Page 68 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

My eyes brighten at the mention of Mikhail’s birthday, grateful for a subject change and something different to focus on. “I love that idea. Count me in.”

Natalya grins, looking relieved and perhaps a bit conspiratorial. “Excellent. I’ll send you details later. We’re giving you the most crucial element to hide. Trust me, if anyone can keep a secret from my brother, it’s you.”

I chuckle, appreciating the compliment even as the irony of it hits me, given the newly minted secrets I’m already hiding. “Any hints on what this ‘crucial element’ is?”

She leans in closer, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Let’s just say it’s something he’s wanted for a long time but never indulges in. He’s going to be floored.”

“Intriguing,” I replied, my curiosity piqued. The thought of planning something special for Mikhail lightens the heavy mood that’s been clinging to me, if only a little. “I look forward to being your co-conspirator.”

“Perfect,” Natalya says, raising her glass in a toast. “To actually surprising Mikhail for once in our lives.”

We clink our glasses together, and for a moment, the complications of the evening fade away, replaced by the simple joy of planning a celebration for someone we both care deeply about.

Yet even as we laugh and dive back into the social whirlpool of the gala, I can’t entirely shake the shadows that have gathered around me. Damien’s sudden appearance, Mikhail’s growing list of enemies, the unsolved mystery of Sophia’s death—each forms a dark undercurrent that pulls at me, threatening to drag me under.

But right now, I have a birthday party to plan, and perhaps, in the light of that happier occasion, some of these shadows will finally be banished.

So, with renewed resolve, I let myself be carried away by the evening, all while holding tightly to the plans for Mikhail’s surprise. In a life riddled with uncertainties, it’s a glimmer of something good, and right now, that’s more than enough.

MIKHAIL

I’m seated at an upscale restaurant with Liadan and Lorenzo, the dim lighting casting shadows on the fine china and cutlery. Despite the serious matters that usually occupy my mind, being around Liadan usually puts me at ease. She’s family in every way that counts.

Her loyalties are split like mine, torn between the Irish and Italian mobs, but she’s managed to navigate those treacherous waters with a finesse that I admire. In my line of business, sentimentality can be a luxury, but tonight, it feels warranted.

“So, you’re officially taking the reins soon, huh?” I say to Lorenzo, swirling a glass of red wine. “Big shoes to fill, cousin.”

Lorenzo smirks, exuding the confidence that’s propelled him through the ranks. “If there’s one thing the Vittoris know how to do, it’s lead. You should know that by now.”

Lee chimes in, “Oh, please. The only thing the Vittoris are better at than leading is boasting.”

“You’re one to talk,” I say, raising my glass toward her. “Heard you’ve been globetrotting and telling everyone who will listen. Expanding your empire?”

“Someone has to keep the family on its toes,” she replies, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

We sit, and the waiters spring into action, pouring wine and presenting the menu, a rehearsed ballet of discretion and efficiency. Lorenzo leans back, swirling his glass of wine thoughtfully.

“So, how’s life treating you, Mikhail? How’s it feel being called Pakhan?” he inquires with humor in his tone.

“You know me, always trying to be a pillar of the community,” I retort. We laugh, a genuine, unguarded moment among friends. I look down at the weight on my ring finger, thinking about how things went from 0 to 100 overnight in all aspects of my life.

Growing close to Gabriette, my ascension as Pakhan and now these doubts. Why the fuck can’t I just be happy without all the other added shit?

Our banter flows naturally, easing into discussions of past adventures, old friends, and even older enemies. It’s almost easy to forget the web of intrigue and violence that follows us on a daily basis. Almost.

Liadan laughs, a sound that’s both elegant and deadly, much like her. “Remember that time in Dublin, Mischa? When we had to scale that bloody fence?”

I chuckle. “I remember tearing my coat on that damn thing. You still owe me.”

“Oh, a coat is a small price to pay for a night you’d never forget,” she retorts, her eyes twinkling.

Lorenzo raises his glass. “To unforgettable nights, then.”

Our glasses clink in unison. We all share a laugh, reminiscing about old times, when things were simpler, when the lines between friend and enemy were easier to draw. My phone vibrates in my pocket, an intrusion I’d usually ignore, but something tells me to check.

Maybe it’s the fact that Gabriette and I have barely seen each other lately, living in the same house yet somehow just missing each other. So, I pull it out.

And then my world narrows to the image on the screen.

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