Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Mikhail leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he sat across from his mother, Lara Volkov. The grand dining hall of his mother estate was as opulent as ever–chandeliers casting a golden glow over the pristine table, the scent of freshly cooked dishes wanting through the air Despite the lavish setting, Mikhail felt a peculiar restlessness brewing within him.
Lara observed her son, a knowing smile tugging at her lips as she gracefully cut into her steak. “You’ve been distracted all night, Mikhail, the mused, her voice laced with amusement. “Is there something-
-or someone–on your mind?”
Mikhail’s jaw tensed. He should have known his mother would see through him. He had spent years mastering the art of control, but when it came to Angela, that control was slipping faster than he cared to admit.
“I’m fine,” he said curtly, lifting his glass to take a sip of whiskey. It tasted plane and he wondered why.
Lara let out a soft chuckle. “You forget, darling. I raised you. I can see the storm in your eyes.” She took a delicate sip of her wine before setting the glass
down. “Is it a woman?”
Mikhail exhaled sharply through his nose. He had come here for a quiet evening, yet he should have known better–his mother was as perceptive as ever.
Lara continued, her tone light but pointed. “You’re almost thirty, Mikhail. It’s time you settle down. Start a family.” Her mother was so worried about his future to the point she left no chance to tell him to marry all the time.
He stiffened at the words. A family. The image came unbidden–Angela by his side, dressed in white, her delicate fingers intertwined with his. Her soft laughter filling the halls of his estate. And then… children. A little girl with Angela’s beauty and his fierce gaze. A boy with his stubbornness and her quiet strength.
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The vision struck him harder than he expected, a strange warmth settling in his chest. But reality crashed in just as fast–Angela wasn’t his. Not yet. And he didn’t like the thought of it.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Lara noted, her sharp
Piercing into him. “That tells me everything I need to know.”
Mikhail smirked. “And what exactly do you think you know, Mother?”
Lara leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. “That you’ve already made your choice. And that you won’t rest until she’s yours.”
He didn’t confirm nor deny her words, merely lifting his glass in silent acknowledgment. His mother always knew.
As dinner concluded, Mikhail kissed Lara’s cheek, promising to visit her soon. But his mind was elsewhere–already racing back home to the woman who had unwittingly taken hold of him in ways he couldn’t escape.
The moment he arrived at the estate, Mikhail wasted no time. He shrugged off his coat, striding through the dimly lit halls with purpose. The head maid, Tatiana, was preparing for the night when he approached her.
“Make sure Angela joins me for dinner,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Tatiana hesitated for a brief moment. “Sir, she-”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Mikhail interrupted, his gaze dark and unreadable.
She gave a quick nod before hurrying off.
Angela sat stiffly at the grand dining table, her fingers curled into her lap. The aroma of the food made her stomach ache with hunger, but the weight of Mikhail’s presence kept her rigid. He sat at the head of the table, watching her like a predator assessing its prey.
Angela should be happy that she had a roof on her head, a good bed to sleep on and amazing food to eat but the girl couldn’t bring herself to accept this reality because she was just too afraid of Mikhail. He scare her. Terrify her to the point that she felt something else amidst all this. She didn’t know what to think of him. Her knight in shining armor or her captor.
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Chapter 12
Sometimes she felt at ease that she got rid of her uncle and aunt who made her life a living hell but other times she was afraid of drivers interest in her. It was not good for her. Yet when he gets closer her mind would glitch and she didn’t know what to do anymore it wasseran
“Eat,” he commanded.
Angela hesitated, her throat dry. “I’m not hungry.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You will eat.”
She swallowed hard, picking up her fork with trembling 607
gaze never leaving her.
“Did you enjoy your day?” he asked suddenly.
Angela looked up, startled. “What?”
“Your day,” he repeated, setting his glass down. “Did you enjoy
She hesitated. “I… stayed in my room.”
The silence between them stretched, thick with tension, Mikhail sipped his drink, his
Mikhail exhaled through his nose, his irritation evident. “That won’t do.”
Angela frowned. “Why do you care?”
His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk. “Because, Angel, your world now revolves around me. And I take care of what’s mine.”
She stiffened. “I’m not yours.”
Mikhail’s gaze darkened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Not yet.”
Angela’s breath hitched at the conviction in his tone. A cold dread curled around her spine. He was a man who got what he wanted, and she was beginning to realize there was no escaping that.
Mikhail tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating something. Then, in a voice deceptively calm, he said, “We’re getting married next month.”
The fork slipped from Angela’s fingers, clattering against the porcelain plate. Her blood ran cold.
“What?” she whispered, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Mikhail’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “You heard me, Angel.”
Angela’s world spun, the walls of the grand dining room closing in around her.
AD
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