Page 2 of His Darkest Obsession
But certain phrases jump out: "hereby agrees not to disclose," "confidentiality agreement," and "legally binding."
"What...” I finally find my voice, and I hate how it sounds so raspy and small. “What is this?"
"It's an NDA." Ryan glances at his watch. "Standard procedure."
My jaw drops. I look up at this man who I thought I loved. A man that I thought loved me.
"You really think I would tell?"
Are you really about to do this to me?
Ryan's face hardens, and whatever trace of the charming boyfriend I once knew vanishes completely.
"It's not about whether I think you would tell or not. It's just so everything is squared away." He gestures vaguely. "Dot all the i's and cross all the t's. You know how it is."
I stare back down at the paper. My hands are shaking harder now.
"Just sign the damn thing," Ryan says, impatience edging into his tone.
I don't move. I can't. Something in me knows that once I sign this, there will be no going back. Even though I know that I already can’t go back, there’s a part of me that desperately wants to hold onto the fiction that there still is a way.
That this might somehow just be a bad dream I can still wake up from.
Ryan's snaps his fingers at the lawyer for a pen and shoves it in my hands.
"You need to sign this," he says, voice low and insistent. "Now."
I realize there's nothing else I can do. No way out. Slowly but inevitably, I sign the bottom of the NDA, feeling like I might as well be signing my own death warrant.
Ryan snatches the document back and reads it over it with a satisfied smile.
"Perfect." He turns to the doctor and extends his hand. "Thank you for your discretion, doctor."
The doctor hesitates. "Ms. Taylor should really understand the follow-up procedures?—"
"If there's anything we need to know," Ryan interrupts smoothly. "It'll go to my father's office." His smile evaporates. "You do know who my father is, don't you, doctor?"
The doctor swallows visibly. "Yes, of course, Mr. Bennet."
"Great. We're done here." Ryan grabs me by my wrist hand and yanks me to my feet. "It's time for you to leave."
1
ANATOLY
My reflection ghostsover the New York skyline sprawling out before my office. The late afternoon sun bathes everything in shades of amber and gold, and casts long shadows between the buildings.
From up here, the light is beautiful yet cold.
Like everything else in my life.
The door opens without a knock, and my brother Roma's face joins mine in the ghostly reflection. At a glance, we look similar enough. Both of us have our father’s characteristic blue eyes. The only difference is our hair. Mine takes after father’s whiskey brown. Roma’s is dirtied with streaks of gold, a gift from our mother Valentina that he has used to his advantage on more women than either of us care to count.
"Have you even looked at the seating arrangements for your wedding yet?" He starts immediately without giving me a chance to reprimand him for not knocking first.
My wedding.
Of-fucking-course that’s why Roma is here.
