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Arranged To The Bravta King 113
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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MikhailStanding at the altar, I watch Maria walk down the aisle as if floating toward me on a cloud. She's breathtaking, and her face radiates love, a love that I also feel. Her big hazel eyes lock with mine. A lot has happened since I grabbed her from the streets of Manhattan.I never gave myself time to think about love. But now, not only have I found it, but I will also have a child."She looks very beautiful," Rurik whispers. "Congratulations, Mikhail Ivanov."My chest is filled with pride as she takes her place beside me. It's hard to take my eyes away from hers, but I do. I nod to Anton and Pavel, who move to stand beside me and Rurik, and then I nod to Mercy, who flashes me an unexpected and pleased-looking grin.I realize that my old family may be gone, but today, I will create a new one for those still around me. I feel proud to be their pakhan. I look over at Maria and catch her gaze. She smiles, and I want to sweep her into my arms. To treasure her innocence and determinat
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MikhailMy bloodstained hands are a grim reminder of another wedding turned into a murder scene. My fists clench at my sides as rage and guilt swirl within me like a storm, threatening to break loose. I should be a married man, but instead, I'm planning how I can contain the blowback from my own wedding massacre.The casualties were few, but one is too many. I let my guard down when I shouldn't have.I barge into my office, and the penthouse is once again my haven from a madman's vendetta. I saved Maria from her father, but today, I lost Anton. A good man who sacrificed his own life like my brother did eighteen years ago.My men have gone over every inch of the building, checking for anything that could signal another attempt on our lives, especially bombs. The tension is palpable enough to make its presence known, and every man is on edge after the attack, waiting for the other shoe to drop.The elevator chimes and sharp screams of obscenities replace the uneasy quiet. I turn my atte
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MikhailA solemn Maria looks past them toward the spiral stairs. Then, she turns and walks toward the window, staring at the reflection of her ruined gown. Beautiful, but at the same time melancholic ... like a dream destroyed."Maria." I speak gently as I close the office door. "Mercy must stay here."She turns to face me. "I agree, Mikhail. And probably for the same reasons. The Bratvas will blame the Lanzzare, even though they weren't involved. And the only way to keep things from escalating will depend on my cousin being here. I'm not the naïve girl you saved all those months ago, remember?"I glance over at Pavel, who shoots me a surprised look. I conceal my emotions behind an indifferent mask. I had expected an argument—Maria pleading for her cousin's release and using herself as an example of what could go wrong. But she's right.She's not the naïve girl I saved all those months ago.I'm about to dismiss Pavel when Maria speaks first. "I'm going to check on Mercy. And someone n
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MariaA tear streams down my face as I stare at Anton's coffin, surrounded by white fragrant lilies at the front of the church. He was treasured, and his passing will be remembered by neither anonymous burial nor a quick disposal of his body.The old priest gives the eulogy in an ancient church tucked away on a side street in Manhattan. The attendees are few. People like Zhanna will not come to a funeral for a guard, no matter his loyalty and devotion.But Anton meant the world to me and everyone here in attendance.The pain is raw and leaves a wound that will be hard to heal. My heart aches with the hole of his absence, our friendship stolen by my father's insane vendetta. I choke back a sob, forcing myself to breathe and focus on what will happen next. For Anton, for the Bratva, and for myself.Mikhail holds my hand firmly as the priest leads us in prayer.I wipe away my tears and stand to leave, feeling a sense of purpose. It's time to put an end to this senseless feud. And to do t
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Maria"The night I was shot, I sent a text to my father. I thought I could help by talking to him, but then I changed my mind. I dropped my phone, and when I picked it up ..." I stare into Mikhail's steady gaze. "It's how I knew you were in trouble. I made an awful mistake. And if anything had happened to you ..."My voice trails off, and he turns his back to me. Be strong, Maria. I stirred the pot, and now, I have to clean up the mess. I concentrate on my breathing to keep myself from breaking down.Mikhail faces the window. "So that's why you were there that night."I clench my teeth to silence a sound threatening to escape my throat, wondering if I've lost Mikhail by sneaking around behind his back. I stare at the tension in his broad shoulders as he stares at the city out the window. My body wants to run to him, but my heart fears what he must think about me. He won't even look at me.I can't take it. "Mikhail, please ..."He turns around, but distress is in his gaze instead of an
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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
