Page 62 of Cruel Submission

But the words don’t come.

Because she’s right. I’m giving her nothing. Taking everything. Making choices for her without asking what she wants, what she needs, whether she’s willing to risk the danger I bring into her life.

Just like Gavriil does.

Just like Yanis said.

So I stand there.

Silent.

Proving every accusation she just made.

And then, from out of nowhere, words come to me.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

Chapter Twenty

Mirabel

“I’m sorry.”

The words stop me mid-stride. I’m already turning to leave, already walking away from another argument that went nowhere. But those two words—impossible words from his mouth—root me to the marble floor.

I turn back. “What did you just say?”

Arkady stands three feet away in the corridor outside his study. I can see the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes. His shirt is half-unbuttoned, revealing the dense blackwork that crawls up his throat. He looks like he hasn’t slept. Like whatever weight he’s carrying finally cracked something inside him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

I don’t have a response to that. When it comes to Arkady Laurov, I understand instructions, barked orders, and unreasonable demands. But apologies? This is new. I’m speechless.

Then he closes the distance between us, and his mouth is on mine.

The kiss is desperate, almost violent. His hand cups the back of my skull, fingers tangling in my hair hard enough to sting. His other arm bands around my waist, crushing me against him. I taste coffee and feel the tremor in his hands that he’s trying to hide.

For three seconds, I let myself respond. Let my lips part under his, let my body melt into the heat of him. Let myself pretend this means something.

Then fury ignites in my chest.

I shove both hands against his shoulders. Hard. “No!”

He releases me immediately, stumbling back a step. Shock flickers across his face—genuine surprise that I’d refuse him.

Good. Let him be surprised. Asshole!

“I told you I’m done with this bullshit,” I snap. My voice shakes, but I don’t care. “You don’t get to apologize without telling me what for. You don’t get to kiss me and expect—”

“Mirabel—”

“What are you keeping from me, Arkady?” The question rips out of me, raw and desperate. “What are we to each other? Because I can’t— I can’t keep doing this. The disappearing acts. The locked doors. The doctors and nurses I keep seeing come and go. You won’t tell me anything, but you expect me to just—”

“I have a lot going on.” His voice flattens. The mask sliding back into place.

“That’s not an answer!” My hands curl into fists. “You can’t continue feeding me that bullshit. Especially not when I’m—”

Pregnant. When I’m pregnant with your child.