Page 31 of Tainted Empire

His apology washes over me, leaving me feeling both vulnerable and touched. His regret is palpable, and it tugs at something deep inside me.

“It wasn’t just you,” I replied softly, my own voice laced with emotion. “We both were caught in a storm we didn’t see coming.”

He nods, a shadow of pain crossing his features. “I know, but I still feel responsible. Especially about the baby... Can you tell me what happened? What the doctor said?”

As I recount the doctor’s words, explaining the miscarriage, I notice the guilt etching deeper into his eyes. It’s clear he’s blaming himself, carrying the weight of our loss as his burden.

“I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most,” he says, the guilt in his voice unmistakable.

“Mikhail, it’s not your fault,” I say softly, caressing his hand in return. “The doctor said it happens sometimes, especially under stress. It wasn’t because of you.”

But the guilt in his eyes doesn’t waver, and I realize just how deeply he’s internalized the pain of our loss. In this moment, I see a different side of Mikhail - vulnerable, repentant, and profoundly affected by the events that tore us apart.

“I put you under that stress, Gabriette, and nothing I say will ever be able to make up for what I’ve done,” he looks at me, his eyes searching mine for a truth he seems desperate to find.

“I just wish I could have been there, to support you, to be the husband you needed,” he sighs, shaking his head. “To be the man that you needed.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you? So am I,” I remind him. “We’re here, taking it slow and working on our love instead of giving up. If I didn’t want this, I would have said no, Mischa.”

Mikhail’s expression softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable—a side of him I’ve only glimpsed a few times.

“You’re right, we’re here, and fuck, I’m grateful for it,” he says, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it. “For you, for this second chance.”

I can see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between the hardened man he’s had to be and the man he wants to be for me. It’s a side of him that’s rarely seen, hidden beneath layers of stoicism and control.

He leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve been a fucking idiot, blind to what really matters. You’ve always been both my weakness and my strength, and I pushed you away when I should’ve been pulling you closer.”

The honesty in his words strikes a chord in me. “Mischa, it’s not just about pulling me closer. It’s about us finding a balance, a way to be together without losing ourselves.”

He nods, understanding flashing in his eyes. “Yeah, a balance. I’ve never been good at that shit, but for you, I’ll try. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

There’s a determination in his voice, a promise of effort and change. It’s a side of Mikhail I’ve always known was there, buried under the weight of his responsibilities and the scars of his past.

“We’ve both made mistakes,” I say, caressing the top of his hand with my thumb. “But we’re learning from them. That’s what matters.”

Mikhail’s hand turns under mine, his fingers intertwined with mine. “Learning and growing, together. That’s what I want, Malyshka. You and me, against whatever the fuck life throws at us.”

His words are laced with his typical blend of roughness and sincerity, a combination that’s uniquely Mikhail. It’s what drew me to him in the first place, and what keeps me here now.

“By the way, my father said something to me on the night of your solo,” he says with a proud smile on his face. “He said you play like Amaranthe.”

My heart lurches and my free hand goes to my chest. “He… he said that?”

He chuckles and nods his head. “I believe those were his exact words. You brought tears to his eyes, Malyshka, that’s how powerful your playing was,” he says, then he kisses my hand again. “You were always meant to be a Baranova.”

His words make my already overfilled heart close to bursting and I am honestly incredibly speechless. The fact that his father said something like that… Gosh, it’s the biggest compliment I could ever receive.

As the conversation continues, I feel a sense of connection rekindling between us. It’s fragile, like a delicate flame that needs careful tending, but it’s there - a sign that maybe, just maybe, we can find our way back to a place of love and trust.

By the time we finish our dinner, the initial awkwardness has given way to a more comfortable rapport. It’s not the same as it used to be; there’s a newfound maturity to our interaction, a recognition of the pain we’ve both endured and the effort it will take to heal.

As we leave the restaurant, the night air wraps around us, a cool contrast to the warmth that’s been rekindled between us. Mikhail leads me to the sleek black Phantom parked at the curb, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back—a familiar, comforting presence.

The ride back to the safe house is a quiet one, with only the soft hum of the car and occasional glances exchanged between Mikhail and me filling the space.

Alexei, ever the professional, focuses on the road, giving us the privacy we need in the backseat. I can feel the tension radiating off Mikhail; it’s a mixture of restraint and a deep-seated longing.

When we arrive at the safe house, the car comes to a smooth stop. Mikhail exits first and walks around to open the door for me. His touch is gentle, respectful, and it sends a familiar thrill through me. We walk to the front door in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

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