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Eighty-Seven

Author: Chihiro
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

Mikhail

I stand in the dark bedroom, watching Maria asleep in her bed. The moonlight creeps through a gap in the voluminous net curtains that descend from the ceiling. The weak light casts a pale glow on her face, emphasizing her serene expression.

All while the rage builds inside of me.

The only sound is her breathing—soft, gentle, and vulnerable. A wave of temptation seizes me.

I imagine her eyes snapping open in a panic, searching mine for forgiveness as she struggles, unable to break my grip. I imagine her pleading for her life but refusing to show her mercy. I recall the feeling of my fingers on her throat earlier as I fucked her mouth. And I once again imagine the life draining from her body until nothing is left but an empty shell.

I struggle with the hostile emotions that clash in my mind. My nails dig into my palms as if to anchor me to some semblance of sanity. What I know taunts me as I stand over Maria's sleeping figure.

My heart races like an AK punching bullet holes in t
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    MariaI jolt awake, disoriented by a change in the room. I blink until I can make out the shapes in the dark. The soreness in my throat and between my legs is a reminder of what we just did.I am alone, yet a part of me wishes that Mikhail was sleeping next to me with his arm draped over my waist. I stare at the door for a moment, wondering if he were here with me, might I be tempted into doing something daring and possibly very foolish?He'd have no way of defending himself in that state. He'd be entirely at my mercy.You're not a killer, Maria, I tell myself.And with that, I fall back into the pillow and feel myself fade back into a deep sleep.Each day, I can feel the distance widening between us until days later, we act like strangers who mutually ignore each other. I spend more time downstairs in the living room, if only to eavesdrop, but Mikhail is careful to keep the office door firmly shut. I eye him as he walks out of the office with Pavel, and memories of that night surge b

  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Eighty-Nine

    MariaThe kitchen isn't what I expected. I thought it would be a room where people congregate, but it looks more like the back end of a restaurant with its long line of steel tables, stoves, wide sinks, and metal cupboards. On the counters are ceramic bowls, plates, and copper pots. The air is heavy with the smell of garlic and herbs, smoke from the stoves, and the heat of the ovens.Nonetheless, there's an enormous table off to the side for staff to eat. Sitting there eating a sandwich, Anton takes up one whole side. He's the biggest man I've ever seen, but his startled, doe-eyed expression makes him resemble a teddy bear, not a grizzly."Anton, are you picking at the pots again?" Dominika asks. "Your dirty fingers don't belong in the food."He shakes his head as if he's been caught in the act. "No, I brought a sandwich from the take-out."Dominika hugs him, wrapping her arms around him from behind, and though she's been kind to me, I'm shocked by her maternal affection toward Anton.

  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Ninety

    Maria"Trust," I say softly, looking up at Mikhail. "Real trust. We could exist without fear of being used against one another if we had it. ""Trust is difficult."I take a deep breath. "We're in this together, Mikhail. And trust revolves around us, even if you don't believe in it."He slips the ring out of my grasp and gently places it on my finger above my engagement ring.I inhale sharply as if the metal has melded into my skin. "Isn't this bad luck?"Mikhail chuckles, and I'm glad he's laughing. "We still have to know if it fits.""What if it doesn't happen?"His tone changes into something I've never heard before. "I know you want to believe that you know the truth, but your father kept many things from you. None of this is your fault.""We can stop it now." I place my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. The diamond sparkles and I'm drawn to him again. "You don't have to do this, Mikhail."Mikhail leans down and captures my mouth in a burning kiss. Hi

  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Ninety-One

    MikhailOld family photographs are scattered across the low table where I sit in my office as the rain pelts the glass. As a kid, I enjoyed the sound of rain, but as a man, it puts me on edge. The sharp, tiny bursts remind me too much of the sound of gunshots."Brooding again, Kolya?" Larissa's voice startles me as she enters my office. She's wearing bright red and deep yellow, as if filling in for the absent sun.I try to smile, but I can't. "It's my default mode, Lara.""You were always the moody one." She tosses her wet umbrella onto the floor with a careless grace only she could pull off."Careful, or I'll revoke your sibling privileges," I warn her, attempting to lighten my mood."You wouldn't dare," she replies evenly.She hasn't visited the penthouse in weeks. And I notice both her absence and coldness.She strides over and sits down beside me, a smile breaking out slightly when she notices the Kaori painting I've been staring at for the last hour."Chrysanthemum," she says. "M

  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Ninety-Two

    MariaThe rain strikes the massive window, and each drop reminds me of the storm I'm facing alone. The room feels too small with the drapes closed, so I leave them open to let the storm outside keep me company. The room flashes each time the lightning strikes, and I shiver. I feel cold, even though it's warm inside.I can't stop thinking about Mikhail—and what I want to tell him. But I can't. Even if he loves me, I can't. I fidget with the hem of my dress, trying to find the words to express the gnawing feeling inside me ever since Mikhail showed me our rings.It's really going to happen.There are three quick knocks on my door. "Come in," I say.Larissa smiles as she enters. Though I'm happy to see her, I wish it was him.She closes the door behind her securely and then hugs me. Her touch is warm and comforting, the only respite from the hideous thoughts flooding my imagination.Larissa sits in the chair opposite mine. Dominika finally got tired of trying to convince me to stay in th

  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Ninety-Three

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Ninety-Five

    MikhailThe rain pelts against the windshield as Pavel navigates the SUV through the dark streets of Jersey City. The SUV passes through one of the few undeveloped areas left, far from the gleaming high-rise condominiums near the light rail. I stare out the darkened window, but instead of focusing on the scenery, I end up staring at my haggard reflection.We received word that there was a break-in at one of the few Jersey properties where we store various things that shouldn't cross state lines. Add that to the text Maria received on her phone, and I have a very good idea who it was.Innocent or not, she's fueling the conflict."Mikhail Ivanov?" Pavel glances over at me. His uncharacteristic concern heightens my unease."Keep driving," I mutter, pulling out my phone. There are numerous missed calls from Maria and one from Anton. I see her text to call her back; she's desperate to reach me.Alexander suggested she had other ways to communicate with Zakhar. And I didn't believe it until

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   173

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   172

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   171

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   170

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   169

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   168

    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

  • Arranged To The Bravta King   167

    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

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