Page 53 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

“She’s not Dasha,”

A sigh comes through the speaker, one of both relief and pride. “Mikhail, when are you going to stop running from what you’re destined to be? You can’t keep pushing back your ascension. It’s time,” he finally says, his voice a mix of stern command and something softer, perhaps understanding.

I’ve been holding off, not wanting her pulled into this life, this darkness, not unless I’m sure she can handle it. And maybe I was also afraid, afraid that claiming the role of Pakhan would make it real that I’m not the man she needs or wants.

But I’m done hiding—in all aspects of my life.

“I had my reasons for delaying, Pappa. You know that,” I defend myself, my thoughts drifting back to Gabriette. Everything about her that’s cracked my exterior, making me question and desire things I never thought possible.

“A Pakhan is only as strong as the queen beside him, Mikhail,” his voice softens, laden with the wisdom of a man who’s lived through highs and lows most could never imagine. “It’s time you fully embrace who you are and what you’re meant to be.”

I think of Gabriette, her eyes shining, her skin glowing in the morning light. The way she looked at me when I brought her breakfast in bed, like I’d given her the fucking world, when all I’d been trying to do was repay a fraction of what she’d given me.

Hearing him say it out loud hits me like a punch to the gut. He’s right, and I’ve known it for a while now.

“I know and I’m ready,” I confess, feeling both the weight and relief of my admission. “Let’s do it. Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night, then,” he says, and I can already picture his proud smile before we hang up.

I’m left there, staring at the empty screen, my mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. But for the first time, the path ahead seems clear.

Tomorrow night, I will become Pakhan. But tonight, I’ll be Mikhail—the man irrevocably, unapologetically in love with a woman who has turned his world upside down.

I grip the edge of the desk, taking a steadying breath. It’s time to stop running—from my responsibilities, from my past, and most of all, from love.

I rise from my chair, stretch out my arms, and crack my knuckles. Enough of this fucking musing. I have a Bratva to lead and a woman to win over—completely, unequivocally.

As I head for the door, I can’t help but smile when I hear the sounds of her cello weaving through the air. It lures me out and I follow the notes without even realizing I’m heading right to her music room.

She’s seated with her back to the door, her head tilted up as if she’s lost in the world her music creates. A world where pain and beauty coalesce into something that feels almost magical. Wearing a silk night robe, its soft fabric clinging to her curves in a way that makes it hard to breathe and her hair falls in loose waves down her back.

I lean against the doorway, captivated. The cello’s strings vibrate under her skilled fingers, each note piercing the air like an arrow, as if it could penetrate the very core of anyone who listens.

I make my way to her silently, but she doesn’t even notice when I’m right behind her. Leaning down to kiss her neck, she hums in approval … then I notice, with the way her robe falls open, that she’s completely naked underneath.

Taking advantage of this, I slip my arms around her waist and trail my fingers down her taut belly. I nip at her neck and her notes falter when I cup her pussy.

“Keep playing,Malyshka,” I murmured in her ear as I slipped a finger through her slick heat. “Focus on the music.”

She sucks in a breath and moans when I start to tease her clit, encircling the bundle of nerves with the pad of my forefinger. I feather light kisses on her neck, nipping at random spots and grazing my teeth over her sensitive skin.

“One wrong note and I stop,” I tease, pinching her clit, then applying pressure as I work it again, doing this in tandem while she gasps. Since last night, her body has become so easy to read.

When her body tenses up, I know she’s close to her orgasm, so I lean in close and whisper, “Play your sweet music for me, Gabriette.”

Then she comes apart for me, and I love every second of it because her notes don’t even fucking falter.

As I stand there behind her, listening to her shallow breaths, it becomes painfully clear. No more running. No more doubts. Gabriette has come to be the melody that fills the once-empty spaces in my heart, and I’ll be damned if I let that song end now.

MIKHAIL

My chest feels lighter than it has in years, a sense of peace settling over me as Gabriette rests her head against it.

My fingers lightly trace circles on her back, relishing the warmth of her skin against mine. For this stolen slice of time, the looming responsibilities of my ascension and the damned politics of the Bratva world fade into insignificance.

I look down at her, her eyes meeting mine, and I feel something crack open inside me. And then she smiles. That goddamn beautiful smile that makes my heart skip a beat. It’s simple, unguarded, and completely breathtaking.

“Hey,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine. The walls I’ve spent years constructing crumble under the weight of her gaze.

---