𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 • 10 || ❝𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧❞

>𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃

· ·•◦───────·✧·──────◦•· ·

𝐊 𝐑 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐈 𝐀 𝐍 • 𝐏 𝐄 𝐓 𝐑 𝐎 𝐕

Further days have passed and Mila and I have been avoiding one another, I've been picking up more trouble caused by the American's which thankfully keeps me occupied. I pass her now and again in the mansion but always seem to pick up my pace to get to my office, she is still a troublemaker after all.

But today, there is no avoiding. Our engagement party is tomorrow, I just haven't managed to break the ice yet, I planned it yesterday afternoon and already it required a lot of organisation. "Kristian, I'm talking to you." I pull away from my thoughts and look at Jace who is laughing at me. "I see you're away thinking about the party tomorrow. Mila is going to lose it since you've let her know last minute." Jace has a point, but I simply don't want to tell her just yet, where's the fun in that? The shock on her face is just worth waiting for.

"Later." I gruff.

"You're aware that most of the mafia families are coming, the Irish, British and even the Mexican." The word Mexican causes my ears to perk up with eagerness. The Mexican mafia used to be close with us until a war broke out, apparently the Bratva can no longer be trusted, but what a load of bullshit that is it is them who started the war, and if they attempt to cause one at my engagement party amused is the first feeling I'll experience once I slit their throats.

"We better be prepared then." And with that Jace is off to speak to Elias who will keep an eye on the Mexicans while the party is on, he isn't the best spy for nothing. I continue to go through my messages, some from Cian warning me of the Americans and their past behaviours in engagement parties, no doubt they'll invite themselves. But the best thing to do, is be polite and reasonable.

I make my way to the coffee machine in the kitchen and watch as Polina begins to sweep the kitchen floor, removing the invisible dust particles in between the tiles. I turn the coffee machine on and place a mug under the spout. "Good morning, Mr Petrov." She continues sweeping but gives me eye-contact and a small smile. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" She asks with a curious look on her face, I sigh and nod. Polina and I go way back, she knows how I feel about marriages in the first place, arranged marriages, love marriages, fake marriages the lot is ridiculous.

I take the coffee mug and allow the hot liquid to burn down my throat leaving behind the strong taste of coffee, I suck on my tongue to gather every drop of coffee there is. "All the decorations will be delivered this afternoon; Igor and I will decorate tomorrow morning." I nod in reply.

Walking back to the office with the taste of coffee on my tongue was no more than satisfying, the caffeine boost and the tiredness fading away. I take a seat at the desk and read through my emails from men all around the world saying they're coming tomorrow night. All I had to do was just tell Mila, but that was easier said than done, she's a red head after all.

· ·•◦───────·✧·──────◦•· ·

The day has passed in one swift motion. I hardly did much today, but for some reason I feel so drained. Who knew planning to marry someone would take a toll on energy. I sit in the car and glance over the bush as Nikita is painting, she usually paints bright and beautiful things, but today I can see the dark green being blended with tints of yellow for the highlights, she paints the stem of the flower and begins to trace over her broken petals falling to the floor. You can tell Nikita is an emotional painter, she paints what she feels and at the moment she's broken, unsure on what to do. For that I blame Mila.

I've only been here for half an hour, but I can't bring myself to stay any longer, seeing your younger sister broken and painting her feelings isn't great when you can't do anything about it. I put my lights on and begin to drive off back to the mansion, preparing myself ready for the conversation I'm having with Mila.

I took the quicker route home and I was back in no time, Elias is at the entrance as soon as I walk in, his duty currently is keeping an eye on Mila while I'm gone and spying on the Mexicans and Americans when I'm around.

"Thank you, Elias you can go back to seeing what the American and Mexican plans are." He taps my shoulder and walks off with a grin on his face. Elias has been a close friend for a while now and yet his respect for me is as if he is my brother by blood.

I begin to hunt for Mila in attempt to find her, but so far, I've had no luck. I've searched the kitchen, living room, cigar room and still no sign of her, although if she was in the cigar room, I'd take her back out of there. I approach the stairs and walk up them and find Mila's bedroom door half open. I knock on the door politely and wait.

"Wait a minute." She scrambles what seems to be pieces of paper and shoves them somewhere I could only guess is under the bed. She races to the door and opens it wider with a suspicious look laced across her face.

"Up to no good?" I ask, she thinks I'm joking but I know that she's up to something, I don't trust her. "Everything's fine." She closes the door and comes out into the hallway, crossing her arms over her chest and looking up at me. Her red hair curls around the side of her face enhancing her tiny features, the freckles dotted across the apples of her cheeks and her nose, the bright blue of her orbs. I've suddenly become too distracted and cover the silence with a fake cough.

"Is everything okay?" She asks, not with concern but with curiosity. I can already see that she's trying to get under my skin, waiting for me to reveal all business information so she can go back to where she came from, I still don't believe she is working alone. "We have our engagement party tomorrow evening, there are expectations for a mob wife." I find her rolling her eyes and huffing, she already is not meeting those expectations. "They're obedient." I already know I have a smug grin on my face right now, the colour has drained from Mila's face, it's obvious Mila is the controlling type, she likes everything her way, but being married to a mobster whether it's arranged, fake or for love...She cannot be the one controlling the relationship, it's the men and I won't let anyone think I'm weak.

I get closer to Mila and bend my head closer to her ear, "You will obey me Malenkaya Lisitsa." I whisper but receive no reaction, it's usually men who can control themselves to look at Mila you'd never think she could, the innocent look on her face, the aura she gives off is as if she has never attempted to kill me. "And you will not mention our first encounter here." With the information she already knows about the mafia world she is well aware that certain information can't be shared, otherwise the men would be seen as weak and useless.

I will break Mila Orlov, no matter how long it takes me.

𝐌 𝐈 𝐋 𝐀 • 𝐎 𝐑 𝐋 𝐎 𝐕

Last night's conversation with Kristian only caused my annoyance to rise, I had to hide all my paperwork because of his sudden presence, I was just happy he didn't barge in uninvited. The engagement party was this evening and being in a room full of mafia men would only make me feel worse, not scared but angry. Why I ever introduced myself to this world I don't entirely know, maybe it is because of the grief?

I couldn't be bothered to think of the what ifs any longer, my stomach groaned with a demanding need of coffee and something to eat. I've been avoiding coming out of my room all morning, I glance at the clock which tells me it's just gone past ten o'clock. The sun is surprisingly out, but I don't let the beautiful light deceive me, it's probably freezing out there. Russian weather was unreliable, sometimes it was sunny and warm, sometimes it was snowing and the next minute it'll be raining. I hoped to escape the country possibly after killing Kristian, but that plan was nowhere near yet, but there is still the future.

Wrapping the robe around my waist I could already feel the warmth smother my body providing me with comfort. I walk down the stairs and grip onto the banister watching as Polina and Igor walk past with their hands full to the brim. "Good morning, Miss Orlov." Polina stops and smiles. I smile back and greet her with the same kindness, ever since I've snaked my way here Polina has been nothing but kind to me. And honestly, I don't really deserve it.

I'm almost shocked to see all the decorations as I walk further down the stairs, red flowers are coiled around the pillars and small tables are ready with empty flute glasses, in the mafia world engagements and weddings are such big celebrations. I walk into the kitchen and nearly bump into Polina again, she's enjoying a small cup of tea while she puts foil over the sandwiches that have probably been made earlier by Igor. For some reason I'm curious about Polina, she has a wedding band on her finger which symbolises partnership. "Who's the lucky person?" I ask not expecting a reply.

"My husband." She croaks, almost attempting not to let a tear fall.

"He was killed by the Americans, the whole of them are bad news..." She sighs, but I see the way she smiles as a new thought enters her mind. "We share a daughter though, she's lovely." Her face glows and the tears begin to dry, she hasn't cried a lot just enough for two small drops to fall from her eyes down to her chin. "How old is she?" Currently in asking way too many personal questions, if Kristian or his men where to walk in on me they'd tell me to zip it.

"Seventeen." She chuckles, "All this time she has and she's struggling to afford things for herself these days, I mean all seventeen-year-olds want the latest things, don't they?" She rhetorically asks, most young adults do want the latest...But not all, maybe Polina can't afford to provide her daughter with those luxuries.

"You know..." I begin to trail off, "She could work here, for us." She looks at me with wide eyes, almost as if I was offering a lifesaving organ. "I could pay her personally; she can help out however she wants." She sighs with her face full with doubt, what is making her debate this?

"What's wrong Polina?" I question her, trying to push her for answers. "It would be lovely Mila, but Mr Petrov won't agree to this..."

"Well, I don't care, I'm living here now as well, and now that I'm stuck having to marry him, he'll need to respect my decisions too." I release a smile before continuing, "I know the Bratva mansion isn't the place you want your daughter to be working at, but she'll be well protected I'll make sure of it." I promise.

"Really?"

"Of course." She puts down her mug and wraps her arms around me lightly, pulling me in for an embrace. She was gentle and smelt like butter and all the ingredients in those sandwiches she probably made with Igor. A sudden cough startles Polina from her affection and she flattens down her apron. "Elias." She smiles. I turn and find Elias with a buttoned-up shirt that stretches over his muscles, almost bursting the buttons. He stares at Polina and I, probably expecting an explanation of what has been spoken about.

"Polina I just wanted to let you know that I'm heading out, I wanted to grab one of those sandwiches before I left. Leonid and Maxim are here anyway and the others will be back before the afternoon." She nods her head, usually members of the mob don't explain themselves to the women especially a maid, but maybe that's because he was hinting for a sandwich.

Polina lifts the foil and Elias helps himself with a grin on his face. He stares at me and gives a small nod. He walks off but there I notice something not right when he strolls away, something that's different. His walk wasn't wobbly, but it was uneven ever so slightly, you'd have to be an observant person to notice.

"What happened to Elias?" I pry, getting too involved in other people's businesses again but before Polina could answer her face darts to behind me. "That is none of your concern." The deep accent voice days behind me, I turn and witness Kristian looking down at me with disappointment written across his face. Whether it was my concern or not there was something not right about him. I observe Kristian further, he had given himself a fresh shave and sprayed aftershave on to cover up the sweat he's been breaking in their gym.

And with that I walk away and mind my own business, I wanted to do nothing better than bite back at Kristian but that would've gotten me nowhere, I want to end this Bratva but I can't do it with an attitude.

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I didn't want to dress up for this party, but I had no choice. Everyone else was expected to dress up and so was I. Staring down at the light blue dress in the mirror soon hits me with realisation. I'm going to be a married woman. Not even to someone I want to marry, I wasn't the typical woman, I didn't want to marry and settle down, let alone plan to marry the head of the Bratva.

I find myself at the top of the stairs, holding onto the banister staring down at a pair of blue eyes which stare back at me. I attempt to release a smile, the mansion will be packed soon enough with mafia men, better make the most of it before I need to follow the rules.

Kristian has his dirty blonde locks slicked back with his eyes still holding onto mine, his hands are stuck in his trouser pockets. His tuxedo fits his body as if it was made primarily for him. But no doubt it was, he probably has people who make him personalised suits. The top under his blazer was skin tight enhancing the muscular build hidden beneath the layers.

I pull my gaze away and Kristian takes my hand into his. I look at him with shock, I didn't think we had any guests yet, but him pulling me towards him told me otherwise. "Mila, this is Cian. He is the head of the Irish mafia." He squeezes my hip gently as a small warning. I greet Cian with a smile and a handshake. The glee in his eyes when he looks at Kristian and I wasn't difficult to miss. He loved this and I'm sure other people will too. Cian had blonde hair and his three-piece suit wasn't anything interesting compared to Kristian's.

Kristian and I mingle our way through the crowds, we meet and greet various made men and their wives with false happiness on their faces, especially the American wives. They all look so miserable but they try and fake it with a smile full of lies.

Knowing Kristian, he probably knew the American mobs would turn up to wind him up, but he doesn't say anything, he tries to be polite and if my research is correct only the New York and Chicago mafia made it, the Philadelphians didn't.

The music tempo changes, forcing Kristian and eye to come together once more and dance singularly. I have both my arms wrapped around his neck while he holds his hands around my waist, I'd much rather use my arms to strangle him, but something tells me it wouldn't be a good idea to strangle him in front of hundreds of people. I'd be chased down and shot, well...by some. The Americans would probably give me a pat on the back for succeeding this time.

"What are you planning Mila?" He whispers quietly so no one else hears.

"Nothing, what makes you think I am?"

"You have that look in your eye and you're secretly chewing the bottom of your lip." I stare down, removing one hand away from Kristian's shoulder and placing it on my lips. Droplets of red coat my fingertip.

"Excuse me for one moment." I state and give him a friendly smile while I exit looking for the nearest toilets.

I attempt to get out of the crowds as quickly as I can, the party has been going on for a few hours now and I'm already exhausted. I stumble froward slightly but am kept up by strength.

Dusting myself off I didn't even get a chance to see who held me up with their hands while I was too busy thinking I was going to fall. I glance up and find a man in his forties, his brown hair already beginning to grey, but I can't help but find him familiar. The wrinkles in his face from too many cigarettes, the bags under his eyes. It all feels too familiar, but I don't have enough time, I pass him and go to the bathroom in a hurry finally ready to take a breather and clear up the red iron from my lips.