Page 33 of Mile High Daddy

“Mikhail,” I say, my voice trembling, “let me go.”

But he doesn’t. Instead, he steps closer, his towering frame blocking out everything else, his presence overwhelming. His face is inches from mine, his breath warm against my cheek ashis mouth hovers just above mine. He doesn’t kiss me, but the tension crackles in the air between us, thick and suffocating.

“You can hate me all you want,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. “But that doesn’t change what we are now.”

I can’t speak, can’t move, my entire body frozen as his words sink in.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally steps back, releasing my wrist. The loss of contact feels like a jolt, and I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.

“I’ll stay in the next room,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he turns toward the door.

He pauses with his hand on the handle, glancing back at me. “Goodnight, Lila.”

And then he’s gone, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

10

MIKHAIL

Mornings at the estate are always the same—calm, orderly, suffocating. I sit at the head of the long dining table, my coffee untouched as I read through a report on my phone. The staff move in and out of the room, but I barely notice them.

I haven’t seen Lila this morning, and I doubt I will. She’s made it painfully clear she wants nothing to do with me, her pointed silences and quick exits speaking louder than any words ever could.

And maybe she’s right. Maybe staying away from her is the best thing I can do—for both of us.

“You’ve been avoiding her.” My mother steps in, as composed as always, her gaze sweeping over the room before landing on me.

She doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. She never does.

“Good morning to you too, Mother,” I say, leaning back in my chair and giving her a dry look.

She doesn’t smile. “I’m not here for idle chatter.”

“I thought you were here for breakfast, like me,” I shoot back.

She takes her seat at the far end of the table and pours herself a cup of tea, before gesturing at one of the staff to start serving her.

“Lila won’t be joining us today?”

“I don’t know,” I say, looking down at my phone.

“Fighting with your bride already, Mikhail? That’s not like you.”

I arch a brow. “You’re imagining things.” I lean back in my chair. “Is there a point to this conversation?” I ask, though I already know where it’s going.

“You know exactly why I’m here,” she says, her tone as cold as the marble floors beneath our feet. “You’ve been married for days, and yet…there’s been nothing. No consummation. No acknowledgment of the union. Are you trying to create problems for yourself?”

I grind my teeth but keep my expression neutral. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that.”

“Oh, but I do,” she says, setting her teacup down with a soft clink. “This isn’t just about you, Mikhail. It’s about the family. About our legacy. Or have you forgotten that?”

I take a slow breath, willing myself to stay calm. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then why haven’t you consummated the marriage?” she asks bluntly, her eyes narrowing. “Why haven’t you presented the blood of the virgin bride?”

Her words are like a slap across the face. I feel a surge of anger rise in me, sharp and hot.

“I don’t believe in archaic rituals,” I say.

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