Page 16 of His Stolen Bride

I shake my head hard. “You’re lying.”

“If I wanted to lie to you,” he says, voice menacingly low, “I’d pick something that benefits me.”

“This benefits you,” I shoot back. “It gives you a new reason to keep me here.”

His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and the movement is so deliberate it makes heat crawl up my neck. “You’re here because you’re mine,” he says. “This changes who else thinks they have a claim.”

I press my nails into my palms until it stings. “My father’s debts were small.”

Mikhail’s brows lift in amusement and he almost snorts. “You silly child. That’s what he told you.”

“He couldn’t have been involved in this,” I say, voice shaking now. I hate that it shakes. “He was stupid, not evil.”

Mikhail watches me in silence that feels pointed. He lets me talk myself into a corner. “He loved me,” I say, because I need to say it, even if it sounds childish.

Mikhail takes one step closer. “Then he loved himself more.”

The words land clean and sharp, and my eyes burn. I look away first, forcing myself to breathe through it and face him again. “Who is the other man?”

The question is out before I can stop it, and I watch his face carefully as I ask it. Mikhail’s eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you care?”

“Because if you’re going to stand in my room at midnight and say my life was sold twice,” I retort, keeping my tone steady through sheer will, “I want to know who else thinks they own me.”

His gaze holds mine for a long beat.

Then he says, “I don’t know yet.”

Something in my chest loosens and tightens at the same time.

He doesn’t know.

He’s furious, but he’s missing a piece. He’s used to walking into rooms already holding the answers, and now he’s in my room holding a question he can’t solve.

I don’t let my face show the relief. I don’t let him see that I just found a small weapon.

I nod once, as if I’m processing. “So you came to accuse me of something you can’t even name.”

Mikhail’s jaw flexes. “I came to tell you your father put a target on your back.”

“I already have a target,” I say, and I lift my hand and tap the ring once. “You gave me one.”

His eyes drop to the ring, then rise. “I put my name on you to keep you alive.”

“Is that what you call this?” I ask. “Keeping me alive?”

He steps closer again, close enough that I can smell him, the clean bite of his cologne and the heat of his skin. “Do you want the truth,” he asks, “or do you want comfort?”

I swallow. My body responds to him even now, even with my throat tight and my eyes burning. It’s infuriating. “I want information.”

His mouth twitches again. “Ask.”

I force myself to stay still. “How does it work?”

Mikhail’s eyes don’t move from my face. “Explain.”

“You say my father promised me twice,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can. “What does that mean in your world? Is it a contract, blackmail, or debt that transfers like property?”

His stare gets heavier. I can feel him assessing me, deciding whether I’m playing or panicking.