Page 78 of Sinful Obsession
“Just drive,” I said, my voice clipped, eyes fixed on the road.
We pulled up to my apartment, and I thanked him curtly, stepping out, expecting him to leave.
But Viktor got out too, adjusting his jacket, his presence like a weight I couldn’t shake. “Gosh, just go,” I muttered under my breath, my gaze snapping to a figure approaching from the street—the man from the camera.
My heart stopped. It was him.
Cassian Moretti, the devil himself, striding toward me with that predatory grace, his ocean-blue eyes locking onto mine.
His dark coat hugged his broad frame, a faint scar on his cheek catching the light.
Rage and pain surged through me, memories of raising our twins alone flooding back—every sleepless night, every tear, all because he’d cast me out in a blind fury.
Without thinking, I stormed forward and punched him hard in the face, my fist connecting with his jaw.
“Charlotte,” he said, his voice low, unfazed, as he stumbled back slightly.
I hit him again, and again, my knuckles aching, his nose starting to bleed.
“You bastard,” I hissed, tears burning my eyes.
I raised our kids alone, all because he couldn’t trust me.
Cassian wiped the blood with a handkerchief, his expression softening for a moment. “Does your hand hurt?” he asked, reaching for me.
I jerked back, my voice venomous. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
He turned to Viktor, who stood watching with a smug grin. “Is this the ‘baby’ you were talking about on the phone?” Cassian asked, his tone icy, possessive.
I spat at him, my anger boiling over. “That’s none of your business. What are you doing here?”
Cassian ignored me, his gaze fixed on Viktor. “Are you the one dating my woman?”
“Cassian, leave him out of this,” I snapped, stepping between them. “What are you here for?”
But Cassian didn’t budge, his voice a low growl. “Get in your car and leave. You have four seconds.”
Viktor smirked, unfazed, his thick accent dripping with defiance. “You’ve got some nerve, American. Coming to my city,my territory, and giving me orders? This isn’t your playground to flaunt your power.”
Cassian’s fists clenched, veins bulging, and I could see the effort it took to restrain himself. I turned to Viktor, my voice urgent but calm. “Please, Mr. Kuznetsov, go. I can handle this.”
“I’m not leaving you with him,” Viktor said, his eyes narrowing at Cassian. “I don’t trust this guy.”
“He won’t hurt me,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “Trust me.”
Viktor raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. “What’s between you two?”
I bristled at his intrusion, my patience thinning. “Mr. Kuznetsov, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is personal. You’ve helped me get here, and I’m grateful, but you have places to be. Please, go.”
“Family, huh?” he repeated, smirking as if he knew something I didn’t. “Fine. If he tries anything, Charlotte, call me.”
“I will. Thank you,” I said, watching as he hesitated, then climbed into his car. He lingered a moment, staring at us through the window, before finally driving off, his taillights fading into the Moscow dusk.
I turned back to Cassian, my fists still clenched. “So, Cassian, you’re not here to ruin my life again, are you?”
His eyes flicked to Viktor’s retreating car, his voice a low snarl. “I’ll kill him.”
“This is Russia,” I said, stepping closer, my voice steady despite the storm in my chest. “Your power doesn’t reach here. I’m going back to work, so for the last time before I call the cops, what the fuck are you doing at my house?”
