Page 71 of Sweet Obsession
And the kisses.
God, those kisses.
Rough and raw. Like he wanted to devour me and save me all at once. Like I was the only thing in the world that could undo him, and that terrified him.
The pierogi disaster. Him quietly burning half the batch beside me but eating every single one like they were gourmet.
His shoulder brushing mine, heat bleeding into my skin, his hand stalling over the dough like it reminded him of something long buried.
And the necklace. That damn photograph. The way his voice broke, just slightly when he said, “She wore it until the day she died.”
He could’ve ordered me to make one for his mother. Threatened me. But he hadn’t. He’d just looked at me. Like I was the last real thing left in a world that had taken everything from him.
And for one unbearable second, I wondered, was the man I was running from really the devil? Or just another prisoner, like me, born of blood and obligation?
I hadn’t been afraid when he touched me. Not once. And I hated myself for that. I clenched my fists in my lap, nails biting into my palms. Trying to hold on to the version of him I was supposed to hate.
Because the truth, the dangerous, stupid truth, was slipping through my fingers. And if I didn’t run now, I might never run at all.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered to no one. “If Misha Petrov wants a war, he’ll get one.” Cause I sure as hell was never coming back here. Once the funeral was over, I’d disappear with my sister. Gone, for good.
Chapter 10
MISHA
The first clue was the silence. Not the kind that comes with snow. The kind that comes with betrayal.
I was in the east wing, finalizing the shipment routes for the Irkustk handoff, when Nikolai slammed the doors open, breath steaming, eyes wild.
“Boss.” His voice cracked. “She’s gone.”
A beat passed before the words hit. Then they detonated.
“Who?” I asked anyway, already knowing the answer.
“Luna.”
His voice was quieter now. Almost guilty.
“She’s not in her quarters. Her clothes, what little she brought, they’re gone. Chernov’s jet took off three hours ago. Private clearance, no trail.”
Three. Fucking. Hours.
The schedule slipped from my hand.
I stood slowly. “Flight path?”
“Scrubbed. But the heading... silence on all traffic logs... it’s Colombia.”
I turned toward the window. Snow blurred the pane like static.
She left me. Not for another man. Not for freedom. She ran home. To the same gilded prison she once begged to escape.
She ran back to the devil she knew, because she thought it safer than the one she married.
I grabbed my coat. And my gun. There’s only one thing worse than betrayal. Betrayal that walks out in silence. I told her to stay the fuck away from Chernov.
That snake has back doors built into everything. And now she’s using them to crawl out from under me.
