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Thirty-Seven
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Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty-Eight
MariaI don't know why I wore a satin dress. This isn't the prom, not that I went. The material is already wrinkled, and we haven't left the limo. Smoothing it with my hand is not helping. I look like a peach throw pillow that's burst open and been put back together with double-stick tape.We've driven almost an hour and still haven't arrived. My right leg bobs up and down like a piston until the limo passes through a pair of towering ironwork gates leading down a drive to a massive mansion.I jump when a man with an earpiece peers into the tinted window directly at me. The only thing separating us is the glass. Intricate tattoos cover his hands and neck, and my heart sticks in my throat. He eyes me warily and then Mikhail.Mikhail barely turns his head as he continues talking with Rurik, Larissa's husband. Rurik lifts his hand and motions the man away.The man taps on the window, motioning for the window to lower. I slowly move closer to Mikhail, and he looks over."What does he want
Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty-Nine
Maria"So, this is the one your brother picked.""My name is Darya Kuznetsov." A tall, bleached blonde in a tight gold gown looks me over. "Dima's wife."She pauses and waits for me to comment, but I don't. Dima? Why does that sound familiar?"He's around, talking to the men," Darya continues as she cocks an eyebrow. "How old are you, girl?""I'm eighteen." I try hard not to stare at her huge breasts, but she's wearing heels that put them right at eye level, and she radiates bitch energy."Best stay away from my Dima." Darya laughs, her voice shrill and sharp. But her eyes betray no humor, and when she stares, I can see the hate in them. "I told that neryakha that I was twenty when he came to talk to me. One look at you, and he'll know I lied."I clutch the stem of my glass and pull at the hem of my dress, aware of how out of place my pastel dress looks among these sophisticated designer dresses."I'll keep that in mind then," I stammer and walk away before Darya has a chance to throw
Arranged To The Bravta King Forty
MariaAfter meeting Natasha, I'm no longer gawked at by the other women, and I like it. Unfortunately, the room's nonstop chatter and the smell of fish are getting to me, so I walk over to the French doors leading into the massive yard. I gaze at the tantalizing woods in the yard, imagining the freedom they promise, but not daring to wander into them.Where would I go?A rock and a hard place are my only choices. So, I walk a fair distance over to a garden bench and sit down, ignoring the men with sunglasses and earpieces watching me.The grounds here are huge, and there are hints of roots and brambles all around, tracing a pattern that reminds me oddly of a maze.A man whispers something I cannot hear as I approach. I roll my eyes as I pass him and make sure he sees it. These people ignore me when I'm around, but the minute I leave, I'm watched. I pull my dress tightly around my legs and stare at the house, wondering where Mikhail is."Dance?" A deep voice interrupts my thoughts, and
Arranged To The Bravta King Forty-One
MikhailThe penthouse is quiet when I arrive home. I half expect Maria to be sitting where she was that other night after the bombing, flipping through a book from the shelf, admiring the glossy photos of art from museums she would like to see.Places all over the world, but she’s forced to stay here with me.But she’s nowhere to be found. I make my way up the stairs to her door, my mind still seeing the reproach in her eyes earlier, the wild fear when I reached for her, and behind the fear, unmistakable revulsion.I knock and hear only a sniffle. Gently, I open the door and find her wrapped in a robe and lying on her bed. The silly dress she wore is gone. She’s changed into her pajamas and her hair is still damp from the shower.“Are you all right?” I ask, searching her eyes.Maria’s face pales as she watches me walk toward the bed. Her lips part slightly, trembling as she tries to form words. She has no makeup on and her eyes are wide—the picture-perfect image of innocence and vulne
Arranged To The Bravta King Forty-Two
MikhailI glance back at Maria, and her gaze is curious as she stumbles after me down the narrow flight of stairs. My own oversight led to the door being unlocked that other day, and I can hardly blame Maria’s curiosity for wanting to know what was in the room.After all, she was granted freedom to roam and explore the penthouse, and I set no boundaries.I didn’t expect her to wander down there. As much as I dislike the idea that she’s caught a glimpse of a piece of me that I keep hidden from the world, a part of me is secretly glad she’s seen it.I wasn’t ready to tell her the truth then. But I am now. I want her to see me for more than the wealthy criminal she thinks I am.Her eyes widen when we stand before the heavy door. Fear creeps into their hazel depths as she imagines one terrifying scenario after another.“Mikhail, please,” she begs. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I?—”I cut her off with a stare. “Do you trust me?”“I …” she stammers, but her denial dies in her throat as curiosity
Arranged To The Bravta King Forty-Three
MariaMikhail’s words send me reeling. When Larissa told me he blamed himself for his mother’s death, I had no idea that it was something like this. But just like everything he tells me, even this answer leaves me with more questions.And I’ve come too far now to turn back from finding out the rest.“How?” I ask.His grip on my hand doesn’t change, but he looks at me with such intensity that I can feel his stare crushing my bones into dust. My heartbeat picks up from his stare, but I don’t look away.“She threw herself off the terrace.” His voice is low. And even at this volume, I can hear it cracking slightly. “Eighteen years ago.”He looks away, turning his eyes—shimmering in the dim light—toward the painting of the woman. There’s no mistaking the guilt in his gaze as he looks into the soft eyes of his mother, forever memorialized on canvas.The world spins around me as I struggle to find the words—any words—to say back to him. But what are the right words when someone says somethin
Arranged To The Bravta King Forty-Four
MariaHis lips feel like a heady mixture of heat and firmness that I'll never forget. The warmth of his breath, mingling with mine, sends shivers down my spine, each caress of his tongue stoking my desire as I reach for him, gripping his shirt with both hands. My body reacts on instinct, fueled by a need that makes me tingle. I wrap my arms around his neck as we topple onto a nearby table.I pull Mikhail's hard body down on me and wiggle against him. I feel him harden against my thigh at the same time as a sharp twitch trembles between my legs. My thighs open as he places his hips between them, and I press hard against him. His eyes flutter shut as he moans deeply.We break apart. Panting and breathless, I search Mikhail's expression for answers. I've never felt this before, and I'm too nervous to say something, lest I break the intensity of this moment. I've never wanted someone so badly as now, someone I should never have.There's a hint of darkness lingering in his gaze, a reminder
Arranged To The Bravta King Forty-Five
MariaI stare up at the lights and place my hands on my stomach as Mikhail pulls my panties down. I wait for him to touch me there, but he doesn't start there. He kisses down my body, starting at my collarbone. He gently sucks and nibbles at my breasts before moving down to my stomach. He kisses my hands and pulls them away, and then he continues lower.His serious gaze causes me to giggle. That giggle turns into a long sigh as he makes his way down my body.I open my legs wider, gasping as his scorching lips leave a trail of kisses behind them. "I like what you're doing."He chuckles. "I haven't even started yet." His lips are rumbling against my skin. "I can't wait to taste you, Maria."I shiver as cool air hits my skin. Every touch of his lips shoots pleasure through my body. My senses are heightened, and I'm aware of the way the rough wooden table presses against my back and the way Mikhail's warm breath moves across my skin."Oh," I whisper as his finger slides into me."Do you w
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Arranged To The Bravta King Fifty-Seven
