Page 33 of Twisted Obsession
I leaned against the rough bark of the tree, straining my ears to catch fragments of Dmitri’s conversation drifting through the air. My heart pounded as I swiped the screen of the cell, the glow illuminating my trembling fingers. Time was slipping through my grasp like sand, so my messages needed to be concise and urgent. I quickly entered Chloe’s number and began typing her a message.
UNKNOWN: Chloe, it’s Lara. I’m in dire trouble. Dmitri Antonov has kidnapped me. You must find Angelo Balestrini. He is my brother.
Please, please, please, text me back.
I stared at the cell, nerves twisting in my stomach, praying Chloe wouldn’t dismiss my message as a cruel joke. Fear, colder than ice, gripped me tighter than ever before. My mother’s murder had haunted me, but at least there was an escape plan.
CHLOE: Oh, my God, Lara. Where are you?
ME: I don’t know. Somewhere in New York City, Antonov Mansion. I don’t have the address. Unsure how long I can keep communicating. Please hurry.
CHLOE: Wait, how do I know it’s really you?
I racked my brain, searching for a memory only she would recognize, something to prove my identity.
ME: Raptor, three years ago. The fake IDs you got us. I was Sara Jones, and you were Milly Andrews. Our toast to ‘turning over a new leaf’—your words.
CHLOE: God, I’ve missed you. Hang tight. Be safe, Lara.
ME: I’ll text you. Don’t text me. It’s too dangerous.
With a deep breath, I ended the text and swiftly deleted the thread, my fingers moving with practiced urgency. The thought of Dmitri discovering my contact with Chloe filled me with dread; he would surely drag me back to those nightmarish torture chambers. Clutching the cell, I realized I needed to hold onto it just a bit longer, despite the peril. I had to know if Chloe could reach Angelo.
“Think, think, think, Lara,” I whispered fiercely to myself, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
The cell needed a hiding place; somewhere no prying eyes would uncover it. If Dmitri ever learned I had taken it, his wrath would be swift and merciless. Remembering how Marta had carelessly left it in the kitchen, I decided it was the safest spot. With a final, determined nod, I powered off the cell and slipped silently back inside the mansion.
I exhaled a sigh of relief as I stepped into the kitchen, my tension dissipating upon discovering that Marta was no longer present. The room was quiet, save for the subtle hum of the refrigerator. I noticed the firmly shut pantry door, reassured that she wasn’t hidden inside, meticulously taking inventory.
Pulling the door open, I surveyed the compact room, which was crammed with rows of canned goods, vibrant spices, and an assortment of other kitchen essentials. My mind raced as I searched for the perfect spot to conceal her cell phone. Mygaze landed on the top shelf, where items were densely packed and seldom disturbed. With determination, I unfolded the stepladder, its metal legs clinking softly against the tiled floor, and ascended the three steps, feeling the coolness of the metal under my hands.
Once I reached the top, I carefully retrieved the cell phone from the concealed pocket of my skirt. My fingers brushed against the fabric as I double-checked that the power was switched off, ensuring no accidental alerts would betray its presence. Satisfied, I nestled the phone securely behind a large canister of flour and an unopened bag of sugar. The concealment was flawless—only a deliberate search would uncover its hiding place.
When the time was right, I would easily retrieve it and place it in a spot where Marta, with her frequent visits to this pantry, would undoubtedly notice it. She would surely assume she had absentmindedly left it there and forgotten its location, her typical hurried routine leading to such oversights.
Chapter Seventeen
Dmitri
Icouldn’t even fathom what Nazar had told me during our conversation. Giovanni Balestrini had another son. How the fuck was that even possible? For the past ten years, while the Antonov Bratva was strengthening their empire, so were the Balestrinis.
When I walked back to the mansion, my body was surging with rage. There was only one thing that could cool the fire burning inside me. I thought Lara would be in the library, since that was where she liked to spend most of her time. Finding that she wasn’t there only fueled my anger further. I knew she loved the gardens, but I had just come from there and I hadn’t seen her outside. The only other place she could be was the conservatory.
Once again, the room was empty. Where the fuck was she? As I went to the kitchen to find Marta, Lara surprised me by coming out of the pantry. When she looked up, she jumped withsurprise. I had seen this reaction before. It was one of a guilty conscience.
“What were you doing in the panty?” I questioned, watching her move away from the pantry door to busy herself by opening the fridge.
“I was looking for something to snack on,” she replied in a defensive tone.
I know it was a lie since we ate less than an hour ago and I had to force her to eat even then. I had seen that look on her face before. It was the same one she had when I found her in my study.
For no other reason other than my shitty mood, I walked toward her, closed the fridge door, and took hold of her hand. Without giving her a reason, I led her out of the kitchen.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice echoing through the grand hallway as she hurried to match my stride.
“It’s a surprise,” I replied, my heart pounding with anticipation. The thought of what I had planned for her made my blood race.
I led her through the opulent foyer, her heels clicking against the polished marble floors. The grand staircase swept up ahead of us, and I could feel her curiosity piqued as we ascended, her hand brushing against the cool, ornate railing. Once we reached our bedroom, I pulled her inside and turned to lock the door, the soft click echoing through the room. Not for her, but to ensure no unwanted interruptions from the staff.
