NIGHTIt's only eight thirty on Christmas night, and all day I haven't been in the mood for presents or holiday cheer. I finally give up and go upstairs to sit by my bedroom window. I don't have the energy or desire to do more than watch the snowflakes fall gently to the ground below. I glance over at the closed door and feel a little guilty for not being downstairs. But I can't imagine Dad is too eager to keep celebrating either. The last time I saw him he was sitting in the kitchen listening to a true crime podcast.I take a look around at the hot pink walls, the neatly arranged art books, and the plush stuffed animals on my twin bed.Nothing's changed in my pretty cage, except for me.Soon, I'll have a little girl of my own. I stare at the latest sonogram pictures again and that's the only thing that makes me smile.The world outside is cold and unforgiving, but it's warm and safe in here. In Holtsville, my father will keep me safely tucked away from what's out ther
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MikhailThe penthouse is a mausoleum of her memories, taunting me wherever I look. I stare at the spiral staircase, waiting for Maria to come down. I wait, hoping I'm wrong, but I know she'll never appear. I wander aimlessly up the stairs into her old bedroom, and my gaze falls on the Kuzma Fedorov painting I gave her. I remember that day and how proud Maria was to tell me it was hanging upside down.I, the art expert, was being schooled by a woman who had only seen art in books.But Maria spotted the hidden image of the face in the brushstrokes so clearly. The same way she spotted the light imprints in my father's journals. The same way that she still spotted a glimpse of the man I could have been.I close my eyes, dreaming that when I open them, she'll still be next to me. But I turn and the fantasy gives way to harsh reality.Many of the paintings I owned were destroyed during the attack. And I haven't stepped into my office since she left. I haven't touched a pencil, a pen, or a b
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MariaCHRISTMAS EVEA few cards sit on the mantel among a twisty wire of bright lights. The Christmas tree stands in one corner, its branches covered in twinkling lights and ornaments from the attic. For the first time in a long while, the living room furniture is draped in cozy red-and-green throws, and a plush white rug adds to the holiday style. The scent of cinnamon and cloves fills the air downstairs, but none of this is enough to put me in the mood.The only thing that makes me smile is a sonogram of my baby propped up on the mantelpiece.Dad sits in the kitchen wrapping gifts. The sound of paper folding and the cut and the hiss of tape being pulled off the spool is calming, like white noise. I stare at the colorful presents crowded under the tree with big loopy bows.I want to care that Christmas is tomorrow, but I just don't.It's hard to care when I can only think about Mikhail."You don't mind that they're coming over?" Dad enters the room, picking at a roll of tape, trying
