Page 14 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I retort. “I get what I want, and right now, that’s this marriage.”

“Must be so proud,” she fires back, her voice sharp as a knife. “Big Russian mobster threatening his wife with rape.”

I’ve never had someone speak to me with such disrespect before; it’s disarming. She’s got a fucking mouth on her. It’s both maddening and alluring.

“Rape?” I spit out the word and see her flinching.

She trembles, but those defiant eyes lock onto mine. “That’s what will happen when I don’t give in tonight, right? You’ll rape me?”

“Didn’t I just fucking say I won’t take what you aren’t willing to give?” I ask, the words coated in a frosty indifference designed to provoke her.

She hesitates, and for a split second, I see a crack in her composed façade. “Stop contradicting yourself, Mikhail—”

“Blyad’” I grit out, pinning her with a glare. “Yes, we’ll fuck tonight, but I won’t rape you. Christ.”

She stiffens up at the coldness in my tone, but only for a second before she sighs. “Don’t mistake my obedience for compliance. I may be in a gilded cage, but remember, caged birds still have claws.”

I let out a soft, cold chuckle. “It sounds like you’re warning me.”

“Maybe I am,” she counters.

“And what if I told you that I like challenges, that a bird’s claws make it more interesting to tame? By the way, you look beautiful in that dress.”

Her eyes flare with a mix of anger and uncertainty, and I feel a sudden, inexplicable sense of triumph. I’ve rattled her with that comment, if only for a moment.

She won’t break; I can see it in her eyes. I catch myself wondering what that fire could do, given the right circumstances.

As the dance comes to an end, the guests around us erupt into applause and I release her from my arms, almost regretfully.

I walk behind her, listening to the measured click of her heels against the marble floor and lost in thought about what her resistance could imply.

She is a means to an end—a path to solidifying my position as Pakhan, a mere part of a transaction. She can’t mean anything to me; I won’t allow it.

Yet that defiant glint in her eyes tells me she’s not someone who can be easily controlled or understood.

I’ve married a force to be reckoned with. And whether I want to admit it or not, part of me is looking forward to the challenge.

I just can’t afford to lose myself in this curiosity and risk a repeat of what happened ten years ago.

GABRIETTE

The clinking of glasses and polite laughter fill the grand reception hall, but it all seems miles away to me. I glance over at Mikhail, who’s talking to some business associate or another.

His face is a portrait of composure, unreadable, but there’s a chill in his eyes that doesn’t go unnoticed. Those mismatched eyes that tend to unnerve me whenever they land on me.

We haven’t exchanged more than a handful of sentences since our “I dos,” and when we do, we argue. But each moment of his silence feels like a blade of ice against my skin.

A silence that says more than words ever could: I am an afterthought, a piece of a transaction, an accessory to his ambitions.

Then there’s his taunting; like he wants to get a rise out of me and it’s infuriating.

The music fades and the clamor of conversations grows dimmer as the reception winds down. A cold emptiness settles over me as I catch Mikhail’s gaze from across the room.

He nods once, a perfunctory acknowledgment, and then he’s gone. His icy indifference chills me to the bone, and I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I’ve just stepped into a lion’s den.

When it’s time for us to go, I hear a familiar voice behind me and my heart drops. I turn to see Jax standing behind me with a sad look on his face and my heart drops. I pull my hand out of Mikhail’s grasp and rush into the arms of the only man who has felt like family.

“Reginetta,” he murmurs, holding me close while I try to push the tears away. He’s been the only constant in my life, the only one I felt I could trust and now I’ll never see him again.

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