Page 124 of His Darkest Obsession
"I was just... walking," I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady despite the panic building in my chest.
"So fast?" Vassily asks. "And with tears on your face?"
"I—"
"This section," Valentina interrupts with a dismissive wave, "is reserved for official bratva business. And since you are not bratva..." Her eyes narrow. "This area is off limits to you."
Vassily steps closer. "Maybe she's spying on my brother."
The accusation hangs in the air like poison gas. Valentina's face darkens with displeasure, her features hardening into something truly frightening.
"Is this true?" she asks.
I freeze, uncertain how to respond. Was I spying? Technically speaking, yes. But not maliciously. Just out of curiosity at what could've been so important that Anatoly would leave my side this morning.
But now, I wish I hadn't been curious.
If I hadn't pressed my ear against that door, I might've continued believing the lie that Anatoly actually cared about me. I could have stayed wrapped in that beautiful delusion a little longer.
My silence stretches too long, and Valentina takes it as confirmation.
"Hmm." She taps one manicured talon against her chin. "Perhaps what you need is a sharp lesson."
My blood runs cold. Whatever "sharp lesson" Valentina has in mind can't possibly be good. I try to back away, but she's too quick.
"Vasya," she commands. "Grab her."
His hand reaches out, and thick fingers circle my wrist with bruising force. Yet even in that moment, he takes the opportunity to rub his thumb suggestively across my skin while his tongue dart out to wet his lips.
He looks down, eyes filled with undisguised hunger, and another wave of nausea hits me.
I swallow hard to keep from retching.
Valentina doesn't even bother reacting at what she's seeing. Maybe it doesn't even matter to her. After all, I'm nothing but a gold-digging whore in her eyes, and I'd already been told that Vassily is her favorite.
She won't lift a finger to help me.
In fact, if she does do anything, it'll be to make my personal hell even worse than what it is right now.
She turns around quickly, and barks out a single word without bothering to look back.
"Follow."
Vassily yanks my arm, and drags me down the hall after his mother.
For a brief, desperate moment, I consider screaming for help. My head whips back toward Anatoly's office as Vassily drags me forward. Maybe if I yell loud enough, Anatoly will come for me.
But then I remember what I just heard, and the scream dies in my throat even as my mouth opens.
But this doesn't escape Vassily's attention. He yanks my arm hard enough that I stumble forward.
"Don't even think about it, Amelia," he hisses into my ear.
I freeze mid-step.
Amelia.
My real name.
