Page 15 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

“I’m going to miss you so much, Jax!” I exclaim, swallowing the lump in my throat as he strokes my hair. “I don’t wanna go… I don’t want to—”

“That’s enough,” he chastises me and pushes me away gently. He places his hands on my shoulders and offers me a small smile. “You’re strong, Reginetta. If anyone can survive this, it’s you.”

I shake my head and sniff. “You always have such faith in me, but look at where that’s gotten me—”

“Gabriette,” Mikhail’s cold voice snaps behind me and I stiffen up.

With a sigh, I give Jax one last hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gabriette,” he says and I can hear the unwillingness to let me go in his voice. “Make them bow down to you even if you have to force them to kneel. You do not lower your head to anyone, not even your husband.”

I can’t help but smile at his words, then with a peck on his cheek, I give him one last lingering look, then walk away from him with my heart in my throat.

The ride to our new home, Mikhail’s penthouse, is filled with a suffocating silence as well. No words are exchanged; no glances are shared.

In a strange way, I find comfort in the quiet, as if the absence of sound reflects the large emotional distance between us. It’s a reprieve, a momentary escape from the expectations that loom large in this arranged union.

But as I think about the so-called expectations, something else occurs to me again: this is our wedding night. He demanded my hand in marriage and took it even as I screamed no, what will he do once we’re alone?

He teased me while we were dancing, but he wouldn’t really do that…right? I mean, he’s so much stronger than I am, there’s nothing I can do if he decides he wants that from me.

I’ve put the thought off the entire day, but now it’s staring me right in the face. He’s my husband now, I can’t deny him even if I wanted to.

The thought scares me more than I want to admit. I feel myself trembling as if a hand is gripping my throat and I breathe through it. Mikhail said he wouldn’t take what I don’t intend on giving. But can I really trust him like that?

No. I learned the hard way that trusting a man can have lasting consequences, and it’s left me unable to stand the touch of another person.

When the car stops in his designated underground parking, Mikhail gets out first. He holds the door open for me, but unlike before, he doesn’t offer his hand. Then more frosty silence as we walk to the elevator and when it opens to his penthouse.

The walls are adorned with art pieces that likely cost more than my entire life, but my eyes hardly linger on them. Instead, they drift to the man walking several paces ahead, absorbed in his own thoughts.

This man is infuriatingly quiet and it’s pissing me right off. He can’t even acknowledge me with more than a few words after stripping my life away.

God, I want to stab him in his annoyingly gorgeous face.

Just then, a woman appears from one of the adjoining rooms. Mikhail hands his coat to her and acknowledges her with a nod before striding off down the hall without so much as a backward glance.

Perplexed, I blink a few times, then I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

I turn to the woman who Mikhail handed his coat to. She’s dressed elegantly, a graceful figure with an air of composed authority.

“Good evening, Mrs Baranova,” she says. “I’m Nikita, your house manager. I’ve prepared your room.”

I offer her a weak smile and she nods, indicating that I should follow her.

Nikita leads me to the bedroom—a sanctuary of understated luxury, adorned in soft grays and muted golds.

My eyes drift to the walk-in closet and I go towards it, noticing Mikhail’s clothing to the right while the left is already filled with clothing that seems tailored to my exact measurements.

Right down to the damn underwear.

“When was all this delivered?” I ask, confused and a bit alarmed at the level of detail.

“This morning, ma’am,” Nikita replies.

This morning? He’s been planning every little detail right down to this? The thought unnerves me. It’s like he’s been studying me in the few hours before he came to collect me, learning how to fit me into this life like a jigsaw puzzle.

This frightens me more than I care to let on.

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