Maria
I only came downstairs for a glass of water, having been in my room all morning and most of the afternoon. I didn’t intend to spy, but I heard a man’s voice, and curiosity made me brave.
Drawing nearer, I recognize Mikhail’s low, smooth tone speaking to Larissa. Their voices echo around the walls and then it turns ugly. My feet refuse to move, and my ears can’t shut out their hateful words.
There’s a small alcove near the family room where I can’t be seen from the rest of the hallway. Hidden, I brace myself against the wall as my legs go weak.
“Is it really worth sacrificing everything?” Larissa almost shouts. “Is it worth losing everyone who loves you?”
“I love you, Lara.” His voice is gentle. “But this isn’t about love.”
My stomach churns, and I breathe in large, gulping breaths. This isn’t about love. Their argument hurts more than if he had said it to my face. But when Mikhail talks about me to Larissa in private … it must be the truth. Heavy footsteps move into the hallway, and I sink down the side of the alcove. Lighter footsteps quickly follow, and both people move away from my hiding spot.
“Wait.” Larissa sounds desperate. “Don’t you want to see her?”
“No,” Mikhail cuts her off. He sighs loudly and impatiently. “I’m afraid of what I might say to her,” he replies. “She’s better off staying here with you.”
Larissa says something else, something that I can’t quite hear. But Mikhail’s response comes quickly and clearly enough.
“Tell Maria I will protect her.”
Then the door slams shut. His words hit me hard … harder than a blow. There’s no doubt in my mind what he thinks of me. Mikhail is hurrying off to kill my father because he doesn’t give a shit about me. It’s always been that way. Mikhail lied to me, used me, and now he will murder my father.
Defeated, I slide down to the hard marble floor. I bury my face in my hands, but I don’t cry. I don’t have the strength to cry anymore. The pain is overwhelming. It’s too much. I don’t know what to do. What can I do?
How can Mikhail be this way? I saw his work and the sensitivity behind every stroke on the page. What am I thinking? Some of the greatest artists in the world were complete bastards. I can’t let this happen. I can’t let him kill my father. I have to do something. Wait… I still have the phone.
But before I can move, a firm hand grips my shoulder, and Rurik lifts me off the floor with one hand. He glares at me, and his gaze dares me to try something stupid. He guides me away from the alcove. My hip bumps the table, almost taking out an enormous vase of flowers.
“I was getting a glass of water.” I try to free my arm, but he pulls me along behind him. I stumble as we enter the family room where Larissa reclines on the sofa. She’s been crying, and my bitterness slips down a notch. Mikhail hurt her too.
Rurik gives me a tiny shove forward, and I stumble onto the chair beside her. “I warned you, Lara. She likes to listen.”
Larissa doesn’t look at me. Her face is pale, and she looks scared. But Rurik would never hurt her, would he?
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I really didn’t mean to …”
She waves my apology away. “Mikhail is in a dark state of mind,” she explains. “He’s not himself.” She looks at Rurik. “Dear, please bring us some water.”
Rurik eyes me, but I won’t turn my head, so he leaves. A staff member hurries in with a pitcher filled with ice water and hurries away as soon as the glasses are poured.
I try to be kind toward Larissa, but how can I pretend I’m sympathetic? She knows her brother is a cold-blooded killer.
Larissa sits up and composes her voice. “You need to understand, Maria. Mikhail has been through so much …”
I shake my head, unwilling to listen to excuses. “I don’t deserve any of this,” I whisper. “I’ve had losses too. And I won’t have another one. It won’t be my fault.”
Larissa tries again. “Maria,” she says softly. “I know you’ve suffered and lost your mother. But please, please understand …”
I shake my head and cut her off. “I can’t forgive Mikhail if he does this. I will find a way to protect everyone I care about from him. Everyone that I love. No matter what I have to do.”
“Who exactly is ‘everyone’ you want to protect?” Larissa asks gently.
“My father and my child,” I whisper.
Larissa looks at me as if I’m not done speaking. “And that’s it?”
I avoid looking into her forlorn gaze. “Yes.”
“And Mikhail? Does he mean anything to you?” she asks.
I scoff loudly. “Mikhail put me in this situation. You can’t expect me to care about him.”
“He will change his mind once he knows about the baby.” She watches the hallway as she speaks. “He’ll want to be a husband to you and a father to his baby.”
“He never cared about me,” I reply coldly. “The Bratva is why my family is a mess, and he is why I need protection in the first place. He kidnapped me. Remember?”
Larissa reaches for my hand and holds it tight. “Please, Maria. Don’t judge him so harshly. He’s not a monster.”
I lose my temper in a flash, yank my hand away, and find my voice. “Yes, he is!”
“Maria, I-” Larissa starts, but our conversation is interrupted when voices enter the house.
There’s a commotion in the hallway-loud voices and heavy footsteps. Rurik enters the room, and then two other brigadiers. The quiet, thin one is missing. I wonder what happened to Ippolit, but I’m glad he’s not here. He’s creepier than the rest. Rurik approaches Larissa and whispers something in her ear.
Her eyes widen as her hands reach out to grab mine. “No, they can’t,” she says.
“They can and they will,” Rurik says sullenly. “Lara, you have no say in this.”
My heart bangs in my chest as Rurik guides Lara away from me. “What’s going on?” I ask.
Larissa stares at me, but Rurik answers. “You have to go with them.”
“Go where?” I ask, confused.
“To Gunsyn’s place,” Rurik replies, pulling Larissa into his arms. “For safekeeping.”
My heart beats so fast it hurts as I stare at the frightened expression on Larissa’s face.
She shakes her head. “No, Rurik. Please stop them. Please!”
He maneuvers his body so she stands behind him, blocking her from me. “I’m sorry, Lara,” he replies, “but we have no choice.”
I don’t know where to look. My gaze scans the room for a safe place to go. Gunsyn stands firm while Alexander moves to block my path in case I run. Their hands are itching to grab me. Their calculating eyes lock on me. They watch for any hint of resistance so they can pounce. The two men remind me of monoliths of stone-cold, unmoving, and uncaring. They’re killers like Mikhail.
I’m not scared of Mikhail. But I’m scared of the fact that I might need him.