Mikhail

35 (R)

"Mikhail, I-"

I could only gape in shock at the plain building to which he was guiding me, hand held over mine and confident strides slowed to match my pace.

"He won't be killed, kukolka," he assured me, glancing over his expansive shoulder with a flooring grin, "he invited us."

My heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second, my surprise replaced with fear.

"It could be a trap," I squeezed his hand, beckoning for him not to walk into the art gallery unarmed and without his men.

Noah was my brother, but the tension between my father and I was too high for me to trust anyone other than Mikhail.

"It's common decency not to kill guests," he decided, far too calm for my liking. With a rough tug of his hand, I managed to halt the giant man.

He turned to me, unappreciative of my initiative to stand us idly on the busy sidewalk. His dark eyes searched mine, and a flutter of warmth shielded me from the cold wind.

"I don't enter buildings blindly," he reminded me, forever taunting my inability to plan.

I scoffed with a stubborn roll of my eyes, only widening the delicious grin on his inviting lips. I sidestepped Mikhail and headed toward the doors of the gallery, heart beat increasing.

Once inside, my hastened steps slowed, taking in the room full of formal guests. I wore jeans and a tee shirt, and grew uncomfortable at how underdressed I found myself.

Champagne glasses clinked, interested murmurs at the pieces of art hung on the white walls travelled through the packed space, and the door of the building closed behind us. 

"Are you happy?" hot lips trailed up my tightened neck, his deliciously low voice vibrating through me pleasurably.

My heart clenched and a smile broke over my lips. His large hands smoothed over the curves of my hips, his hard front brushing against my behind. I took his hands and wrapped them around my waist, contently resting back on him. 

Slowly and one by one, the giant man holding me garnered the attention away from the art, and the murmurs quietened. Unfazed, his lips pressed against the underside of my jaw, wiping away each and every thought and concern. 

"Natasha!" A bright smile shone, awkwardly stumbling past the mass of people. 

"Noah," I exhaled, my smile widening. 

My brother crashed into me, enveloping me in his arms. Mikhail's arms slid away, but his hand settled on my lower back, the pads of his fingers trailing over my behind comfortingly. The heat of his impressive frame moved to my side.

"I've missed you," I murmured solemnly against Noah's chest, hugging him to me tightly. I swallowed down the emotions threatening to rise, not having known when, if ever, I'd see him again. 

"I'm so sorry you're caught up in all of this," he frowned, pulling back enough for his eyes to find mine, "dad is being stubborn, but I'm trying to talk to him, and-"

His focus shifted to Mikhail, silently positioned beside me. My brother cleared his throat and straightened his stance, amusingly toughening up.

"Mikhail," he greeted, tone suddenly lower and firmer. 

"Noah."

They watched one another for a moment that grew uncomfortable, until to all our surprise, Mikhail extended his arm. Noah visibly relaxed, quick to shake his hand enthusiastically.

"Thank you," he offered the dangerous man a genuine smile, to which he replied with a simple nod, "for agreeing to this."

Before I could speak, inquire about our father's plans and request to see the landscapes Noah had invited Mikhail to bring him and myself to see, a familiar woman arrived by us, her smile brighter than my brothers.