Chapter 16
Angela sat in silence, her hands resting on her lap as the car moved through the dimly lit streets. The tension from earlier still clung to her like a second skin. Mikhail’s mother’s disapproving gaze, the way she had looked at her like she was filth it left Angela feeling hollow. And then there was Damen Mikhail’s half–brother, who had spoken to her with a deceptive kindness that sent unease rippling through her.
She turned her head slightly, sensing Mikhail’s presence beside her. He hadn’t said a word since they left the mansion. The air in the car was thick with something unspoken, something dark.
Mikhail clenched his jaw as his fingers drummed on his knee. Angela wasn’t supposed to see that side of his family, to experience the cold judgment, the unspoken war that constantly brewed between him and his mother. And Damien his mere presence had been enough to ignite an unfamiliar rage within Mikhail. The way Damien had watched Angela, the way he smiled at her, the way he spoke to her as if she was some delicate thing that needed saving–Mikhail wanted to break him for it.
“You’re quiet,” Angela finally said, her voice soft but uncertain. “Are you angry with me?”
Mikhail turned his head sharply. “Why the hell would I be angry with you?” He snapped. He sounded angry but why was he taking it out on her. She wasn’t at fault here. Why did he took her with him in the first place.
She hesitated, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. “Because… your mother didn’t approve of me. And because your brother…” She trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.
Mikhail exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “My mother disapproves of everything I do. And Damien? He’s a snake. Don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth.”
“And you dodn’t need to worry about these useless things. Make up your mind for our wedding. Tatina would help you select your wedding dress. Be good simple,” He said as her stomach churned but she didn’t answer him on that.
Angela bit her lip, recalling the way Damien had subtly whispered, You deserve better. It had been a fleeting moment, but it lingered in her mind like a haunting melody.
She didn’t deserve anything that has been happening in her life uptil now but did she had control over it? No.
When they arrived at the estate, Mikhail exited the car first and held the door open for her. The moment she stepped out, she felt the weight of his gaze on her. Before she could process what was happening, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him.
“You’re going to be my wife,” he growled, his voice low and laced with danger.
Angela gasped, what was he? Bipolar or something. Why was he acting like this all of a sudden? Her free hand pressing against his chest. “Mikhail-”
“Say it,” he demanded, his grip tightening. “Say you understand.”
She swallowed hard, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I–I understand.”
His eyes darkened. “Good.”
Without another word, he led her inside, his grip never loosening. The atmosphere in the mansion felt different tonight, more suffocating. As soon as they reached the bedroom, he shut the door and turned to her. The storm in his eyes hadn’t faded.
Angela’s heart pounded as she took a step back. “You’re scaring me.”
Mikhail’s expression flickered, as if he was waging an internal war with himself. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling before stepping forward and reaching for her. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw with an unexpected gentleness.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he murmured, his voice raw. “But I can’t stand the thought of anyone else looking at you the way he did.”
Angela shivered, her body betraying her fear and something else–something dangerous and all–consuming. “…I understand,” she whispered.
Chapter 16
Mikhail’s lips curved into a smirk, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “Good.”
The words sent a thrill of something unknown down her spine. He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over her lips, as if tecting her resolve. Just when she thought he might claim her completely, he pulled back, his control razor–thin.
“Get some rest,” he ordered, his voice gruff. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Angela stood frozen as he turned and walked away, leaving her with a heart full of questions and a soul that testered on the edge of something she wasn’t ready to name.
The room was shrouded in silence, broken only by the faint rustling of sheets as Angela lay in bed, staring into the darkness. Sleep eluded her. Her mind spun with thoughts of Mikhail, of his mother’s piercing words, of Damien’s unsettling presence. And then, just as she was beginning to drift into exhaustion, a soft creak echoed from the doorway.
Angela stiffened. She held her breath, listening intently. The door opened slowly, and the faint sound of footsteps padded toward her bed.
“Miss Angela,” a hushed voice whispered.
Angela turned her head, her body tensing. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Yelena,” the maid murmured. “Please don’t be afraid.”
Angela recognized the voice, one of the few maids who had shown her kindness since she arrived at Mikhail’s estate. “What is it?” she asked cautiously.
There was a brief pause before something cool was pressed into her hand. Angela’s fingers curled around it instinctively–a phone.
“Answer it,” Yelena urged. “This person… they said they can help you escape.”
Angela’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded as she hesitated. Could she trust this? Could she risk it?
But the chance of freedom, of escaping this gilded prison, was too much to ignore.
With trembling fingers, she brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?” she whispered.
A deep, unfamiliar voice came through the receiver. “Angela, listen carefully. If you want to escape Mikhail Volkov, you need to act fast. Are you ready to take back your freedom?”
Angela swallowed, her pulse hammering. This was it. Her chance.
“Yes.”
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