Page 51 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

And here is a man who, despite everything, makes me feel seen, makes me feel safe. His touch doesn’t send a ripple of dread through me. If anything, it’s comforting, grounding, as if telling me that for once, it’s okay to let my guard down.

He shifts slightly, pulling me closer to him in his sleep, and my heart does a foolish little dance. How can someone be both my sanctuary and the storm that threatens to obliterate me?

I remember the feel of his arms around me, strong but gentle. Those arms could break a man in two, yet they held me as if I were something fragile, something cherished. I’ve never had that—not since before … before that night that wrecked me and left me with scars that go far deeper than the skin.

I thought my skin would always crawl at a man’s touch, a remnant of a past I’d rather forget. But Mikhail’s touch is different. He doesn’t make my skin crawl; he makes it come alive. Is my body telling me to trust him, or is it just another illusion?

So here I am, staring at the ceiling, questioning my own sanity because, for a brief moment, a foolish moment, I imagined us together—actually together—beyond the constraints of this arranged marriage.

My fingers graze over his hand that’s resting on my hip. The same hand that has pulled triggers, slit throats and clenched fists was so gentle with me. I’m not naïve; I know who Mikhail is, what he’s capable of.

But last night, there was a tenderness in his actions, a subtle shift in the timbre of his voice, that told me he too was affected by whatever is happening between us. And just like that, another chip in my emotional armor falls away.

God, is this how it starts? This quiet erosion of rational thought, this forgetting of all the reasons we should never be anything more than what we are?

Mikhail isn’t the man you fall in love with; he’s the man you make pacts with, possibly the man you sell your soul to. But love? Love has no place in the barter.

GABRIETTE

Iopen my eyes to sunlight streaming through the open windows of the bedroom, noticing the drapes are wide open. Did I close them last night?

Yawning, I stretch out and a dull ache presses down between my legs … then everything comes flooding back to me.

My eyes snap to the empty space next to me, and my heart sinks further — Mikhail left without even waking me up or saying goodbye? Didn’t he say we won’t be going back to how it was before? That he was done playing games and ignoring what was happening between us?

I sigh and swing my legs out of bed, ignoring the despondency as it settles in my heart as well as the ache in my nether regions. Last night must have just been a way for Mikhail to break through my defenses and now look at me — heartbroken and thoroughly fucked in both senses.

After I’m done in the bathroom, I get into a steaming shower while trying to erase my messed up emotions. But as soon as I step out of the bathroom, I nearly drop my towel.

Mikhail is standing in the middle of the bedroom with a tray of food in his hand. He scowls when he sees me, then he places the tray on his night stand and stalks over to me.

“Mikhail—”

“Get your ass back into bed, you’re not wasting me bringing you breakfast,” he says and forces me back under the covers before taking my face in his meaty hands and kissing my senseless. “Good morning,moya koroleva.”

I blink as I stare into his mismatched eyes, confused as fuck. “Wait, what is happening right now?” I ask, breathless, and he genuinely looks confused.

“I’m bringing you breakfast in bed, obviously,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Only you ruined that by waking up too soon.”

That early apprehension and dread in my heart is slowly replaced by a warmth I’ve been trying to push down. This is the sweetest thing; I never would have thought Mikhail would be so … mushy.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling brightly and suddenly feeling shy. “I thought … you left for the day.”

He frowns. “You thought I would just leave for work after you gave me all of you?” he says, shaking his head. “I suppose that one is on me. I did it the day after our wedding.”

I take a moment to let his words sink in, battling the urge to wrap myself in the vulnerability of the situation. It’s unnerving how much I want to believe him, how desperately I want to think that last night meant as much to him as it did to me.

But then, here he is, sitting in front of me like an embodiment of contradictions—harsh and gentle, merciless and caring.

“I’m sorry I thought that way, it’s just... I didn’t know what to expect,” I admit, picking at the corner of the comforter. I look up to find him studying me, his eyes thoughtful, almost tender.

“You’re right. I’ve fucked up. And not just a little. Sending mixed signals, not opening up,” he confesses, his voice laced with regret. “Fact is, I’ve been holding back because I didn’t trust myself around you. I’ve been burned before, Gabriette. Burned so bad it took me years to even look at another woman, and even then, never like this. Never with this fucking intensity.”

My heart pounds at his admission, at the rawness I see in him for the first time. “Mikhail, you don’t have to—”

“No, let me say this,” he interrupts, looking more determined. “I know I’m a complicated, possessive bastard. But you... you disarm me, make me forget my own damn rules. You make me want things I’ve shut out for a long time. You make me want to trust again, and that’s... that’s a big fucking deal.”

A pause hangs heavy between us, filled with unsaid words, regrets, and yearnings. I consider what he’s saying, my heart pounding in my chest. Could it be? Could this hardened man be falling for me just as I am for him?

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