Page 66 of His Stolen Bride

He nods once. “Then you’re going to eat.”

I blink at him.

“You haven’t eaten enough today,” he says, and his tone turns sharp like he’s annoyed at himself for noticing. “You’ll be steady.”

“I’m steady.”

“You’ll be fed,” he corrects, and it lands like an order and a concern at once.

I stare at him for a second, then I nod, and the nod is smaller than it should be.

I turn to leave, then I stop at the door.

“Mikhail.”

He looks up.

“If I’m right,” I say, “then I was never meant to be Sergei’s bride. I was never meant to be yours. I was meant to be Vladimir’s, and everyone else was a delay.”

Mikhail’s eyes harden.

“Say the rest,” he says.

I keep my voice calm. “If I walk into that room and he sees me choosing, he’ll talk. He’ll want to hear himself win. He’ll say what he’s been hiding.”

Mikhail nods slowly.

“And if I’m wrong,” I add, “then he’ll try to take me.”

Mikhail’s voice drops. “He won’t.”

I hold his gaze. “You swore you’d trust me.”

“I do,” he says.

“Then let me do this,” I reply.

Mikhail doesn’t answer with words.

He crosses the room in two steps, grabs me by the waist, and kisses me again, hard and fast, like he’s sealing something and warning me at the same time. My breath catches, my hands grip his shoulders, and I feel the tension in him like a live wire.

He breaks the kiss and keeps his forehead close to mine.

“Okay. We’ll make a plan, but we’ll do it together.” That makes me smile, and I nod in agreement.

I leave the office with my mouth hot, my pulse fast, and my plan already forming into a clean shape in my head.

Vladimir wanted a choice.

He’s going to get one.

And this time, it’ll be mine.

21

MIKHAIL

Alina leaves my office with her spine straight and her mouth swollen from my kiss.