Page 8 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

Mikhail blanches at my words, the look on his face telling me he’s never had anyone, much less a woman, tell him no.

“I already told you what happens if you say no—”

“And you also told me you need me as a wife, more specifically, a Lombardi woman,” I say, crossing my arms. “And since I’m the only Lombardi woman left, you can’t throw around idle threats. You’re the one who needs me, Baranov.”

My mind races, trying to find a way out, but my options are as dim as the room I’m standing in.

I look at Mikhail as he walks over to me, this man who thinks he can own me, and feel a white-hot surge of rage.

He backs me up against the wall and goosebumps pucker all over my skin at the proximity. Then he let out an amused chuckle.

“Oh, it’s going to be fun breaking you, Gabriette,” he says, taking my chin in his hand and a sliver of revulsion shoots through me. “This smart mouth of yours would look exquisite wrapped around my cock.”

Breaking me? I’ve been broken before and I’m still here. Who the hell does he think he is? “I’d rather die than be your wife—”

“Don’t be melodramatic. You’ll marry me, or else the people you care about will pay the price; more specifically, your mother or perhaps your two friends, Emma and Lucy, is it? I don’t think you want that on your conscience, do you?”

“You’re a fucking monster! I never asked for this!” I exclaim, trying to push him away, but the smirk on his face tells me he’s relishing in my discomfort.

Mikhail leans in closer, his face inches from mine. “You misunderstand me,Malyshka. This was never about what you wanted or asked for. This is about duty, about legacy. Your sister understood that; she just didn’t have the stomach to follow through.”

The audacity of him, blaming my sister for not wanting to be a part of this madness. It’s too much. “Well, maybe her stomach was smarter than you give it credit for.”

He grins, a predatory smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps. But you’re not your sister. You have a choice to make.”

I look at him, staring into those cold eyes. A choice? No, it’s coercion at its vilest. The room feels heavy, each word he utters adding weight to the air.

He seems certain, resolute, like a wall I can’t break through. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.

“My choice is to have nothing to do with you or this underworld nightmare you’re part of,” I state unequivocally.

“Then you condemn your family and friends to suffer the consequences of a broken promise,” he says flatly. “Is your freedom worth their lives?”

I take a shaky breath. He’s cornered me and he knows it. “Is forcing someone into a life they don’t want what you call keeping a promise?”

Mikhail raises an eyebrow, and for the first time, I sense a crack in his composed facade. “Life rarely gives us what we want. We play the hand we’re dealt.”

“Well, I’m reshuffling the deck,” I reply with fake confidence, hoping I look as strong as I feel.

Then he chuckles, and it’s a dark sound, devoid of joy. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

“Should I be?” I challenge, locking eyes with him.

“Most people are,” he says, with no hint of emotion in his voice. “You’d do well to remember that.”

“Most people don’t know how to fight back,” I say, my voice wavering. “You might control a lot of things, Mikhail, but you don’t control me. You can’t just force me into this!”

The hand that was on my chin now slides to my neck, where he wraps it around my throat and gently squeezes. “You’d be surprised what I can do,Malyshka.”

Terror and anger wage a war inside me and I’m not sure which side to lean in to. This hand at my throat could easily snap the life out of me, but I know it won’t. He needs me, even if I have to be dragged to the altar.

“Since threats seem to be your forte, know that once that ring slips on my finger, I am going to make your life a living hell,” I say through gritted teeth. “You better sleep with one eye open, Baranov.”

He chuckles at this and as he presses against me; I swear I can feel his cock harden. The hand at my throat tightens, but I don’t allow myself to look away from him. He won’t get the satisfaction of my fear.

“Oh, you’ve just given me more incentive to break you, wife,” he says with a grin, leaning close to my ear. “I’ll have you purring like a kitten even while you show me your claws.”

I chuckle mirthlessly. “I’m not your wife yet, and you will never get the satisfaction of breaking me.”

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