Page 51 of Savage Obsession

Without thinking, I reach forward and wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. It catches her off guard, and for a moment, she stiffens in surprise before relaxing into it.

“You’ll find love, Alina,” I whisper against her shoulder. “I believe that.”

She chuckles as I pull away, shaking her head in amusement. “I must have sounded so pathetic if you’re actually hugging me.”

I arch a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” she smirks, “either I was actually sounding miserable, or love really does make people act out of character.”

I roll my eyes, but before I can swat her arm, she’s already grinning and darting out of reach. “Love definitely makes people act crazy,” I mutter, shaking my head.

But even as I say it, a part of me knows—it’s too late for me. I’m already falling.

24

Yelena

"Aithan, this is ridiculous."

I stand in the center of the penthouse, arms crossed, my pulse thrumming with irritation. My luggage—which I didn’t even pack myself—sits neatly in the corner, evidence of my husband’s high-handedness.

His hand, which is reaching for the light switch, pauses and he turns, his pewter-gold eyes locked onto mine with quiet authority. "It’s not up for discussion,agápi mou," he says smoothly. I am about to rain down thunder and brimstone. I need to keep you safe.

I bristle at the nickname, my temper flaring. "You had me moved without telling me."

"I told you in the car."

"You told me on our way here. You do realize that’s called kidnapping, right?"

Aithan exhales through his nose, his lips twitching as if he finds my irritation amusing. "It’s called protection. Someone nearly killed you, Yelena. Forgive me for not letting you waltz around the mansion like a walking target."

I stalk toward him, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "That mansion has tighter security than Fort Knox. Why the hell would you think I’m safer here?"

His expression hardens, and suddenly, I feel the shift in him—the lethal edge of Aithan Vasilios; the man feared by everyone.

"Because," he murmurs, placing his drink down with deliberate slowness. "This penthouse is smaller, harder to infiltrate, and only a select few even know it exists. That means less staff, fewer rotating guards, no weak points." He tilts his head, his gaze narrowing. "Unless you’d rather take your chances with the assassin who nearly succeeded the first time?"

I hate that logic is on his side.

I exhale sharply, my fists clenching. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re stubborn," he counters. "But I’d rather have you alive and pissed at me than dead in my arms."

His words hit like a punch to the chest.

Dead.

The image flickers in my mind—the sterile hospital room, the machines beeping, Aithan’s cold fury radiating off him as he swore vengeance on whoever had done this to me.

I drop my gaze, swallowing my pride. "Fine. But this doesn’t mean I agree with you."

His smirk is slow and victorious. "You will."

The arrogance.

I roll my eyes and turn away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response.

But I don’t argue anymore.

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