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Arranged To The Bravta King 142
MariaThe ringtone makes me jump in the still safe house.As the call connects, I focus on Mikhail and try to draw strength from him. But my hands tremble, and I can't help but feel guilt gnawing at me."Put it on FaceTime." Alexander's voice is devoid of emotion.Mikhail swipes his finger across the screen. His expression is focused, and his jaw is set as he mentally prepares for whatever he will see. Mikhail presses his lips into a thin line, indicating the image is worse than I had anticipated."Maria," Dad says quietly, "be ready for anything."My pulse quickens, and blood pounds in my ears as I brace myself for whatever may be on the screen. I know it will be Mercy. Holding myself tight, I have to look and face it head-on. I had many chances to insist that Mikhail let her go. I could have spoken up and insisted Mikhail bring Mercy with us to the bar.My daughter would've also been safe under my protection. You should know that, my niece.But my only concern was me, and I foolishl
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MariaThe sudden baying of dogs pierces the air. The sound carries, echoing off every wall, rising and falling in intensity as it approaches us. In a trance, Dad stands, and his eyes widen in uncontrollable fright, staring at the dark window. But my dad is fearless, and it takes a moment to understand what's happening.His face goes stone white, and the terror that has haunted him becomes real again."Zakhar," I say softly, trying to reach him.But he doesn't respond, and his gaze locks on a distant point I can't see. I feel a surge of sympathy for the man who existed eighteen years ago."Zakhar," I repeat desperately. "Daddy?"Mikhail faces us and confirms what we fear. "Alexander just contacted me. He informed me that he told the Ivanov men that I'm in league with the Lanzzare. My own men are coming to get me.""Your men?" I ask, bewildered."Men loyal to the brigadiers, but not to me."The hum of danger vibrates through the room as the barking mingles with heavy footsteps. I freeze
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MikhailA young man with a slight limp greets us, his somber expression ruthless despite his lack of agility. "Mikhail Ivanov." He extends his hand. "I am Viktor Krasnov. I will be your contact during your stay.""Thank you." My reply is more reflexive than sincere. "I appreciate your hospitality."Viktor nods slightly, and we instantly understand the circumstances that have brought us together. In our world, a guest is someone who needs to hide or is being hidden away. I look around in wonder at the country inn located outside of Twin Rivers. Inside, the building is relaxed and homey, not the over-the-top display of wealth I expect from someone of Andrei Barinov's importance. I grin at the quaint pictures on the wall of farmers working and marvel at the fireplace made entirely of river stones."Does someone live here?" I ask, looking at a knitted throw tossed over a stuffed armchair."Not at this time of year," replies Viktor. "It's privately owned by Paige Barinov. When it's not in
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MikhailI trail kisses down her stomach, and her skin flushes under my touch. She trembles with anticipation as I run my hands over the smoothness of her thighs, pushing them apart. My tongue makes a thin wet line that leads to her soaked pussy. I breathe in her scent, feeling the pulse between her legs.Maria gasps as my tongue dips into her. I lick her slowly. Every moan, every gasp is an aphrodisiac to me. The taste of Maria is intoxicating, and I grow harder, possessing her like this. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, urging me on. She's so close, and then she shouts.With quick hands, I undo my pants and free my hard cock. Maria takes me in her mouth, sucking gently, and I feel like the world has slowed to a stop. Her hands grip my hips, pulling me deeper into her mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, and I don't know if I can take it as my moans quicken. I grip the headboard to keep from losing control completely."Fuck, Maria," I groan. She looks up at me seductively, her lips
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MariaA light drizzle stops, leaving the concrete drive a dark gray. Birds begin to chirp, and the racket puts me on edge. Mikhail sits across from me, clenching his empty holster in his hand. A guard stands near the front door, and his gaze never leaves the small window as he watches for the SUV to arrive."Uncle Vito will be here soon," I say to no one."They just pulled up," replies the guard.Mikhail nods solemnly, and the guilt gnaws at me. I used our baby to convince him to contact Uncle Vito. But it didn't make sense for them to work separately for the same purpose. I was desperate to do something. Something that makes sense, but as much as I wanted to believe we could save Mercy, it might already be too late.Uncle Vito arrives in an armored SUV with blackout windows, which conceals the route to the safe house. As agreed, his phone and gun are confiscated, and he is allowed two bodyguards. Exiting the vehicle, my uncle stops long enough to admire the inn—a quaint stone structu
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MikhailThe cold air bites through my clothing, sending shivers down my spine. The tension between Vito and me is tangible, like the storm overhead waiting to break. Maria has pleaded with us to work together, but I can see in Vito's dirty looks that he is not ready to let go of his anger. Neither am I.The closer I move toward Vito, standing in the drive defiantly, the sharper my glare becomes."You knew what was going on," I tell him. "You hinted at it that evening at the bar, but I had to find out for myself. Well, I dug the shit up. Shit, you could've told me."Vito scoffs. "You would never have trusted me." He spits the words out like acid. "Do you trust us now?"I wince slightly, and his words sting more than he had intended. Memories of what I put Maria through enter my mind—that and my refusal to trust any woman who wanted to get too close."Are you trying to blame me for not trusting you enough to tell you?" Vito taunts, shrugging off his suit jacket. "Come here, Ivanov, and
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MariaAs we drive away from the inn, I wonder how she did it. How did Paige Barinov convince her husband to leave the Bratva? I zone out as my father and Mikhail debate Vito's offer to set up a meeting with the Lanzzare. It won't be long before Vito contacts us with their decision.As the SUV approaches the Sorokin estate, I shiver as I gaze at the imposing, solitary fortress overlooking the ocean. The melancholy estate looms ahead of us, and I start to regret suggesting we return here, but where else could we go? I hope Uncle Vito is successful, but meeting with the Lanzzare is also riddled with risks. I glance at Niko, his gaze fixed on the road, and then at Dad, who tries to hide his unease behind a mask of indifference. The tension in the car is stifling, and I wonder if I'll go mad before all of this ends.We round a bend, driving along a narrow road barely wide enough for our SUV. A lone man appears beside the road, dressed in black clothes and holding a rifle. He eyes us for a
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MikhailI step into the guest room on the ground floor, and the rain has stopped, but the sun refuses to come out. Maria stands by the casement window, her silhouette outlined by the filtered daylight through the sheer curtains. We've all decided to wait here until Vito calls with the Lanzzare decision. There's no point in leaving until we know where to go next. But I wanted to leave. Sorokin's words tossed me into a fury. A pakhan leads, not blames. But his assumptions about my actions don't upset me as much as what Maria did."Why did you make that decision without talking to me first?" I demand.She turns to face me, and I instantly regret the tone of my voice when I see her troubled expression. "Mikhail, we can't keep running from place to place. Please swallow your pride and accept Lanzzare help.""If they offer it," I reply stiffly."They'll do anything to save Mercy," she replies.Her words strike deep because I know Maria is right. Nothing would've stopped me from demanding th
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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
