Page 66 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

“What’s this?” he asks, stroking something on the back of my neck. “Looks like a bruise.”

“Oh?” I say and walk over to the mirror, trying to see whatever he’s pointing to. “Huh, I don’t see anything. Maybe you bit me too hard.”

I smile as I say this and turn to look at him again, but his gaze has dropped to my legs. Frowning, I walk over to him and wave a hand in front of his face.

“Mikhail?”

He seems to snap out of his thoughts and turns his eyes back on me, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he says, then he turns back and continues to get ready.

I find this extremely odd, but continue to get ready while feeling an icy indifference from him. Why did he look at my knees like that? They’re slightly carpet burnt from lugging around music equipment in the studio practice with the string quartet for tomorrow night.

My eyes widened. Wait—

“Mischa,” I say and walk toward him, pulling him back while feeling pissed off. “Tell me what’s going through your mind right now and don’t lie to me.”

He’s looking at the ceiling when he breathes out a sigh, then peers down at me. “My insecurities got the best of me, but I pushed them back,” he says, shaking his head. “I trust you, Gabriette, but let me deal with my toxic inner thoughts.”

“Toxic inner thoughts? You saw carpet burn on my knees and a bruise at the back of my neck and your thoughts automatically went to the worst place—”

“When you’ve been walking around with a fucking knife in your back for ten years, you would see betrayal in everything too,” he growls, and my heart drops.

But before he can elaborate further, he storms out of the room and I can do nothing but stare at the space where he just stood.

He didn’t have to say it in so many words, but I think I get it now.

GABRIETTE

Iwake up, my head still spinning from the emotional whirlpool of yesterday’s conversation with Mikhail. The bed is empty, and I know he came in late and left early. We’re right back where we started.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand—Natalya reminding me of the dinner gala tonight. Ah, yes, the place where we all put on masks and pretend everything’s perfect.

Later on, I stand in the emptiness of the closet, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air like an afterthought. His words carve themselves into my mind, searing and impossible to shake off. A knife in his back for ten years? Betrayal, insecurities... What happened to Mikhail?

And why is it bleeding over into our marriage?

I get ready, a black gown hugging my curves, contrasting against my pale skin. I add a bold red lip and just enough makeup to highlight, but not overshadow. A last glance in the mirror and my eyes fall on my neck.

Is there a bruise there? I touch the skin lightly, remembering how he touched it, wondering what had triggered his inner demons. With a wan smile, I walk out of the bedroom and hope enough champagne will cheer me up.

* * *

The dinner gala is a storm of satin and glittering gems; men and women from various circles pretending to like each other. Max and Leandro, my newly assigned security, floated like professional shadows behind me, along with Alexei and Viktor somewhere in the room.

But Mikhail’s absence is like a missing tooth, the space filled but the void still evident.

Natalya meets me at the entrance, dressed in a gown that screams sophistication and a touch of rebellion.

“You look gorgeous,” she says, her eyes alight with its usual mischief.

“You too,” I reply, lightly embracing her and offering air kisses.

We make small talk with people whose names I forget as soon as they walk away. I keep one eye on the door, but Mikhail won’t walk in. He’s a ghost tonight, felt but not seen.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” Natalya says, interrupting my wayward thoughts.

“Of course.”

She guides me to a secluded corner, a safe haven in the sea of gossips and social climbers.

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