Maria
I'm not sure if my cousin Christian will let me leave, but he doesn't seem to want me here on my own. After Mikhail leaves with Dad and Uncle Vito, I am escorted back to my room. I don't complain. It's after midnight, so I go to bed, and in the morning, I am given clean clothes and breakfast and practically pushed out the door.
The driver is polite but barely speaks to me the entire time. When I see Rurik sitting in one of our SUVs, waiting in a parking lot by the George Washington Bridge, I practically jump out of the vehicle and run to him.
"Thank you," I smile sweetly as I fasten my seat belt.
"Maria Zakharovna." Rurik's voice is icy as he greets me.
As we pull up to their Long Island mansion, the gates open, and Rurik's men stand at attention as the vehicle goes down the dri
