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Twenty-Three.
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Arranged To The Bravta King Twenty-Four.
MikhailThe gallery opening is filled with invited guests in formal evening attire. Venomous words are exchanged behind masks of pleasantries, and all of it is buoyed by the copious amounts of champagne in their glasses. Gossip and rumor take flight in light whispers and raucous laughter, all while hands hide lips dripping with scandalous secrets. Wait-staff weaves through the crowd, carrying delicacies on silver platters, offering them to anyone who catches their eye... and remembering any worthwhile rumor to be passed back to me later.I hold a crystal flute up to my lips and take a sip, the bubbles tingling on my tongue. My chest swells with pride as I accept one congratulation after another on my newest gallery—the Vedere.Tonight, the room subtly sparkles and glimmers with muted golden lamps illuminating the art pieces around the space. As I move through the space, I engage in small talk here and there, commenting on the artwork with my guests.These people don't know me as a cr
Arranged To The Bravta King Twenty-Five.
Mikhail.The ringing in my ears is deafening, drowning out the screams and cries for help that echo around the gallery. My vision blurs as I wipe blood from a cut above my eye. My mind races, trying to make sense of what just happened."Mikhail Ivanov!" Anton shouts my name, but I can't see him through the smoke. "Mikhail Ivanov!""Find my sister!" I yell back. My hand flies to my side, and panic seizes my throat when I do not feel my gun. It takes me a second to remember that I had left it behind because tonight was supposed to be a respectable affair.Around me, people lie sprawled on the floor, some motionless, while others claw at the debris that pins them down, their faces twisted in agony. Blood splatters are on the once pristine walls, and the canvases are hanging in tatters.It's all gone. In seconds, it has been destroyed."Help! Please, somebody, help!" Izzie's voice pierces above the din, her desperate sobs rising above the commotion. I glance over to her, cradling Gaspar i
Arranged To The Bravta King Twenty-Six.
Mikhail.When I walk off the elevator, Maria is sitting on the floor in a pair of borrowed jeans and a T-shirt. She turns the pages of a book on El Greco, and her hands smooth down the pages. I'm thankful I didn't bring her out tonight. Not having an evening dress and her eagerness to run away probably saved her life. I tower over her, my arms crossed over my chest as I stare down at her.She looks at me with surprise, her mouth forming an O. She notices my smoky clothes and sooty skin. The aroma of burning debris lingers around me. Her hands rise to her face as she continues to gaze at me in astonishment."What happened to you?" she asks, getting to her feet.I can tell she's concerned about me. It drops my anger a notch even as Alexander's words echo in my mind. Her father was always a very accomplished bomb maker.I take a deep breath and let it out slowly."A bomb went off at the gallery."Maria gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. Unexpectedly, she closes the distance between us,
Arranged To The Bravta King Twenty-Seven.
Mikhail.My smile fades when I see the look on Rurik's face as he hurries into the underground garage toward me. "Is Larissa okay?" I ask in a whisper."Your sister is fine." He nods. "And she's still happily married to me."I don't conceal my thoughts from Rurik. He's one of the few people I trust without hesitation. "What's going on?""The Lanzzare are moving fast in the wake of the bombing." Rurik quickly drops the levity. "This time, the ports.""Boroughs or Jersey?" I ask."Jersey. They're relying on the distance to get away with their shit."I shake my head. "It's not that far away." My father fought tooth and nail to keep the Lanzzare out of his territory, but they're eager to exploit the void, as they did last night.The bomb at the gallery wasn't a threat. It was a wake-up call."Ready for some payback?" I ask."Always." A vicious grin spreads across Rurik's face. "Let's teach them a lesson."I can't help but match his enthusiasm. Long before Rurik married Larissa, he watched
Arranged To The Bravta King Twenty-Eight.
MariaA FEW DAYS LATERThe chime goes off, and I watch the elevator doors with anticipation. A blonde in a fancy coral suit steps into the living room.“Oh, this view.” She rushes toward the window as if she’s about to spread her wings and fly off. “Manhattan is a jewel from these dizzying heights.”Dizzying? I tilt an eyebrow and stare at our newest inmate. Larissa hurries off the elevator and herds the blonde toward me.Other than an errant bandage here and there, she betrays no sign that she nearly lost her life in a horrific bombing.“Maria,” she says, “this is Naomi St. Clair. She owns several boutiques. Perhaps you’ve heard of them?”They look expectantly at me as if I’d know. Eventually, I shake my head.“Well, she dresses all the members of our … family.” Larissa draws a tight smile across her features and turns away to lock the elevator.I can’t help but notice that her hands are shaking slightly.“Good morning, Maria.” Naomi extends her hand, and we shake. “I’ve heard such w
Arranged To The Bravta King Twenty-Nine.
MariaLuckily, I have the address etched in my memory. Larissa and Naomi look skeptical when we pull up to the shabby walkup with neon signs in the dusty windows, but I sigh with relief. I just have to ditch them, and then I’m free.Mercy’s back is to me when I enter, but the bald bartender stares hard as we walk in. His eyes widen for a moment when he sees us, but he points to a table near the door anyway. My sneakers bounce against the tiled floor as we take our seats. From the corner of my eye, I notice the bald guy call Mercy over to the bar. He extends his index finger slowly, and hell comes swooping down on me.Mercy storms over to the table, her teeth grinding and steam coming out of her ears. “Where the hell have you been?”Larissa and Naomi exchange a startled look as Mercy goes on a rant worthy of reality TV.“You just disappeared and didn’t come back? What the fuck is wrong with that? Your da — oww!” She leaps back and then glares at me. “Did you just kick me?”“Is somethin
Arranged To The Bravta King Thirty.
MariaI 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
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
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