Page 1 of Dark Obsession

Chapter 1

Elena

"If one more guy looks at me like I'm an appetizer, I might start breaking noses."

I sip my martini, running my tongue along the rim for dramatic effect. Sasha and Natalia laugh, but they know I’m not joking.

The place is packed. Down below, bodies grind together, lost in the lights and the bass that shake the walls of Bellagio 223. We’re perched above it all in our private lounge, the best seats in the house. Figures, even when I go out to unwind, I’m still on a throne.

“Let them look,” Sasha says with a smirk, leaning back into the plush couch cushions, her tiny silver dress baring most of her body. “They can’t afford you, even if they sold their souls.”

Natalia raises her glass, the diamonds on her wrist glinting in the strobe lights. "Here’s to that."

I smooth my dress, a deep, rich burgundy satin that hugs every curve with a slit cut dangerously high. A diamond necklace—vintage Cartier—glistens against my skin like it was made justfor me. And actually, it was. The leather cuffs on my wrists, studded with gold, give me just enough of an edge to remind people who I am. Princess, for sure, but not the kind you’d ever dream of saving.

The bodyguards linger close by, stationed in every corner of our private section as my brothers’ have ordered. They’re annoying but even I know better than to complain when it comes to our family’s safety.

Tonight isn’t about my brothers, though. It’s about me. It’s my birthday. My freedom, what little amount I’ve allowed myself to taste.

Power comes from knowing when to use it.

I sit back, martini in hand as I scan the dance floor. It’s a sea of men, all trying way too hard. Some of them have been looking my way—boldly at first until they realize who I am—and then I see a change in their expressions, the way their interest turns into fear the second they learn my last name isIvanovais amusing.

Cowards.

One guy wearing too much cologne and not enough brain cells stares a little longer than the others. I raise an eyebrow, and he quickly turns his attention back to whatever unlucky girl he was grinding against.

Sasha nudges me with her elbow. “Come on, Elena, get out of work mode for one night. You can go back to playing “CEO of Everything” tomorrow. Tonight’s about having fun.”

“I am having fun,” I reply, swirling the last bit of martini in my glass.

Natalia snorts. “If staring down men until they piss themselves is your idea of fun, fine. But I’m talking about actual fun. You’ve been working nonstop lately. Ivanov Holdings won’t collapse if you take a night off.”

Easy for her to say. She doesn’t run the IT department of a multibillion-dollar empire. Still, they’re not wrong. Idoneed to relax.

I finish my drink, letting the cool burn of vodka settle in. “You’re right,” I say with a smirk, standing. “Let’s dance.”

The girls cheer as I finally give in, and we head down to the dance floor.

One of the bodyguards steps up, his face impassive. “Miss Elena, be careful.”

I laugh under my breath, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “Relax, Anton. I’ve been living this life for exactly twenty-seven years as of today. I think I’ve got it handled.”

He gives me a look like he wants to argue, but wisely keeps his mouth shut. The rest of the bodyguards fall in line, spreading out across the dance floor, dark, watchful, and more than a little suffocating. Not exactly the vibe you want when you’re trying to forget you’re a Bratva princess.

I wonder what it would feel like to dance without all of this fanfare around, with no bodyguards watching my every move, stepping in any time a guy gets too close, no worrying about whether or not someone might be stupid enough to try something, creating chaos in the middle of the dance floor.

I wonder what it would feel like to simply be… free.

But I know better than to waste time on daydreaming about such things. That life isn’t for me. It never was.

Sasha grabs my hand and pulls me into the beat. The music pounds, and for a second, I forget everything else. We dance, and like clockwork, men start to orbit. Circling. Watching. Hoping.

But none of them piques my interest. They never do.

As expected, if one of them gets too close, the bodyguards stiffen, ready to intervene. It’s no wonder I’m still a twenty-seven-year-old virgin. Romance doesn’t exactly thrive under armed surveillance.

Sasha leans in, her voice cutting through the thumping bass. “What do you think of the guy in the white shirt?” She tilts her chin toward some muscle-bound guy with slicked-back hair. He’s eyeing us like he’s trying to decide which of us he’s got the best shot with. Spoiler alert—none of us.

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