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Arranged To The Bravta King 108
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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Maria"Are we getting married here instead?" I look up dubiously at the gray stone castle rising above its surroundings against a cloudless sky. The Sorokin estate sits atop a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean like a nightmare waiting to be dreamt."It looks isolated." I frown as I press my nose against the car window to get a better look.Mikhail smirks. "If you like, but I've already booked the fort upstate."After a quick but romantic day trip to Niagara Falls, we agreed on Fort Charles in Twinning, New York, for our wedding venue. Neither place looks inviting or welcoming, a stark contrast to the joy I feel for my upcoming wedding, but they certainly look like they'll keep an army out."Don't tease me," I tell Mikhail. "I'm nervous enough as it is.""You'll do fine. You've impressed the hell out of them already." He smirks, then lapses into a thoughtful silence.We've been driving for what feels like hours on the NY Thruway. Three SUVs follow behind our Mercedes to a meeting am
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MariaAn impromptu meal is served, and thankfully, there's a choice of what to eat, including a generous salad with no meat.Mikhail barely touches the food on his plate as he launches into why we are here. He looks relaxed as he speaks, and the serious topic sounds as commonplace as discussing the weather."I'm requesting no interference from the other Bratvas in my affairs in the city," Mikhail states clearly. "I'm aware that we have already infringed upon other's territories." He nods toward Dimitri. "But the Ivanovs' future plans will resolve this infringement quickly."Sorokin eyes me. "You trust your future wife a great deal, Mikhail Ivanov, to discuss such delicate matters openly in front of her.""I chose Maria to be my wife for many reasons ...""Is that right?" Sorokin stares at me but not in a way that men have in the past. He's trying to guess if I am worth fighting over. If I'm worthy of being the Bratva's Helen of Troy. He throws down the gauntlet, and I pick it up."Mik
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MikhailThe sweet scent of grapes fills the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the soil as we walk through Sorokin's vineyard. Lush rows of grapevines stretch out beside the castle, occupying acres of land that sweep into the distance. The deep green leaves rustle from the constant breeze off the Atlantic Ocean, creating a multisensory solitude.The tour of his art collection ended with an invitation to stay overnight, which I accepted. I savor a rare moment of peace as the setting sun warms my skin and Maria walks beside me."That smell." Maria inhales deeply. "It's intoxicating." The sun spins threads of gold in her fiery hair, making her innocent beauty stand out radiantly.Maria stretches her arms out and raises her face to the sky. "Would you ever move from the city, Mikhail?" she asks. "Live somewhere like this?""No," I reply simply. "Some people flee the city when it becomes challenging, but I would miss it."Maria moves closer, and her hand finds mine. "Manhattan is nice.
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MariaIn the morning, I almost regret leaving Sorokin's estate as the vehicles line up and pull away from the gatehouse. Reality was paused while we were there, and all I had to think about was being in love with Mikhail.The drive back starts out peacefully until Mikhail receives an urgent call. A string of curses flies out of his mouth—a volatile mix of English and Russian. And slowly, I comprehend what has happened. A shipment was set on fire in Port Newark, and people died as the fire quickly spread through the ship. The Lanzzare have already stated they had nothing to do with it. The Ivanov believe them, which leaves only one person to blame.And though I'm not the guilty party, I feel the shame. How can my father do this? Has he gone insane? Did he go mad when I disappeared, or has he always been this way? As I think back to my childhood, were there clues I missed that would've warned me, and I just didn't realize it at the time?I know now that it's no longer about me, and that
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MariaThe guest list is limited to the top Bratva families on the East Coast, but we'll still have three hundred wedding guests in attendance. No expense is spared for our private ceremony and reception. The exclusive venue, the historic Fort Charles, built in the 1700s, is rustic on the outside but modern on the inside to accommodate upscale milestone celebrations.The bridal suite is opulent—gilded mirrors reflecting the glow of chandeliers, plush velvet sofas adorned with silk throw pillows, and walls bedecked in rich damask wallpaper. A heady scent of white roses fills the air, mingling with the excited laughter of my new friends. I can't help but feel like a princess as I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my ivory undergarments for my final fitting."You look absolutely stunning, koshka." Dominika fawns over me."It's really happening." This is it—the moment that will change my life forever."The two of you are perfect together," Larissa reassures me.Naomi's three-wome
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MariaA canopy is erected from the circular drive to the front door to conceal the guest from prying eyes. And perhaps bullets. I watch from a window as Mikhail greets the first guests. I recognize Popov from a distance with his thick brown beard and a large smile. He grips Mikhail's hand in a firm handshake before the canopy conceals them. Popov has brought his own men, and they scatter in all directions like ants around the outer walls of the fort. Scanning the open surroundings makes me feel less nervous at being able to see out a great distance.But despite all the precautions in the world, my heart hammers in my chest."Don't stand so close to the window, koshka." Dominika's firm hand guides me away. "It will do you no good."But we stay at the window a moment longer and watch Zhanna exit her limo with a young man."Her grandson," whispers Dominika. "Stepan. Oh, that stupid, foolish boy; he thought he was about to marry not too long ago. But his would-be bride's sister put a stop
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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
