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Arranged To The Bravta King Twenty-One.
Mikhail.I trudge into the living room, bleary-eyed from a restless night. My sister Larissa is already here, standing in front of a window, looking out. She’s not interested in art, but she pretends to humor me as she’s always done since I was a little boy. Upon hearing my footsteps behind her, she glides toward me, smiling her sad smile, and fixes my collar and tie. She smooths my hair with a maternal flourish, reminding me she comes before me in the birth order.“My dear Kolya.” She sits on the edge of the couch with her chin held high. “A pakhan in name, but still the little boy whose hair I used to muss.”I can feel the weight of everything she doesn’t say. Sighing, I remain on my feet and wonder how much Rurik has told her.“You’re here early,” I say. “What’s on your mind?”“What else?” She spreads her hands like Rurik. And I wonder who was the first to use the gesture in their marriage. “Them.”Nothing else needs to be said. Since we were children, we have only ever referred to
Arranged To The Bravta King Twenty-Two.
MariaSleep and I are in a long-distance relationship. I stagger into the ensuite, exhausted, and look at the dark circles under my eyes. I don't have any concealer, so I splash my face with cold water until it hurts like razors. I don't want Mikhail to think he's getting to me.I can deal with what he said, but what Dominika said? That scares the shit out of me. It's enough that I know I won't try running again. A part of me wants to imagine that she's just doing what she's supposed to do to keep me here. But if my meeting with those three brigadiers is any indication, there's a kernel of truth to her words.And that's more than enough.So, I'll have to be patient and wait for my chance. A good chance, completely foolproof, one that I can't possibly mess up.I slowly walk down the spiral steps in search of coffee.I enter the living room, where a statuesque woman sits beside Mikhail. Her dark hair and eyes are mesmerizing, and the dress he has on is amazing—its sheer silk material sc
Arranged To The Bravta King Twenty-Three.
Maria.As the morning progresses, Larissa and I chat over nothing and everything. There are moments I forget I'm being forced to stay here and marry her brother. If Larissa knows my situation, she certainly doesn't show it. Instead, she shares stories of her time traveling through Europe, and I can't help but envy her experiences."Your father never allows you to travel?" she asks, raising an eyebrow."No," I admit, looking away. "He's been very protective of me since my mother died.""I'm so sorry." She places a hand on my knee. "When did your mother pass?""After I was born.""I understand what that's like." Larissa covers her expression quickly and gently takes her hand away to dab at the corner of her eyes. "Our father wasn't exactly the easiest man to live with either, especially after our mother died.""Did you ever feel trapped?" I ask, probing for information and simultaneously hinting a little at what's going on with myself. "Or suffocated?""Always." She gazes out the window
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
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