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Fifty-Five

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

Mikhail

When I return home, Maria lies across the couch on her stomach, reading a book on Matisse. Her bare feet stick up in the air from a ridiculous peacock-green dress.

She doesn't wear dresses like that—dresses that make her look this sexy.

It stops me from demanding to know why she's here, waiting for me again. She glances over at me but says nothing. Her chin is balanced on one hand as she turns another page. I loosen my tie, feeling the heat dissipate from my body. This time I didn't do the dirty work, letting Rurik dole out the lessons in his stoic, efficient style instead.

"What are you doing up?" I toss my tie onto the coffee table.

Maria keeps her eyes on the book. "I lost track of time."

"You should be asleep," I say severely.

She ignores me and flips another page. Her delicate fingers glide over the glossy surface as she takes more interest in the colorful illustration than in me.

I know she's still angry with me, and I'm glad we have nothing to say to one another. I don'
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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Fifty-Seven

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Fifty-Eight

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    MariaI'm not sure how to feel. Betrayed? Hurt? Angry? Sad? I don't know. I don't feel anything except maybe disappointment. My mind is numb, and I can't focus on anything other than Mikhail's green eyes piercing me."Maria ..." Mikhail starts, but I interrupt him."Stop!" I snap, tears rising in my eyes. "Stop trying to hurt me."Mikhail reaches out for me, but I flinch away from his touch, scooting over to the opposite end of the couch."Don't fucking touch me!" I hiss.I want him to keep his distance. I don't want to be near him right now. Not when he's lying to me. I hate the look on his face. It makes me want to slap him."So now that you found out what you wanted," I say, "you can let me go, right?""No." Mikhail casually picks up a decanter and pours two shots of vodka. "It's because I found what I wanted that I can't ever let you go, Maria.""Why?" I swallow hard. "You don't need me anymore."Mikhail smiles that smile that melts my knees as he hands me one of the shot glasses.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Sixty-Three

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   173

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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

  • 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

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  • 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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