Page 31 of Sweet Obsession
The way the music stuttered to a stop. The way the dancers froze mid-twirl. The way the guards began speaking rapidly into radios, faces taut.
Yuri stiffened beside me, the champagne glass in his hand tilting slightly before he caught it. Across the ballroom, Papa’s face was tight, his smile stretched too wide, too false.
Whispers rose like smoke through the room. Guests began filtering toward the exits, confusion and fear rippling in their wake.
Something had shifted. Something irreversible.
I didn’t know how I knew. But I did. I felt it in my bones.
Papa beckoned me with a flick of his hand, sharp and commanding.
I followed stiffly, weaving through the thinning crowd, the hem of my dress whispering against the marble.
Yuri trailed behind, looking just as confused.
We stepped into the smaller parlor off the ballroom, the one reserved for private deals and whispered threats.
Misha Petrov was already there. Sitting casually in an armchair, legs stretched out, hands laced over his stomach.
Like a king waiting for someone to kneel. I didn’t kneel.
I stood there, spine straight, pulse hammering against my throat.
“Plans have changed,” Papa said, smoothing a hand down his jacket like it could erase the tension crackling in the air.
I stared at him. Waiting. Dreading.
“You will not marry Yuri,” he continued. “Another agreement has been reached.”
I blinked once. Twice.
The world shifted sideways.
“What?” I croaked, the word barely leaving my lips.
“Misha Petrov has made a counteroffer. A better one.” Papa’s voice was cold and final. “You will leave with him today. To Russia.”
Today? Not tomorrow. Not in a week.
Today.
I opened my mouth, to scream, to argue, to beg. I didn’t know.
But Misha’s gaze pinned me to the floor. Heavy. Icy. Final.
“You can pack whatever you need,” Papa said, dismissively. “You’ll have everything else you require there.”
“I’m not a suitcase,” I said, voice trembling. “You can’t just...”
“Enough,” Papa snapped. “You’ve caused enough problems. You’re lucky we found a buyer at all. Misha’s deal is the only thing saving this family right now.”
A buyer? Like livestock. Like a product.
I stumbled back a step, the breath punched from my lungs.
This wasn’t happening.
Not to me.
