Page 3 of Endless Obsession

“That’s right, your anniversary surprise.” He pauses. “I might have other plans on Sunday, though. I’ll let you know. An old friend is in town for the weekend, and I don’t want to miss the chance to grab a beer with him.”

“Oh?” I try to keep my tone neutral, even as my heart drops a little. I tell myself I’m being unreasonable. Asking to have him to myself for a whole weekend is a lot. Especially if it means missing out on seeing a friend.

“No one you know,” he says breezily. “Oh—shit. Work’s calling. I’ll be out in the living room, Char.”

“Okay.” I hate that nickname, but he started calling me that early on in our relationship, and it stuck. It’s not that bad, and after all, one of the cornerstones of a healthy relationship is picking your battles. A silly nickname isn’t a battle worth fighting.

I know for a fact what Jaz is going to say when she finds out Nate is ditching me on Sunday. But that means I’ll be able to meet them for brunch, so it won’t be that bad?—

I reach for the seamless underwear I bought to go under the dress, only to realize that in my hurry to hide the ring and act natural before Nate came into the bedroom, I didn’t grab it. I check the time, reassured that I still have plenty to spare, and hurry back into the bedroom naked to find where I put it.

What if Nate walked back in? The thought flickers into my head as I dig through my top drawer for the Nordstrom bag, and I feel that small, disappointed swoop in my stomach that I sometimes do when I think about our love life. I’d like to think that we’d be late for dinner, if he walked into our bedroom to find me standing naked in the middle of the room, that he’d grab my hair and bend me over the dresser, unzip his suit trousers, and take me just like that. That he’d whisper in my ear that if I’m going to come, I should do it quickly, so we still have a chance of making our reservation.

I feel a throb of heat between my thighs at the thought, a tingle there, and I squeeze them together briefly, grabbing the bag out of the drawer as I try to shake the thought loose.

Because, the fact is, if Nate walked in right now, nothing would happen. He’d comment that I wasn’t dressed yet, and then move on with whatever he came to the bedroom to do.

And that’s fine, I tell myself as I head back to the bathroom. Men don’t actually behave like that. Maybe, in some relationships, at the very beginning—but definitely not after five years. Having a stable, loyal, companionable relationship is much better than one that would just fizzle out anyway?—

Something catches my eye, as I walk past the bed. Nate’s phone—his personal phone, not his work cell—is on the nightstand. He doesn’t usually leave it out—he tends to be picky about his things being put away—but I don’t think anything of it, until it lights up a second time, and I glance over at the screen.

I don’t mean to snoop. I’ve never felt that I have a reason to. I’ve never worried for a second about Nate’s fidelity. But his phone is unlocked, the text bubbles popping up on the screen, and I see a woman’s name.

Valerie.

Valerie.

Valerie.

It pops up a fourth time.

Someone from work, I tell myself. A friend. A cousin he never told me about.

But my gut tells me there’s something off.

A fifth message.

Before I can stop myself, I dart forward, sweeping the phone off the nightstand as I duck back into the bathroom and close the door, leaning back against it. I tell myself that I’m not going to find anything. That this is all perfectly innocuous. That I’m going to feel foolish and guilty as soon as I read the messages.

But if I don’t, I’m going to wonder all night. And I don’t want to spoil our anniversary by my own silly anxieties.

I slide my thumb up the screen, opening the texts. And despite all my arguments with myself otherwise, I have a horrible feeling about what I’m going to see.

2

IVAN

“You need to come with me, brat.”

“Good afternoon to you, too, brother.” I don’t look up from the padded leather seat where I’m sitting with my cheek against the headrest. Behind me, I can hear the soothing buzz of a tattoo gun, feel the sting of the needles as they pierce the skin of my shoulder repetitively.

I’ve been looking forward to this appointment for weeks. A little self-care, after a month that has, quite frankly, felt like a year. And now one of my brothers is here to interrupt it.

Lev, from the sound of it. My least favorite of my siblings. Not that I get along with any of them.

“We don’t have time for this. You’re needed down at the warehouse.”

“Get Grigori to do it.”

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