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Thirty.

Author: Chihiro
last update Last Updated: 2024-08-29 12:26:03

Maria

I don’t dare speak on the car ride back to the penthouse. The Mercedes is filled with boxes and bags from Bergdorf’s, Saks, and Bloomies. My wedding gown sits on my lap in a huge rectangular box that feels heavier than a boulder, dragging me deeper into the depths.

Larissa and Naomi talk nonstop about people I don’t know, and from the sound of it, people I don’t want to know. It’s safer for me to say nothing.

I hope my stupidity doesn’t get Mercy into trouble with Dad. Her opinion of me is right. I don’t know anything about being on my own. I glance over at the two women who are making it seem so easy. Say the right thing. Wear the right clothes.

But it’s not so easy when I do it. And it’s not like I had a crash course on how to live the Mafia life.

Pedestrians cross in front of the car at the red light. One man looks exhausted from his long day. He wipes his forehead on the sleeve of his white shirt as he carries his jacket in his hand. I wonder if he knows how lucky he is to b
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    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

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  • 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

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  • 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

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Thirty-Four

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  • 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

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Thirty-Six

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Thirty-Seven

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Thirty-Eight

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   175

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   173

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  • 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

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   170

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  • 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

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