Page 35 of Crimson Sin
The best part is how effortless it’ll be,” Viktor says, his voice fading slightly as I retreat. “All those years of Daniil playing the mastermind, and in the end, he’s undone by something this simple. And Naomi? I think I’ll keep her as my reward for finishing what he never could.”
I turn and walk away as quickly and quietly as I can, my heart hammering against my ribs. The ivory dress that felt so pretty and feminine moments ago now feels like a shroud, marking me as the fraud I apparently am. My mind races as I try to process what I've just heard and understand the full implications.
If Viktor can prove our marriage is fake and show that the certificate was never properly filed, then Daniil could lose everything. Not just money, though I'm sure there's plenty of that at stake. This is about power and control. And I, with my naive trust and desperate need to believe in something real, have become the weapon that could destroy him.
I find myself moving faster, practically running through the halls now, desperate to find Daniil and warn him. My footsteps echo off the marble floors, and I'm sure every servant in the house canhear me, but I don't care. I need to see his face when I tell him what I heard. I need to know if he already knows, and this is just another move in a game he's been playing all along.
I find Daniil in his study, a room I've only glimpsed before. It's masculine and imposing, all dark wood and leather, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a massive desk that dominates the space. He stands there, sleeves rolled, collar loosened, the strength in his forearms impossible to miss. When I burst through the door, he looks up, his expression the carefully controlled mask he wears so well.
For a moment, we just stare at each other across the expanse of the room. He looks tired, I realize, with shadows under his eyes suggesting he didn't sleep much. His dark hair is slightly mussed, as if he's been running his hands through it, a nervous habit I've noticed he has when he's thinking hard about something.
“We need to talk,” I announce, my voice breathless from my rush through the house and the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
He doesn't move or change his expression. “About what?”
The casual tone and the way he's looking at me, as if I'm just another interruption in his day, makes something snap inside me. “About how your cousin is plotting to destroy you. About how he knows this marriage is a lie. About how he's working to prove it and rip the inheritance out from under you, claiming me as a prize, while you stand there pretending everything is fine.”
Something flares in his eyes then, a crack in that perfect control, but his voice remains level. “Where did you hear that?”
The question makes me want to scream. Not denial, or surprise, just a calm inquiry into my sources.
“I heard him,” I shoot back, moving closer to the desk. “On the phone. Just now. He was talking to someone about how the marriage certificate was never filed and how easy it's going to be to prove it's fraudulent.”
Daniil sets down the pen he's been holding. “You shouldn't be eavesdropping on private conversations.”
The response is so infuriating that I actually laugh, though there's no humor in it. “Don’t you dare turn this on me. You brought me into this deal, Daniil. I agreed to the lie. But you never told me what it would cost.”
He comes closer. “What do you want to know?”
I meet his gaze, heat rising to my cheeks. “Is this who you are? All of it? The expensive suits and the silent guards and the way people flinch when you walk in the room. Obsidian Vault… is it real? Or is it just a cover?”
His expression doesn’t change, but shadows dance in his eyes.
“It’s real enough.”
“That’s not an answer. Are youmafia, Daniil? Are you part of something I can’t begin to understand? Because I need to know what I’m standing in. I need to know what I agreed to.”
His silence confirms what I already suspect.
“So that’s a yes,” I say, my voice barely more than a breath.
He doesn’t nod or deny it, just steps closer. “You were safer not knowing.”
“I don’t want safe. I want the truth.”
“And what would you do with it, Naomi?”
“Decide whether I can keep pretending. Or whether I need to run.”
He shakes his head slowly. “You wouldn’t make it a block without one of my men finding you.”
“Is that a threat?” I gasp, taking a step back and crossing my arms over my chest.
“It’s not. It’s reality.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, my chest tightening. “Then tell me the rest. Tell me who you are when you’re not pretending to be my husband. Tell me why people are scared of you.”
Daniil stares at me for a long time, the air between us pulsing with electricity and dread. Finally, he speaks.
