Twisted Empire: King's Gambit (Baranov Bratva Book 1) by J. Tarr

Author:J. Tarr [Tarr, J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-12T16:00:00+00:00

MIKHAIL

There’s something about the sheer vulnerability of music that can strip a person bare, lay them out for the world to see.

When I discovered Gabriette lost in her haunting cello performance, something within me shifted. The air in that room had been heavy, charged with raw emotion, and I’d felt an unbidden urge to shield her from her own turmoil.

So when I cradled her in my arms throughout the night, not one thread of doubt pulled at me. It felt... right. The weight of her against me, the rhythm of her breath as she slept. It anchored me in ways I’d never imagined.

This isn’t just about fulfilling a role anymore. It’s deeper, more visceral. It feels as if this woman, despite everything, has started to burrow her way into my cold, often calloused heart.

It’s been hours since I found her in that music room, her raw emotions laid bare, resonating through her cello. Seeing her so vulnerable, every protective instinct in me had surged forward. She needed someone, and without a second thought, it was my arms she found refuge in.

She hasn’t spoken a word about it. Neither have I. But in the stillness of the room, with her heart beating steadily against me, I can feel a shared understanding forming between us.

I’ve always been the one in control, the unwavering pillar that others lean on. But as dawn breaks, the first golden rays spilling into the room, I find myself at odds with my own feelings. There’s a warmth in my chest, an affection that has been growing steadily, threatening to overtake the defenses I’ve spent years constructing.

Fucking hell. Why now? Why her?

I glance down at Gabriette, her features relaxed in sleep. She’s so different from the defiant firecracker I’ve come to know. In this stillness, there’s a hint of vulnerability, of past pain that has etched itself onto her very soul.

And it’s that pain, so palpably echoed in her music last night, that now pulls at something deep within me.

I’ve noticed the subtle signs, of course. The occasional flinch when I touch her without warning, the shadows in her eyes when she thinks I’m not looking. Something happened to her. Something that left a mark.

Goddamn it. The realization irritates me, not because of its implications, but because I care. I’m starting to fucking care about Gabriette, and that terrifies me.

I’ve lived most of my life maintaining a distance from those who could be used against me. Emotional ties are liabilities I cannot afford. I’ve seen what attachments can do, how they can be exploited, twisted into chains that bind and control.

My great-grandmother is a testament to this.

Yet here I am, getting fucking attached to a woman I barely know, a woman I was ready to use as a pawn, feeling something I haven’t felt in a long time. Vulnerable.

It feels right to have her close, to be the one she turns to. But she’s starting to become a drug, an addiction I didn’t anticipate, one I didn’t want, but one I’m not sure I can resist.

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