Page 46 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

I raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “Really? Or just keeping an eye on me?”

He chuckles, the sound deep and genuine. “Can’t it be both?” His gaze holds mine, the intensity in his eyes making my heart race.

Taking a deep breath, I attempt to regain my composure. “Just promise me you’ll wear sweatpants more often,” I tease, trying to lighten the moment, but then I realize how that sounded because … well…

That outline is glorious, my God.

His laughter fills the kitchen again, the sound warm and inviting. “Only if you promise to play your cello for me again,” he counters, a playful glint in his eye.

The sudden shift in topic makes my heart skip a beat, memories of last night flooding back. “That,” I reply cautiously, “can be arranged.”

Our eyes lock, the silence between us thick with unspoken words and lingering tension from last night.

His gaze deepens, drawing me in. “Are you okay, Gabriette?” he asks again, more earnestly this time.

I nod slowly, the weight of last night’s emotions still heavy on my heart. “Yes, I’m okay. Thanks to you.” I repeat, emphasizing the last part. It feels important that he knows just how much his presence meant to me.

For a moment, we just stand there, two people caught in the ebb and flow of emotions, both aware that something has shifted between us. But neither of us is ready to address it just yet.

MIKHAIL

The sun casts golden stripes across the wooden floors of my office and I find myself lost in thought.

Gabriette this morning—she looked different. Softer, more relaxed. And it’s fucking with my head more than I anticipated. It’s as if a layer of her defenses had fallen away around me.

Her relaxed posture, the way her robe clung to her just so, revealing and concealing at the same time. She looked... peaceful.

There was none of the guarded tension in her eyes that I’d grown used to. That shift, while subtle, was profound, and it unsettled me more than I cared to fucking admit.

It felt like I was seeing her for the first time. A woman at ease, unburdened, and yet still carrying an indescribable depth in her gaze.

Could she really be letting her guard down around me? And if she is, why does it feel like a victory and a threat all at once?

Distracted, I rub the bridge of my nose, trying to push away the burgeoning headache. Just as the silence of my thoughts becomes deafening, it’s interrupted by the haunting sound of a cello.

Every string pulled, every note played, it’s undeniably her. I’ve always been a man of control, but lately, around her, that control seems to slip.

I’m on my feet before I realize it, drawn like a moth to a flame. As I approach her music room, the melodies grow louder, more insistent. Pausing at the doorway, I lean against the frame, allowing the music to envelop me.

There she is, her fingers dancing over the strings, her face a canvas of concentration and emotion.

And for a brief, surreal moment, the hauntingly beautiful melodies of my great-grandmother Amaranthe’s music intertwine with Gabriette’s, merging past and present, memory and reality.

As the final note hangs in the air, she looks up, and our eyes meet. Her soft smile hits me like a tidal wave, and for a moment, I’m lost.

How is it that a mere smile from this woman can make me feel like I’ve been gut-punched? The intensity of this unspoken connection leaves me both elated and terrified.

Without another word, she dives into another melody, and I literally have to pull myself away from her to get on with my own business.

The day’s warmth rolls into the evening all too soon. Dinner feels both casual and charged as we sit across from each other. It’s as if there’s a magnetic field between us.

“So,” I begin, taking a sip of my wine and looking for an opening, “tell me about your life, Gabriette.”

She takes a deep breath and meets my gaze, hesitation evident in her eyes. “Well,” she starts slowly, her fingers playing with the stem of her glass, “I wasn’t exactly... ordinary.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

A small smile plays on her lips, tinged with a hint of sadness. “Sophia and I were close in age, but not as close in bond as I would have liked. Our upbringing, the environment... it made us wary, made us grow up too quickly.”

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