Chapter 15
Angela sat stiffly in the sleek black car as it cut through the cold Moscow streets. The city’s nightscape blurred past, but she saw nothing. She was blind to the towering skyline, to the lights flickering in the distance–yet, she could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Mikhail hadn’t told her much, only that tonight was important. That she would be meeting someone.
His mother.
A chill crept up her spine at the thought. Mikhail Volkov was a terrifying man, but his mother? If she was anything like him, Angela knew she would not be welcomed with open arms. She clenched her fingers into the fabric of her dress, fighting the nervous tremor threatening to betray her.
“You’re too quiet, Angel,” Mikhail’s voice was smooth yet sharp, slicing through the heavy silence between them. She felt his gaze on her, even as she kept her head turned away.
“I don’t know what you expect me to say.” She said softly. She was scared and nervous. Angela didn’t want to go, she didn’t want to meet his mom but she had no choice.
He chuckled darkly, and the sound made her stomach twist. “Perhaps you’re worried. Good. You should be.”
Angela swallowed hard but refused to respond. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that she was getting married to him. And why did he even want to marry her.
Angela was calm and doing as per his liking but she will not marry him. She’ll find a way to stop it. She’ll pay him back. She’ll do something but marrying him was the last thing.
The car rolled to a stop, and she felt Mikhail’s hand on her wrist, his grip firm but not painful–yet.
“Be good, Angel.” His voice was low, a dangerous warning laced with something else she couldn’t quite place. “Just be yourself.” He added making her inhale sharply.
As if that would make a difference.
She allowed him to guide her out of the car, the cold air nipping at her skin. The scent of expensive cigars and polished marble filled her senses as they entered the grand estate. She could hear the faint clinking of glasses, the murmur of voices–until everything went silent.
“Mikhail.” A woman’s voice, smooth and commanding.
“Mother,” Mikhail greeted her. Angela could feel his posture straighten beside her, the subtle tension in his body. He wasn’t intimidated, but there was something there–something restrained.
Lara Volkov.
Angela stood still, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She could feel the woman’s piercing gaze assessing her, even though she couldn’t see it.
“This is the girl?” Lara’s voice dripped with curiosity.
“Yes.” Mikhail’s tone left no room for argument.
Silence stretched for an unbearable moment. Lara’s eyes widened when she noticed that the beautiful girl wasn’t looking at her straight but was looking elsewhere. Lara spoke again. “She is blind?” There was pure shock in Lara’s voice as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Angela’s heart clenched, but she remained silent.
“And she look so weak,” Lara’s voice was of distaste.
Mikhail let out a slow exhale, one that sounded more amused than annoyed. “Weak?” He leaned closer to Angela, his breath warm against her temple as he whispered, “You don’t know her yet.”
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Chapter 15
Lara scoffed, the sharp click of her heels echoing as she moved away, “You always did enjoy damaged things.”
Angela flinched at the words. Why was she being so cruel to her. It wasn’t like Angela wanted to marry Mikhail. He was the one forcing her to marry him as if he had all the right in the world. She was waiting for Mikhail to say something in her defence but he said nothing for a long time:
Mikhail’s hand found the small of her back, grounding her with his touch. “She is mine, Mother.” That was all he said. His claim over her as if she wounta human but a mere thing and that she belonged to him.
“And that is your mistake,” Lara said coldly. “I will not approve of this.”
Angela’s heart pounded, but before she could process Lara’s words further, another voice cut through the air–silkier, smoother, yet laced with something equally dangerous.
“Well, this is an interesting sight.”
A slow sinister smirk spread across Mikhail’s lips before he turned. “Damien.”
Angela felt the shift in the air–something darker, heavier. She sensed another presence, closer than she anticipated. Then, warm fingers brushed over her hand, so light she almost pulled away in reflex.
“I can see why my dear brother is so… possessive.” The man’s voice was low, teasing. “She is exquisite.”
Mikhail’s grip on her tightened instantly.
Angela swallowed hard. She didn’t need to see Damien to feel the tension crackling between him and Mikhail like an impending storm.
“Touch her again,” Mikhail’s voice was deceptively calm, “and I will break your fingers.”
Damien chuckled, completely unfazed. “Relax, brother. I’m merely admiring your taste.”
Lara sighed. “Enough. If you insist on this ridiculous affair, Mikhail, do not expect my blessing.”
Mikhail didn’t respond. Instead, his hand slid up Angela’s arm,
his possessiveness undeniable. “We’ll be leaving now.”
They were supposed to have dinner with his mom but it seemed like it was ruined because of her.
Angela barely had time to process before he was guiding her away, his movements sharp, his body radiating fury. As they stepped back into the car, the door slammed shut behind them.
The silence was deafening.
Angela’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “She hates me.”
Mikhail exhaled through his nose. “She doesn’t matter.”
Angela bit her lip, hesitating. “And your brother?”
Mikhail’s hand curled into a fist on his thigh. “Forget him.”
Som
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