93

Maria
There’s a fast knock, and then the door opens cautiously. Mikhail’s strong figure frames the doorway before he steps into my bedroom. Shadows play over his striking features as our eyes lock, and I feel an unwanted pull toward him. His green eyes hold me in place, making it impossible to turn away. His intensity both captivates me and makes me uneasy at the same time.
“Maria, I want to talk.” His voice shivers across my skin.
“About what?” I ask innocently, but I know exactly what this is about. Larissa didn’t keep her promise. She must have told him my secret.
Mikhail comes closer but avoids returning my gaze before tossing himself in a chair. “The wedding.”
I swallow, and he notices, but I play it off quickly like there’s something in my throat. “Is there still going to be one?” I ask.
Mikhail’s gaze pierces me. “Yes.” His firm voice warns me not to question him again. But I don’t heed the warning.
“I don’t want to be a part of your farce. You’re willing to protect me, Mikhail, but not my father.” I confront him head-on, stepping into his personal space. “No matter his crimes against you and the Bratva, he’s still my father, Mikhail. And I love him.”
Mikhail flinches when I utter the word love. He loves his family deeply but can’t comprehend anyone else being the same way.
“I can’t betray my family or my position as pakhan,” he says those same bitter words that I’m so tired of hearing. “It’s complicated.”
“Is it?” I scoff bitterly. “It doesn’t seem that complicated to me.”
“Maria, it’s not like that …” he starts, but I cut him off.
“What makes me so different from him? To the Bratva, I’m a traitor too, just like him. You’ve said so yourself.”
Mikhail’s harsh gaze never leaves my demanding one. But I won’t back down when I know I’m right. I’m determined to make Mikhail justify his hypocrisy.
For a moment, uncertainty flashes across his face before his expression hardens once more. “Maria, you’re no traitor,” he insists. “You’re not like your father.”
My voice cracks as my resolve to be tough starts to weaken. “Then why won’t you let me plead for my father’s life?”
A controlling silence hangs in the air as Mikhail searches for the right response. But deep down, we both know there’s no compromise. A slow minute passes, but no words come from his mouth, leaving me overwhelmed by disappointment.
“Maria, I …” he begins.
“No,” I snap, and my anger reignites my determination. “Your family killed my mother. And my family killed your brother. All this bloodshed, for what? Where does it end?”
“Maria, I understand how you feel-” he tries again, but I cut him off.
“Do you?” My voice snaps like a whip as I turn my back on him. “You won’t be satisfied until my father is dead. And when my father is dead, what will stop your brigadiers from killing me now that I’m no use to them?”
“It won’t happen!” Mikhail roars as he stands and grips me, turning me around. “I’m a man of my word, Maria.”
I put an icy distance between us. “But at what cost?” My voice falters. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me. Because of us.”
Mikhail closes the distance between us. A sad smile appears on his face, and his thumb gently brushes against my cheek. The warmth of his touch sends a thrum down my body, reminding me why I can never truly turn away from him. The rain pelts against the window in the heavy silence while Mikhail’s hand finds mine. He lifts it to his lips and kisses it like it’s one of his treasures.
My voice quivers as I watch Mikhail kiss my hand again. “About our engagement,” I start. “Why do you care so much? Is it still a fake arrangement? Or has it become something … else?”
Mikhail’s eyes search mine as if the answer is there, his expression unreadable. “If everyone believes it’s real,” he says, his voice low and sexy, “then doesn’t that make it real?”
I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “You’re not answering the question.” I stare into Mikhail’s eyes, searching for reassurance.
“But I did.” Mikhail raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. His grip on my waist tightens, and I feel the warmth of his body as he moves closer. “Maria, I don’t want to fight with you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.
A sigh slips from my lips before I can stop it. A mix of guilt and love swirls within my head, making it wobbly as I close my eyes. How can I fall for the man who represents everything my father hates? Mikhail tugs me closer and captures my lips, his kiss tender and hungry. My heart flips in my chest as he pulls me closer, holding me tightly. I want to lose myself in him, forget about the world outside this room. What we do here is our secret.
“Maria,” he breathes against my neck, trailing kisses down my collarbone. “I’ll take care of you.”
“But do you love me?”
Mikhail holds me tighter. “Yes.”
A shiver runs through me at hearing that one little word. But will love change anything?
“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers.
“No.” My voice trembles with eagerness. Alone, I can let myself belong to Mikhail.
He lifts me tenderly and lays me down on the bed. His gentle touch electrifies my desire as he undresses me. Unbuttoning the front of my dress, he lets it fall away from my body. His gaze never leaves mine, as if asking for permission to have me.
The pleasure he gives me is intense and accompanied by a deep sense of guilt. It’s impossible not to think about the bloodshed and betrayal that have led us here and the lives that hang in the balance because of a blood feud.
Sighing, I open my legs to him and cling to his strong back as he kisses me. His cock presses against my thigh, leaving a wet mark on my skin. I place my fingers in between my lips, stroking myself as his tongue moves in my mouth.
I press his tip into me, taking him in with a motion of my hips, and the room swirls as the sensation rushes over me. His fullness fills me as I match the rhythm underneath his strong body. My eyes flutter open, and he’s watching me, a look of tenderness in his eyes. Love. He said he loved me, but I didn’t know what to say. Will that be our secret too?
Moaning, I wrap my legs around his hips as he goes deeper. Each stroke pushes me closer to the edge. I shouldn’t have him. I shouldn’t want him. He’s definitely Mr. Wrong, but I want what I should never have.
“Maria,” he whispers between kisses, as if sensing the war battling inside me.
“Deeper,” I murmur. “Make me forget I should hate you.” I close my eyes and let the feelings take over my mind, blocking out all the sins I know I’m committing.
Mikhail buries his face in my neck and nips my skin, leaving his mark. I hate what he is-a pakhan, an embodiment of violence and cruelty, like my father.
We lie entwined on tangled sheets, and I find myself seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my cheek. The question returns and lingers. Can he change?
I can’t fall asleep. The silence between us grows heavy, the tension hanging in the air, but neither of us is willing to speak. We both know I’m torn between my loyalty to my father and my feelings for the man who has stolen my heart.
Mikhail kisses my forehead tenderly and I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep.
The phone on the dresser lights up and chimes while the light illuminates the room. I stare at it, speechless. Mikhail reaches it first and stares at the screen. He places the phone down, grabs his clothes, and leaves me lying there alone. I jump out of bed and run to the dresser, picking up the phone in my trembling hand as I read the text.
Stay strong, sweetheart. One thing left to do.