Mikhail

17

I stood before my mother's tombstone, digging my foot in to the gravel path surrounding it.

A cold breeze blew over us and I stuck my hands in to the pockets of my coat.

Today marked the fifth year since her passing, and the pain of it had only turned into blazing fury within me, forever unwilling to speak my thoughts and feelings aloud in order to gain any type of closure.

Anger was easier than tears, grief and guilt. It made me deadly.

I had nothing to lose on my mission to rid the world of everyone who could indirectly be held accountable for her murder.

God could have all the mercy at his reach for the men I was after, because I wouldn't have any.

"I've met Anna," my father broke the silence between us, standing by my side.

"Oh?"

"She's... interesting," he decided, "but a good fit for your brother."

"A sex therapist," I reminded myself with a light grin, "what wonders she must do to him."

"Natasha," he scolded with a chuckle, but added, "her art is..." Sexual.

"I know."

"And Noah's is..." Fruits.

"I know," I grinned and nudged him gently, "interesting couple."

He mused, "I think they'll be very happy together."

I agreed.

Her name sounded almost distant in my mind now, as I read it over and over again from the polished slab of stone. I remembered her voice, her touch and her face, but her name was escaping me. It was beginning to grow unfamiliar.

"His choice to be with her leads me to you," he cleared his throat and shifted on his feet, "I'll announce this publicly during my birthday celebration next month."

"Announce what?" I pressed, interest perking at the direction in which this was headed.

I shouldn't get my hopes up.

"Our friends, partners and allies will be there," my father continued, and my gaze finally dragged itself to the side of his face, "it'll be the perfect time to announce you as the heir to our family."

My eyes bulged out of my head, unbothered to blink away the tears building up in them.

My heart pounded against my chest at his words, ones which I had longed to hear for years now. Something I had insisted was logically the right choice, but he had always been against it. Until now.

If only Noah was here, I'd hug him. Anna, too.

Instead, I closed the space between my father and I and wrapped my arms around his torso in a tight squeeze, the side of my head pressing against his chest. He tensed, but hesitantly raised his arms to my back. I smiled at our alikeness and discomfort at any show of emotion.

"I still see you as the little girl who overwaters plants because she doesn't know when to stop giving," he murmured, the serenity in his voice calming me.

"People change."

"You may not be a fragile flower after everything, but you are as fragile as a bomb," he chuckled to himself, and I pulled back from the hug to meet his teary eyes, "and you are soft. You feel, and you feel deeply. I know I've been critical of your judgement, as from my experience feelings are the end for many of us. For you, they carry you forward. Never stop feeling, Natalia."

My smile softened and I took his hand in to mine lovingly.

Despite often butting our heads, I knew he understood me, and his only motivation was to keep me safe. For him to trust me with the future of our family and business was the greatest honour, even in light of the recent mishaps during missions.

"Thank you, dad," the gentle squeeze I gave his hand was the only way I could comfortably convey my feelings at this moment.

He straightened his posture and cleared his throat once more, this show of emotion quite enough for him. My smile only widened.

"Well, then," he decided, "it's settled."

--

"My munchkin."

I watched the two cuddle in the corner of the room, unable to focus on my phone with the horrifying sounds leaving them.

"I could just eat you up," Anna giggled, snuggling her face in to my brother's chest. I cringed.

"Oh, please do-"

"No!" I interjected abruptly, not wanting to hear the rest of his suggestive reply, "absolutely not."

Both looked over at me, and my scowl only seemed to amuse them.

"I will not allow the sanctity of my home to be broken by," I searched for a term to describe their obsession with one another but found none, "whatever you two are doing."

Noah's lips tugged up with a knowing grin and he turned to the woman comfortably perched on his lap. He bit at the air in front of her, and she erupted in to more giggles.

I sighed out deeply and rolled my eyes. Despite not showing it, I did feel happy for the two of them.

They had joined us for dinner, and it had been surprisingly normal. If, of course, Anna's stories of her craziest clients and their sex lives were ignored.

"Sexuality is a beautiful part of being human, Natalia," she offered me a reassuring smile, "it isn't anything to be ashamed of."

"I'm not," I insisted, "I simply disapprove of voyeurism and orgies in the living room."

She laughed lightly, her carefree attitude something I greatly envied.

I moved back to scroll down my Instagram, trying to block out their quietening whispers.

After a moment she excused herself, leaving Noah and I alone.

I placed my phone down on to my lap and curiously looked over at him. "What's next for you, then?"

He rested back in the armchair with a content smile, "I'm going to propose."

My brows raised with surprise, "oh."

He chuckled and nodded, "yes. I haven't decided on when, but I've asked father for our mother's ring."

My throat constricted on itself, just the thought of something so precious being handed away feeling like a crime. But Anna wasn't a stranger and she wouldn't take the ring from us. She would only wear it, as part of our family.

"What did he say?" I dared inquire, tone unsure, "did he give it to you?"

"He supports it," Noah informed me carefully, sensing my hesitation, "and yes, he's given it to me. I won't let anything happen to it, don't worry."

"Good."

His smile widened, unfazed by my discomfort as I continued to stare at him.

"Congratulations," I ended the short silence, a grin tugging up the side of my lips, "she'll say yes, I'm sure of it."

"I hope," he breathed out, smile softening, "we've already looked at homes in the country. It wouldn't be far from here, but far enough for us to live relatively privately."

I gave him a simple nod, thoughts of my mother summoned by the mention of her ring.

"I miss her," I confided in him, "I've always hated that you got to spend more time with her."

"It's not about the amount of time-" Noah blinked slowly.

It wasn't often that I spoke about these feelings, but when I did, it was always and only to him.

"But it feels like it, sometimes," I cut off his attempt to ease the frown etching over my features, "do you think she'd be proud of us?"

I hated the vulnerable words the moment they had left my lips, and muttered to myself underneath my breath.

My brother only chuckled lightly, "definitely. You'll be the first woman to run a mafia and I've just started to paint landscapes."

I laughed and grabbed a pillow to throw at him.