Page 71 of Tainted Empire
She stops pacing, her eyes locking with mine, still bristling with frustration. “Feels like I’m being sidelined, Mikhail. Like my role was just temporary and now I’m not needed anymore.”
I let out a frustrated sigh and shook my head, reaching for her hand. “No, that’s not it. Look, we’re scheduling a meeting because I need to show I’m still capable of leading this fucking ship. And you need to be there, baby; you’re a part of this, every step of the way.”
Her expression softens slightly, but her sass remains. “So, now I’m just arm candy in your meetings?”
“Fuck sakes, Malyshka,“ I reply, my voice firm. “You’re not just arm candy. You’re my partner, in every fucking sense of the word. I need your input, your insight. You’ve kept things going here, better than I could have hoped for. I’d be a fool to undermine that.”
Her stance relaxes, and she comes closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. I reach for her hand again, bringing it to my lips for a gentle kiss. “I’d never undermine your rule, Gabriette, not when you’ve shown everyone what you’re capable of. You’re not just my partner, you’re the fucking queen of this empire. Your voice, your decisions, they matter.”
She looks at me, a mix of affection and lingering frustration in her eyes. “Better remember that, Baranov,” she says, half-joking, half-serious.
I chuckle, despite the pain. “Wouldn’t dream of forgetting it, my queen.”
As we talk, the tension eases. Gabriette is more than just my partner; she’s my equal, and I need her by my side. But I’m genuinely concerned about how she’s been coping with everything.
“Be honest with me, baby,” I start, drawing her fingers to my lips, my voice softening. “How have you really been holding up through all this?”
She lets out a long sigh, her gaze drifting away for a moment as if gathering her thoughts.
“It’s been tough, tougher than I thought it would be,” she admits, her voice carrying a hint of weariness. “There were moments when I felt like I was about to break, but Alexei... he pushed me. Kept me going just when I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
I raise an eyebrow, a bit taken aback. “Alexei? Really?” It’s surprising, yet somehow not completely unexpected.
She nods, a hint of a smile appearing. “Yeah, he did. More than just a bodyguard, he’s been a mentor, a support. You have a loyal man on your side, Mikhail. He didn’t let me fall even when I felt sorry for myself.”
A sense of pride and gratitude washes over me. “I’ve always trusted Alexei, but to hear he’s been your rock in all this... it means a lot. I owe him.”
Gabriette’s smile widens. “He’s been tough on me, but it’s what I needed. He’s made me stronger, helped me to stand on my own.”
Her admission strikes a chord in me. In our world, loyalty like Alexei’s is rare and invaluable. I definitely owe him if he helped Gabriette more than what was expected of him.
“When I get out of this bed, I’ll make sure he knows how much we appreciate what he’s done. Hearing this, knowing you’ve had support, it gives me some peace,” I take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, baby, but you’ve done so well on your own; more than I ever hoped for. I’m fucking proud to call you my wife.”
She gives me a shy smile and as we sit there, in the quiet of the hospital room, I realize how much Gabriette has grown, how she’s stepped up in ways I never expected. This woman who joked about taking a knife to my throat on our wedding night, has come to be my entire fucking life.
Who would have thought I’d owe my sanity to a timid kitten who wanted to kill me the first time she saw me?
Chapter 37
Gabriette
Today is the day of the meeting and I am dreading it.
A knot of nerves tightens in my stomach. Mikhail, freshly discharged from the hospital, is in a wheelchair. He’s regained some mobility in his legs, but not enough to walk on his own yet. His frustration is palpable, the air around him charged with his usual fiery temperament.
“Can’t believe these bastards might not take us seriously because I’m in this damn wheelchair,” Mikhail grumbles, his hands gripping the armrests. His annoyance is understandable, but his presence alone commands respect, wheelchair or not.
I place a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some reassurance. “You’re still Mikhail Baranov. That hasn’t changed. They’ll listen.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about, Malyshka,” he says, anger glinting in his mismatched eyes. “But if they brush you off, they’ll have me to answer to.”
After a few minutes, we enter the meeting room and I steel myself, preparing to face whatever comes. Mikhail’s presence is a strong signal, but I know I have to stand my ground too. This is a critical moment for us, a test of our strength and unity.
Three members of the Bratva are already seated when we arrive. Their eyes linger on Mikhail’s wheelchair momentarily before they shift to me, appraising.
The tension in the meeting room is palpable as the Bratva members struggle with the concept of being led, even partially, by a woman. Their skepticism is evident in their body language and the way they address me.
The whispers grow more pronounced, derogatory remarks passed in Russian, thinking I won’t understand. But I’ve picked up more than they realize. Mikhail sits back and I see he’s getting angry, but I place a hand on his shoulder and shake my head.