Page 21 of Savage Obsession

I fold my arms, matching her stance, but where she’s trying to look powerful, I don’t need to try. I already own every inch of space I stand in.

"I don’t banter words with other women over a man," I say coolly, letting my Russian accent caress each syllable. "But since you are so desperate for my attention, let me make something clear."

Bella raises a brow, amusement flickering in her eyes, as if she’s convinced she has the upper hand.

I step closer. My tone drops like velvet over steel.

"I do not share my men."

She blinks, taken aback by the quiet deadliness in my voice.

I smile, but there’s nothing soft about it. "So, Bella, get one thing straight, if you ever spread your legs for my husband again…" I pause, watching her smugness flicker into unease. "That will be the last thing you will be spreading. Because you will end up with an open skull."

Her mouth parts slightly, either in disbelief or fear.

I’m not done.

"In fact," I murmur, brushing an invisible piece of lint off my sleeve, making her wait for the next words, "the next time you so much as breathe the same air as me, I will have your head on a platter."

Silence.

For the first time, Bella looks genuinely unsettled.

She forces a chuckle, but it comes out tight, forced. "You think you can threaten me? That Aithan will let you—"

I laugh softly, shaking my head, before leaning in just slightly.

"Aithan does not control me," I whisper, letting my voice drip with the truth. "I am Bratva. I was raised in a world of wolves. You are nothing but a little dog begging for scraps."

She inhales sharply, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

Bella blinks. Color drains from her face, but she quickly recovers, her lips curling into a sneer.

“You think you are something special, right?”

“No, I think you’re a little dog begging for scraps,” I repeat coolly. “And it is pathetic, really.”

That does it.

Bella swings her hand, aiming to slap me across the face.

Big mistake.

I see it coming before she even moves. I shift my weight, dodging her slap effortlessly, and before she can react, I slam my fist into her jaw.

A sharp, satisfying crack echoes through the boutique.

Bella stumbles backward, letting out a shriek as she clutches her face, eyes wide with shock and pain.

I step over her trembling form like she’s nothing but a mild inconvenience, adjusting my handbag over my shoulder.

I turn away, dismissing her without another glance. The conversation is over. Bella doesn’t exist to me anymore. She’s just another forgotten thing in a store full of luxuries.

The saleswoman, who has clearly been eavesdropping, quickly rushes over to finalize my purchases.

As I walk out, I don’t look back. I don’t need to. I already know Bella is standing there, seething, shaken, and completely put in her place.

And I haven’t even started yet.

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