Page 59 of Sweet Obsession
The next morning, Viktor, my consigliere, older than most, trusted more than any, drove us through the frozen bones of Yakutsk toward the Volograd estate.
Snow blurred the edges of the world, softening the decay.
Luna sat beside me in silence, her arms wrapped tight across her chest, the sharp set of her jaw angled toward the window.
“This is the estate?” she asked, finally. Her breath fogged the glass.
“It was supposed to be a cultural center,” Viktor answered. “Before the wars. Before families like yours sold out the East. But now, we’ll turn it into something useful.”
Her brows knit. “And what exactly is ‘useful’?”
I smirked. “Money. Power. Stability. Everything your family pissed away.”
She didn’t reply. But her glare cut deep. Good. Let her hate me. Hatred was safe. Hatred meant I could keep my hands to myself.
We stepped inside.
Dust. Steel. Voices echoing off cracked marble. Dozens of workers moved like ants across the vast skeleton of the estate, laying wiring, hauling security systems, welding steel into new foundations.
A man leaned against one of the old pillars, arms crossed, smirking like he owned the ruin.
Chernov.
Odessa royalty. Heir to one of the Five Bratva families. The Odessa family controlled the eastern ports and half the black-market arms flowing through the Pacific corridor. They are ruthless and untouchable.
And just as powerful as me.
Chernov’s suit was sharp. He was there at the last Bratva council. Watching her then too. The way his eyes trailed her as she entered at my side, calculating and possessive.
Now, he was here again. Watching her like prey.
I saw him before Luna did. Saw the flicker of hunger in his gaze. And I stepped closer to her instinctively, shielding her with my body.
His smile sharpened when he noticed. “Misha,” he said, voice like oil on ice. “Back so soon. And you’ve brought your stunning bride again.”
His eyes didn’t leave her. Not for a second. “I have to say, she wears captivity beautifully.”
Luna stiffened beside me. I didn’t let him take another step.
“Careful,” I said, low and quiet. “You know how territorial I am.”
He laughed under his breath, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just making conversation,” Chernov said. Then, to Luna, his tone dipped lower, darker. “You know... alliances aren’t always binding. Some women learn that early. They learn they have options.”
Her hand found mine. Small. Cold. Trembling. Not by mistake. I gripped her hand—firm, possessive. A warning to both of them.
“She already made her choice,” I said. “And she understands what it costs to walk away.”
Chernov’s mouth curled. Not quite a smile. Not quite done. “Of course,” he said, mock-bowing. “For now.”
He turned and walked off slowly, like a man who didn’t fear me. Like he expected to see her again.
The Odessa family had more ports and men than three of the five Bratva families combined. If I let him make a move on her without consequence, the others would see it as weakness. And weakness gets people killed.
I didn’t watch him go. I watched her. Because it wasn’t just protectiveness that burned through me. It was jealousy.
Ugly. Violent. Mine.
The way her hand slipped from mine a second too late. The way she swallowed hard, like her throat burned.
