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Thirty.
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Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty-One.
MariaIt isn’t until morning that I hear someone knocking gently at my door. At first, I don’t answer. But whoever is knocking is persistent and doesn’t leave. It can’t be Mikhail, I reason, because he has a key to the room. And I get the feeling that if I don’t answer, things will only go from bad to worse for me.So, I make my way over to the door and, with a trembling hand, pull it open to reveal a concerned-looking Dominika on the other side.“Is everything all right, koshka?” she asks when I open the door.I shake my head without looking directly at Dominika and watch her from the corner of my eye.She pauses, staring at me intently as if to gauge my response, but I refuse to acknowledge her. Just go away, I think. If she goes away, then I don’t have to deal with whatever the hell else Mikhail plans on doing to me.But she doesn’t. Instead, she shuts the door gently behind her and walks over to me. I steal another look, and there is concern in her eyes. She gestures at the bed and
Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty-Two
MikhailToday was supposed to be a peaceful day of reckless and obscene spending, but not after what Maria did last night. I keep thinking about the solid steel doors that she breached, and my thoughts turn to the secrets she discovered.The secrets that no one else can ever be allowed to know.We wait in silence in the Tatiana Gallery, where we are meeting with our wedding planner. The well-guarded space is situated on the tenth floor of the Waverly Trust building. A bomb left outside would not touch us, but I'm alert to anything out of place. There's nothing.It's filled with timeless works of Russian fine art and relics that once adorned the walls of the aristocratic palaces. Today, their beauty masks the hidden darkness, but I can sense it.It's something profound, something dark. Something that speaks to my own turbulent thoughts.But even those thoughts can't make me tear my mind away from what I found last night: Maria standing before that painting, her eyes filled with wonder
Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty-Three
MikhailI look over at Maria, and she wanders off into the gallery as soon as Nina leaves us. Her gaze moves from one piece to another, but she stops in front of the Kuzma Fedorov again, her eyes narrowing as she studies it intently.I approach her and stand by the painting. Like it or not, she has to start speaking to me again.She stares at me, maybe surprised I'm still silent, but then a tiny smile tugs at her lush lips. Like she knows a secret that I don't."Did you know," she starts, tilting her head, "that this painting is upside down?""Is it now?" I scoff, impressed with her bold claim. Standing beside her, I look at the painting with her. "Why do you say that?"I expect a scowl, but Maria smiles beautifully, lighting her face up with joy. Her voice assumes a confident tone instantly, and Maria stands a little taller as she points toward the canvas."Do you see this line here?" she asks. "See how it curves? And then these two small dots below it? And the long line with two cur
Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty-Four
MariaThe sheer curtains stretch across my bedroom window, concealing Manhattan below. I don't care what's going on outside. My attention is on the painting Mikhail has hung on the wall across from my bed.It's the same Kuzma Fedorov from the gallery.I smirk, noticing it's turned right-side up. In this orientation, I can see that there's more than just a face. The splotches of purple and blue that had been unrecognizable against the green background now transform into a field of wildflowers. And the face, previously upside down, now smiles at the view.I lean in close and close my eyes, imagining I can smell the flowers, even though they're strokes of paint.There's something strangely appropriate. It's like a part of me is trapped within the canvas, forever pictured sitting by a window while staring wistfully outside ever since my world was turned upside down.Yesterday, I watched Mikhail talk to the wedding planner from the corner of my eye. He didn't say it, but he wanted to be al
Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty-Five
MariaSlowly, I notice a man alone across the room, seemingly engrossed in a display of armor in a tall case. But there's something off about him. Each time I glance away from a display, he's there in my periphery. Not close but visible, sending the occasional furtive glance in our direction. He never lingers too long in one spot or gets too close to the other visitors."Who is he?" I ask, my pulse quickening. "Are we in trouble?"Mikhail hesitates, then leans in close so only I can hear. "Lanzzare.""Who?" I ask in confusion. I've never heard of a name like that."I'll tell you later.""Why is he watching us?" I ask, trying to keep my voice low and steady. "Will he hurt us?""He won't dare," Mikhail reassures me. "Not here. But stay close, Maria."Mikhail touches his phone, and in a few minutes, our driver, Anton, appears. He lets the man see him. No words are exchanged, but the man gives a curt nod before he walks away. That's when I realize he's not alone.Another man—one of Mikhai
Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty-Six
MikhailI never should have kissed her.Kidnapping Maria was a necessary evil. Or so I tell myself. But deep down, I know I crossed a line that I can never uncross.Sunlight streams through the wide windows, casting a bright light into the room. The clear morning is in stark contrast to the storm brewing around me. No, within me. The light illuminates a painting hanging on the wall—an abstract piece with swirls of red and black, like blood mingling with shadows. I get up to close the blinds to protect my collection, and I feel like an ogre hiding my treasures. I glance toward the spiral staircase, half-hoping to see Maria descend. But she doesn't.A princess in a tower. How appropriate. But I'm no prince. The real prince died years ago.What if ...A new disturbing thought takes shape in my mind. I don't dare let it finish.I can't deny the feelings that Maria is invoking inside of me. They complicate things in more ways than I want to admit. Lust is not love, I tell myself.But what I
Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty-Seven
MikhailZhanna turns to face me, ready to lace into me again, I suppose, but her expression changes to alarm. Her pale blue eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. At first, I think she's having a stroke until I turn quickly to see what caused it.Maria is descending the spiral staircase.Her eyes meet mine briefly, filled with questions and concern, before focusing on Zhanna, first with curiosity and then with a hint of apprehension.Zhanna lifts her finger and points at Maria. "Who is this?" she demands in Russian."She's my fiancée," I reply in English as I step between them to shield Maria from Zhanna's piercing gaze and sharp tongue. "Maria.""Maria ..." she whispers the name as she rises from her seat.Zhanna's haughty countenance crumples at the sight of Maria, revealing an unfathomable sadness. She looks at Maria with a gloomy look edged with tiredness, as though seeing an old friend after years apart. A friend she regrets not treating like the good friend they were. Her gaze dr
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
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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
