Mikhail
A WEEK LATER
I know what Maria thought the day I hurried away from her bedside and out the door. She thought I was on the hunt for Zakhar. Not that day, but I continue to hunt him. In the middle of the night, when she’s asleep, I leave our bed and go out in the night, searching for him.
She may be able to forgive her father, but I will never.
He almost took her away from me. He nearly took the future away from me.
My hate for him has morphed into something that cannot be reasoned with. How cruel it is that I can’t control the intensity of my feelings for either Maria or her father.
I turn on my heels to find Maria and Nina Orlov, the wedding planner, staring at me wide-eyed. I realize then I’ve been pacing the gallery floor. We agreed to meet Nina at the Tatiana Gallery uptown, and she’s glad to have a chance to prove she still has value after the wedding shower fiasco.
Nina smiles, tugging out the chair between her and Maria at the circular table. “Your fiancee has excellent taste, Mikhail Ivanov. I daresay as good as yours.”
I kiss the top of Maria’s head before sitting down. “No, her taste is better than mine.” I struggle a little to make myself comfortable, though a scotch neat would help. “Now, what were the two of you discussing?”
“Actually, we aren’t discussing the wedding,” Nina replies. “We are discussing the upcoming exhibit at the Met-Treasures of the Louvre. They’re doing an exchange of artworks that usually never leave their respective countries. Tickets to the gala opening are hard to come by. Invites only for gallery owners.”
“How lucky that I am a gallery owner.” I grin at Maria, and her face lights up. The way she beams always hooks me.
“Mikhail, are we going?” Her arms wrap around me when I nod. I notice the way her touch is measured and reserved. She may play up the act of a loving fiancee, but I know the turmoil haunting her as well as I know mine.
“Funny,” Nina laughs. “I usually only see that reaction when jewelry is involved.” She pulls a few papers out of her leather portfolio. “Speaking of, I still recommend a destination wedding.”
“Why? Will it be harder to breach security?”
Both Nina and I freeze and stare at Maria as she waits for an answer to her question. The giddiness is gone and replaced with a calm and serious look. For a moment, I don’t recognize this woman I once considered a spoiled princess. And it is in that moment I see someone else on her face.
Subconsciously, my mouth forms the words in silence. Maria Zakharovna-Maria, daughter of Zakhar.
The thought makes my pulse start pounding, and I slow my breath to keep myself steady.
Thankfully, Maria does not notice as she glances at one of the brochures detailing a location in the Bahamas.
When Nina does not immediately respond, Maria continues.
“I have to consider my baby’s safety as well as my own,” Maria says coolly. “Especially after the last time. It doesn’t matter how nice the venue looks if we have gatecrashers.”
Nina straightens her back, obviously not expecting to be questioned in this way by a bride. She pushes the brochures that won’t suit Maria’s requirements back into a binder.
“As I’ve said before. There are private islands in the Caribbean, but distance may also be a concern. Your guests might object to traveling if it puts them at additional risk. There is a location in Upstate New York I would highly recommend. A literal fortress built before this country was birthed. And the good thing about fortresses is that they usually only offer a few known entryways.”
“Perfect.” Maria nods. “That’s what we want.” She holds my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Isn’t that right, dear?” She smiles lovingly at me, morphing back into the sweet girl from Holtsville that I ran into on the streets. “Everything else is perfect-the menu, the flowers, the music. There’s no need to change a thing.”
Nina nods, displaying a look of surprise. “Well, that was easy.” She looks at Maria. “And smart; security is rarely the concern of the bride.”
“Nor of yours, if I recall correctly.” Maria’s voice is hard, and Nina recoils as if she’s been slapped in the face.
“And I do apologize for everything that has happened, but?-”
“You can stop there, Nina,” Maria says. “Thank you.”
Nina’s smile is tight as she loops her purse on her shoulder. “I will set up a final meeting when you confirm the date. I do need an updated guest list.” I nod my understanding, and Nina quickly leaves. The receptionist walks over to the double doors leading into the gallery and locks them with her keys. I motion to her, and she disappears into a back room.
Maria and I sit in silence until we’re alone. Her grip on my hand tightens. “Are you going out today?” she asks. It’s code for something else.
“No.”
“But you’ll go out tonight.” Maria sighs when I look away. “Look, it’s not about Zakhar. I just don’t want to wake up alone and wonder if tonight is the night you don’t come back.”
The desperate look on her beautiful face makes me reach out and take her cheeks in my hands. I kiss her hard, feeling her lips press against mine. I drink in her innocence before it entirely disappears into a tough shell in order to survive.
I pull back, Maria sighs, and then a giggle rips out of her lips. There’s dreamy admiration in her soft gaze, and I wish it didn’t have to go away.
“I’ve noticed you call him Zakhar now,” I say quietly.
Maria tugs herself out of my grasp. “Because my father would never have done this to me.”
“Has he tried to contact you since?” I ask, failing to sound casual.
She shakes her head while staring hard at me. “You know he hasn’t, Mikhail. Am I still being used as bait to catch him?”
“No,” I answer honestly.
“When you asked me to marry you the first time, I said yes because I had to.” She pauses. “But now, I want to. We’re having a baby.”
“And that changes everything?” I ask.
“Yes, it does,” she says. “At least, it does for me.”
I reach for Maria and pull her onto my lap. “I’m doing this to protect us,” I explain. “The past remains in my mind but is no longer my motivation. Do you understand?”
She leans her head on my shoulder, maybe to avoid my gaze. “I think I finally understand it now. The past is still there, but it’s never going to change. The future can, and that’s what I’m looking forward to. The future with my own family. Not the past, where all I had was a broken one.”
I grasp her chin and she stares back at me. I canfeel her innocence slipping away from my fingers like water, and I desperately want to cling to her. I want to scream and shout at her that she’s walking down a path into becoming something that she’ll hate. Something that she won’t be able to forgive.
Something like me.
But I know there’s no way I can stop her from doing that. The old Maria died the moment Zakhar pulled the trigger.
And the new Maria standing in front of me … Sometimes, she’s not even recognizable.
“Maria, I know what you think.” I finally say. “But it’s changed. I may not have changed, but my feelings for you have. Or at least, I’m willing to admit that now.”
“Admit what?” she asks softly, her fingers softly stroking the back of my neck.
“That I want you.” I look her straight in the eyes. “And the baby.” I smile when she giggles again. “You almost look as happy as when you found out about the tickets to the Met.”
She shoves my shoulder playfully. “Shouldn’t I be happy for getting what I want?”
“Am I what you want?” I ask.
“Yes.” We kiss again, and my heart flutters in my chest as she presses her body close to me.
But the moment doesn’t last as Maria pulls away. She stares at the table, and a shadow passes over her face.
“I know I shouldn’t ask,” she says. “But is Zakhar still alive?”
I nod. “He is, but I can’t find him.”
Maria sighs and looks past me out the window. I follow her gaze and watch the pedestrians filling the sidewalk on the street below. Some walk with purpose, and others merely amble with one foot in front of the other. Zakhar is out there somewhere.
I don’t push the topic, and I hope Maria understands that her father is still a threat to us. I don’t tell her that another bomb went off at a warehouse in Port Newark, killing five men. Or that the Lanzzare are closing in around one legitimate business after another, killing one middleman after another, each act guided by knowledge that only Zakhar has.
“Should we work on the guest list?” I ask, changing the subject, but instead of happiness, Maria looks doubtful.
“Would you be upset if I asked my cousin Mercy to be my maid of honor?” she asks slowly.
“The one I met at the bar?” I ask.
Maria’s face blanks as if she’s staring at a ghost. “How long have you known?” she asks.
I smirk. “You both have the same red hair, and she didn’t try hard to conceal who she was. I know she recognized me too. Especially if she’s a Lanzzare.”
“She may be a Lanzzare,” Maria says. “But she’s not like my father. I promise. I know it’s asking a lot, and I doubt she’ll even come. But …” Her voice trails off.
I sigh, and my common sense vanishes as Maria stares at me eagerly. A Lanzzare at a Ivanov wedding. The idea is laughable.
“We have to take strict precautions,” I reply. “You know she’ll be surrounded by people that hate her?”
“They hate me already,” she asks quietly. “Because of Zakhar.”
“But it only matters thatIlove you, Maria.”
Her eyes are wider than her smile. Maria hugs me tight, and her voice shakes. “I love you too.” Her voice echoes through the gallery, and she covers her mouth with her hand, staring at me before bursting into giggles.
I kiss her again, thankful that her sweetness will never really go away.
She shrugs her shoulders playfully. “Who knows, maybe this wedding will be the beginning of a truce.”
I frown. “One wedding guest isn’t much of a truce.”
“Then our baby will be the beginning,” she replies defiantly. “I’m a Lanzzare through my mother and a Ivanov because of you. If we can get along, so can they. We’ll show them, Mikhail.”
I pause, considering her words. The thought of starting a different life and ending the cycle of bloodshed and pain is alluring and terrifying. But I can’t envision a world where I’m free from the Bratva’s expectations and rules, free from seeking out vengeance upon the one enemy that I’ve known my entire life, and free to be the man I was.
That life can exist only in dreams.