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Arranged To The Bravta King Eleven.
MariaThe sound of the lock latching echoes through the room like a death knell. I fight to catch my breath as panic rises through my body. My gaze stays on the door, waiting for it to open again.Oh God, no!Sobbing, I remain in the corner. The cool glass presses against my forehead as I curl up in a ball, and the reality of my situation settles around me like a thick fog. I've been imprisoned by a madman who tells me I'm going to marry him. This is exactly what my dad warned me about. But how did he even know?As I sit there, I feel a sense of bigger betrayal. I had faith in my future, and this man stole it away. Mikhail has shown me his true nature. He isn't charming or smart. He's evil, and I don't want to think about what he wants to do with me.... What he already did to me.Memories of his hands roaming across my body enter my mind, and shame bubbles up in my mind. The way he held me down underneath the weight of his body as I struggled awoke something inside of me. Something t
Arranged To The Bravta King Twelve.
MariaOutside, the steady points of light from skyscrapers appear impossibly distant. I stick my head out the window, and fear laces into my stomach when I see nothing below me. But there's a ledge that extends a bit further to a perpendicular wall with a metal ladder.I have no idea where the ladder goes, but I know that it's away from here.Deep breaths. I'm just sneaking out of the house. This is no different than climbing down the trellis in Holtsville. It's just a matter of scale.Except if you fall, it's a long way down."What choices do you have, Maria?" I whisper. "You wanna stay here and marry this maniac?"With that, I push the window wide open, turn around, and wiggle through the small opening. My toe touches a narrow ledge. Crap. It's not only narrow, it's slippery. Even if I want to, I can't go back now, not from this bent position. Sliding down, I kick off my shoes as I cling to the side of the building, and the wind whips my hair into my face.Don't look down. Don't loo
Arranged To The Bravta King Thirteen.
MariaI race to the far end of the terrace and grab hold of a tower. Gripping a gargoyle, I hoist myself up and balance on the rampart, not daring to look down."I won't marry you!" I shout as I climb higher. The harsh wind whips my dress around me, and trembling, I refuse to climb down. "I'll jump! I swear!""No, you won't," Mikhail says, a flicker of concern crossing his face before he masks it with a scowl. "Don't be stupid.""Please," I shout, fighting to keep myself from sobbing. "Just let me go."Mikhail's expression tightens as if struggling to hold onto his sanity. "No," he says evenly as he walks toward me. The wind caresses his hair, and those piercing eyes stare hard as if his gaze is all he needs to make me obey his wishes.His suit jacket is gone, and his dress shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his belly button, revealing rippling bands of muscles across his chest and abs. Tattoos decorate the harsh landscape of his body, and his sharp features are accentuated by th
Arranged To The Bravta King Fourteen.
MikhailShe's like no one I've ever met.I sit beside Maria's bed and watch her sleep, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. A soft glow from the bedside lamp illuminates her sleeping form, creating an almost ethereal aura around her face. Her expression, contorted with pain earlier, now displays a tranquil expression.In this light, she has the look of a princess. I can almost forget the glimpse of the fierce hellcat underneath.Almost.I admire her courage. Foolish but definitely brave.Her long, curly, auburn hair fans out like a halo on the silk pillowcase. A dark bruise mars her soft cheek, and a bandage is wrapped tightly around her wrist. All because of me. It takes every fiber of my being to not reach out and caress the wound. But something tells me that if I so much as feel her skin against mine, then all semblance of control will burn away like mist on the morning sun.I force myself to look away. Guilt, desire, anger, and other emotions that I cannot—or dare
Arranged To The Bravta King Fifteen.
MariaI wake up, and it takes me a while before I realize I'm staring up at the ceiling.My hands feel something soft underneath me, and I wonder if everything was a dream. A few seconds pass, and I take a deep breath. It doesn't smell like my room. Blinking against the darkness above, I reach over to the curtains, draw them back, and see the glittering lights of New York sprawled out before me as the dying embers of a sunset paint the western horizon with a splash of pink and gold.Memories of the roaring wind whipping around me rush back to the forefront of my mind. I try to sit up, and pain greets me like an old friend.Not a dream, definitely real.Wincing, I lie back down, body aching but miraculously intact. I try to figure out just what the hell happened. How am I still alive and not splattered across the pavement?Despite the pain, I can't help but reflect on the irony. I ran away from my controlling father, desperate for a chance to live my own life. And where did I end up? K
Arranged To The Bravta King Sixteen.
MariaI'm allowed to wander the penthouse after my ordeal. Mikhail doesn't realize how desperate I am to leave the confinement of my room. The freedom I'm afforded tells me that he knows I won't dare try it again. My previous dress was shredded. What's left of it lies on the floor by my bed. A reminder of how close I came to my death.I don't want breakfast, but I don't want to stay in this room. The view is breathtaking, yes, but there's no art in this room. And despite everything going to hell impressively, I want to see what other artwork this madman owns.How dare he laugh at me?The walk-in closet in my bedroom is empty. I guess a designer wardrobe materializing out of nowhere only exists in fairy tales. I yank the flat sheet off my bed and wrap it around me, twisting the ends together to make a rudimentary dress. My reflection looks passable, if a little trashy.Briefly, I wonder if he'll demand that I change into something more acceptable. But then I remind myself that I'm his
Arranged To The Bravta King Seventeen.
Maria"I don't know any more than what you do." The words catch in my throat, and suddenly I wonder if I've said too much."Is that so?" Alexander asks, a hint of skepticism in his posh tone. "Your father was a very important man. He never told you anything? Not even about his old friends?""My father works with computers," I insist, my voice wavering despite my best efforts. "And he never talked about friends."The men exchange glances, clearly not convinced by my answer."He works with computers, yet you don't have a phone?" Ippolit asks softly. "No social media presence for a young lady like yourself. Why?"I shift uncomfortably in my seat, keenly aware of their scrutinizing gazes. "My father doesn't trust it," I say, trying to sound confident but feeling anything but. "He thought it wouldn't be safe for me.""Safe?" Ippolit presses, narrowing his eyes. "Did he ever tell you why he was so concerned about your safety?"My hands tremble, and I pull the pillow closer to me to hide my
Arranged To The Bravta King Eighteen.
Mikhail"Thank you, Dominika."She nods toward me before leaving the room. But her stony gaze stays on the three brigadiers.I look toward the spiral staircase; then I hear a door click shut. Maria is back in her room. Good, it's safer that we have the rest of this conversation in private. Without a word, I walk toward my office, and the brigadiers follow.The room is less of an office and more of a lounge. A small chrome bar with select vintages, several low sofas and side tables in chocolate and beige, and a space for art. Many of my treasured pieces are here for me to view alone. Works by Picasso and Pollock not seen in public since the day they were created. I resent having the brigadiers invade my private abode, but it's obvious that Maria likes to listen.And there are things she cannot be allowed to hear."There is no doubt, Mikhail Ivanov," Ippolit speaks, calm and calculating, before I can. "She is Budanov's daughter.""How can you be certain?" I ask him as I get a grip on my
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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
Arranged To The Bravta King 174
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
Arranged To The Bravta King 173
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
Arranged To The Bravta King 172
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
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
Arranged To The Bravta King 170
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
Arranged To The Bravta King 169
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
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
