All Chapters of Arranged To The Bravta King: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

MariaAn impromptu meal is served, and thankfully, there's a choice of what to eat, including a generous salad with no meat.Mikhail barely touches the food on his plate as he launches into why we are here. He looks relaxed as he speaks, and the serious topic sounds as commonplace as discussing the weather."I'm requesting no interference from the other Bratvas in my affairs in the city," Mikhail states clearly. "I'm aware that we have already infringed upon other's territories." He nods toward Dimitri. "But the Ivanovs' future plans will resolve this infringement quickly."Sorokin eyes me. "You trust your future wife a great deal, Mikhail Ivanov, to discuss such delicate matters openly in front of her.""I chose Maria to be my wife for many reasons ...""Is that right?" Sorokin stares at me but not in a way that men have in the past. He's trying to guess if I am worth fighting over. If I'm worthy of being the Bratva's Helen of Troy. He throws down the gauntlet, and I pick it up."Mik

MariaIn the morning, I almost regret leaving Sorokin's estate as the vehicles line up and pull away from the gatehouse. Reality was paused while we were there, and all I had to think about was being in love with Mikhail.The drive back starts out peacefully until Mikhail receives an urgent call. A string of curses flies out of his mouth—a volatile mix of English and Russian. And slowly, I comprehend what has happened. A shipment was set on fire in Port Newark, and people died as the fire quickly spread through the ship. The Lanzzare have already stated they had nothing to do with it. The Ivanov believe them, which leaves only one person to blame.And though I'm not the guilty party, I feel the shame. How can my father do this? Has he gone insane? Did he go mad when I disappeared, or has he always been this way? As I think back to my childhood, were there clues I missed that would've warned me, and I just didn't realize it at the time?I know now that it's no longer about me, and that

MariaA canopy is erected from the circular drive to the front door to conceal the guest from prying eyes. And perhaps bullets. I watch from a window as Mikhail greets the first guests. I recognize Popov from a distance with his thick brown beard and a large smile. He grips Mikhail's hand in a firm handshake before the canopy conceals them. Popov has brought his own men, and they scatter in all directions like ants around the outer walls of the fort. Scanning the open surroundings makes me feel less nervous at being able to see out a great distance.But despite all the precautions in the world, my heart hammers in my chest."Don't stand so close to the window, koshka." Dominika's firm hand guides me away. "It will do you no good."But we stay at the window a moment longer and watch Zhanna exit her limo with a young man."Her grandson," whispers Dominika. "Stepan. Oh, that stupid, foolish boy; he thought he was about to marry not too long ago. But his would-be bride's sister put a stop

MikhailMy bloodstained hands are a grim reminder of another wedding turned into a murder scene. My fists clench at my sides as rage and guilt swirl within me like a storm, threatening to break loose. I should be a married man, but instead, I'm planning how I can contain the blowback from my own wedding massacre.The casualties were few, but one is too many. I let my guard down when I shouldn't have.I barge into my office, and the penthouse is once again my haven from a madman's vendetta. I saved Maria from her father, but today, I lost Anton. A good man who sacrificed his own life like my brother did eighteen years ago.My men have gone over every inch of the building, checking for anything that could signal another attempt on our lives, especially bombs. The tension is palpable enough to make its presence known, and every man is on edge after the attack, waiting for the other shoe to drop.The elevator chimes and sharp screams of obscenities replace the uneasy quiet. I turn my atte

MariaA tear streams down my face as I stare at Anton's coffin, surrounded by white fragrant lilies at the front of the church. He was treasured, and his passing will be remembered by neither anonymous burial nor a quick disposal of his body.The old priest gives the eulogy in an ancient church tucked away on a side street in Manhattan. The attendees are few. People like Zhanna will not come to a funeral for a guard, no matter his loyalty and devotion.But Anton meant the world to me and everyone here in attendance.The pain is raw and leaves a wound that will be hard to heal. My heart aches with the hole of his absence, our friendship stolen by my father's insane vendetta. I choke back a sob, forcing myself to breathe and focus on what will happen next. For Anton, for the Bratva, and for myself.Mikhail holds my hand firmly as the priest leads us in prayer.I wipe away my tears and stand to leave, feeling a sense of purpose. It's time to put an end to this senseless feud. And to do t