Mia Malkova Solo Novels & Stories

I winced in sympathy. Apparently he pushed it too hard instead of real good. And then Mia went up. I'll admit it—she sounded good. She wasn't like the girls on the radio, but she was trained. Practiced. Her voice held power, and she knew how to show it off. When she finished, the applause was thunderous. Even Robbie, sitting on that judges seat throne, leaned into the mic and said, "That was very good." I froze. A few contestants murmured to each other and started walking off.

Because this is the final round of selection, before the twenty girls enter the official performance, they will all have the opportunity to perform individually. Soon it was Mica's turn. A few days ago, Mica was humiliated and her vocal cords had problems, so she decided to dance a bit. As soon as the music started, she quickly performed modern dance combined with classical. Her performance received a standing ovation from the audience. Venn also suddenly noticed this girl. Although she was not very beautiful, she was pure and lovely, making people feel that this girl was very honest. Moreover, her ability is not bad, her path to becoming a star will also be smooth in the future.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” Silence fell over the room. The auctioneer paused, then smiled. “Two hundred and fifty thousand. Do I hear two-seventy-five?” No one spoke. The gavel came down with a decisive crack. “Sold. To Mr. Mikhail Volkov.” Samira’s stomach flipped. Mikhail Volkov , ruthless Russian oligarch turned tech billionaire, known for his cold precision in business and even colder dominance in private. He rose from his seat, tall and commanding, and walked toward the stage with predatory grace. When he reached her, he didn’t speak. He simply lifted her chin with two fingers and looked into her eyes, his steel-gray gaze piercing straight through her.

Malkia gestured for Mwajuma to step forward. Mwajuma moved to the center of the balcony, the heavy iron-shale armor moving flawlessly with her broad shoulders. She looked out over the sea of faces—Kesi, Nia, Binta, Chausiku—all looking up at her with absolute, unwavering trust. "Mwajuma, the Earth-Breaker," Malkia proclaimed. "Kneel." Mwajuma dropped to her right knee, the heavy stone of her gauntlet resting against the polished wood of the balcony. She bowed her head, exposing the thick, muscular column of her neck and the dark collar resting there.

“What? I don’t know how to. . . .” I trail off when Mikhail ignores what I said and pulls me to the dance floor anyway. Immediately I can tell that the whole ballroom goes silent. I can feel hundreds of eyes on me. Suddenly I have the urge to throw up, but Mikhail just grabs my face delicately with one hand as he softly touches my waist with the other. He pulls me close. Close enough that I have nowhere to look at but his eyes. Close enough that he can kiss me if he wants to. “Just look at me,” he whispers, taking my hands and putting them on his shoulders. We move to the slow tune of the harp, our bodies pressing together. “Ignore all of them. Right now, I’m the only one who’s here.”

Mia walked to the center of the hall and nodded to the women, hinting to them that she was ready. Ding! The crisp sound of the first instrument resonated across the room. Then, more than ten instruments started producing music. Mia started dancing in the center of the hall. Every move displayed her lithe body, making her look like a gorgeous butterfly. Everyone was mesmerized by her. On the contrary, David watched Mia dancing at the hall's center with his eyebrows furrowed. He could sense something wrong with his mind power. At this moment, there seemed to be a magic spell on Mia’s body that would make people unconsciously drown in her.

Skates squeaking, pucks slapping against sticks, coaches yelling chaos in motion and somewhere in the middle of it all was Ryder, looking like he owned the ice and the entire planet. And then I saw her. Malia. She was standing near the edge, clipboard in hand, hair tied back so neatly it made me feel like I’d just rolled out of bed. She had this quiet aura like someone had already figured out every single flaw in the world and had a five-step plan to fix it. She wasn’t yelling, she wasn’t overtly intimidating, but I could feel her presence across the rink. Like gravity decided she was a core and we were all satellites orbiting awkwardly.

"I'm more nervous for tonight's event," said Lyudmila, at breakfast that morning. "Why?" asked Alexey. He spooned the yellow porridge in the middle of the table and made Anastasia hit the young man's hand because it was scattered on the table. The youngest child just grinned. “I will perform solo,” answered Lyudmila. "And the main sponsor and shareholder of the Bolshoi will be there." The girl patted her cheeks to get rid of the nervous feeling. "You can imagine that?"

Silence was our enemy at the table, until Ella decided to speak up. “Finally someone who can shape Mizza. The woman thinks she owns the truth and I'm sorry, Mikhail, but your mother crosses the line every time she takes a breath and it's getting on my nerves.” Ella raised her opinion and I felt better, knowing that I'm not crazy for not thinking what she does is right. “Donna, can we talk for a minute?” Mikhail was the only one who didn't seem happy. We went out into the garden and he started saying what he wasn't happy about...

Maya’s face instantly dropped, and tossing the mobile aside, she covered her face in the pillow and cried for hours. *** Standing on the deck, wrapped in layers of warm clothes, Mishka was looking down in the water. The stars and the moon were reflecting in the water, which was calming her senses. Though she was feeling sleepy because of medicines and her eyes were closing now and then but she was not ready to miss even a minute of this beautiful night.