Page 19 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

His presence sucks the warmth out of the room, leaving behind a chilling silence. He has a way of letting you know that he’s there, but you’re definitely not worth his time.

Asshole.

I grab a cup and pour myself some coffee, the liquid dark and steamy, mirroring my mood. But I stand there in suffocating silence, hyperaware of the man who literally told me he owns my pussy last night.

Then he finally speaks, but doesn’t look up from his device.

“Now that you’re part of this family, there are rules,” he states flatly, his tone far from inviting conversation.

I can feel my body tense up at this. “Rules?”

“Yes, rules,” he puts his phone aside, his gaze finally meeting mine. “Firstly, you will be accompanied by bodyguards whenever you’re out. Security is not negotiable.”

“Is that for my safety or to keep me on a leash?” I challenge.

The asshole disregards my question and goes on. “Secondly, I am not expecting you to open your legs for me unless an heir is required,” he says, then he grins. “Last night was the only exception.”

I blanch at this and my face warms when I recall what a begging mess he made me into last night. “What about your needs? You’re a high-ranking man in the Bratva, aren’t you? Surely you have needs.”

“Needs I’ll have taken care of elsewhere if I have to,” he says nonchalantly, and I don’t know why that pisses me off. “Lastly, your social commitments need to be coordinated with my secretary. You represent the family now. Public appearances aren’t optional.”

My hands tighten around my coffee cup. “Understood, but what about my role at the Seattle Philharmonic? I just got accepted. Am I allowed to continue, or does being your wife mean giving up on who I am?”

He eyes me thoughtfully, then responds. “You may continue with your music as I have set up a music room for you here, but unfortunately, I will not be carting you back and forth from Seattle.”

Anger and disbelief burns hot in my chest at his words, another thing taken from me, but before I can process his answer, the door swings open and two burly, imposing men walk in.

“This is Alexei and Viktor. They’re your bodyguards,” Mikhail introduces, utterly detached.

“Mrs Baranova,” one of them nods, his expression as stone-cold as his boss’s.

“My meeting’s in half an hour. Keep what I said in mind,” Mikhail tosses at me as he grabs his coat and turns to walk away, leaving me standing in a daze.

But before Mikhail can walk away, I swallow deep and walk toward him. There’s no way he’s leaving here with just giving me a set of rules.

“Mikhail, wait,” I say, seeing him visibly bristle. “What about my apartment and my belongings? When can I collect them?”

He halts, barely glancing back as he answers, “There’s no need. Your things will be brought here.”

“Excuse me? You’ve literally uprooted my past life without me there?” The bite in my words doesn’t go unnoticed, but he seems indifferent.

“Your past life is irrelevant. Get used to your new one,” he says as he turns to face me, his voice a chilling blend of authority and disdain.

“You can’t just erase my past, Mikhail,” I fire back, anger lacing every syllable. “You’ve taken everything I love away from me. At least grant me this!”

“Fairness is a luxury you no longer have,” he retorts, his tone cutting like the winter wind as he turns his back on me, but I am not done with him.

“Mikhail—!”

He pins me with a glare and I immediately shut up, not because of fear but because I’ve never seen unadulterated violence in one look alone. I can push so much, but Mikhail has a body count. I have to pick my battles better.

With that, he strides out of the room, his exit as cold and unyielding as the words he left behind. Alexei and Viktor remain as stoic as ever, trained not to react to personal conversations.

Left alone in the room, each careless word, each frigid glance, is another bar in the cage he’s constructing around me.

The finality of that look sinks into my bones, adding another layer of cold to the already chilly room.

GABRIETTE

---