Page 33 of His Darkest Obsession
The women around me pause and glance between us, unsure of what is about to happen. And if I'm being honest, I have no idea either. All I know is that by using that name, I'm bothering him much more than he's willing to show.
And the knowledge that I can get under his skin is emboldening me in ways that I didn't think were possible.
So, I stare back at him as he stands close to me. "Isn't that why you chose to marry me? Because it'sinappropriate?"
"Did Svetlana teach you that name?"
I press my lips together, refusing to answer. Even though I wouldn't ever say that Svetlana is a friend, I don’t want to get her in trouble.
Anatoly's eyes narrow at my silence. "Svetlana has overstepped her place."
My stomach twists with worry. Will he hurt her for that, like he did with that guard who dared to look at me? But something about the way he says it—annoyed rather than truly angry—makes me doubt he'll actually harm her.
He snaps his fingers, the sharp sound making me flinch. "Bring the dresses," he commands the seamstresses, who hurry to wheel the rack closer.
He turns back to me. "Choose one."
I stare at the collection of white dresses, each more beautiful than the last. This should be one of the happiest moments in my life: choosing my wedding dress.
But all I feel is hollowness, coldness, and a crushing loneliness.
My fingers trail along the fabrics—silk, satin, lace, tulle. Some sleekly elegant, others princess-like with full skirts. Most are tasteful, expensive, and modest. But they're not what I'm looking for.
I want something that will annoy him.
Then I see it.
A dress with a plunging neckline that will reach nearly to my navel, a slit up the leg, and cutouts at the waist. It's elegant yet revealing, and guaranteed to draw every man's eye in the room.
And judging by the way he kicked that guard in the chest for daring to look at me, I'm willing to bet that he'llhatethe idea of everyone else staring at me in this dress.
I pull it from the rack and show it to him. "I like this one."
Anatoly's jaw tightens as he studies the dress, and then quickly dart his eyes over at me as if he's imagining how I might look in it. His hand starts tapping at his thigh, and his nostrils widen ever so slightly. Then, he steps closer, and the overwhelming heat of his body almost forces me to take a step back.
And when I don't, his eyes darken dangerously.
"Pick another one,” he says. “An appropriate one."
"I thought you liked it when I'm being inappropriate," I tilt my head, looking directly into his eyes.
His jaw clenches, a muscle twitching along that perfect jawline. Good. I'm getting to him.
I spin around dramatically, flipping my hair so that it slaps him in the face as I clutch the revealing dress close to my chest.
"Iwilltry this one," I announce to the seamstresses.
Then, I stare at Anatoly's stormy reflection in the mirror and raise my eyebrows innocently.
"Shouldn't you leave for this? It's bad luck to see a bride in her dress before the wedding day."
His powerful fingers find my shoulders before I can react, and my heart starts racing a mile a minute. His presence overwhelms my vision and makes him seem bigger and more intimidating than before. But I won't let him intimidate me, not now.
His jaw tightens and he takes another step closer. One hand remains on my shoulder, burning me through the fabric of my clothes. The other moves down to squeeze the revealing white dress as if he wants to rip it to pieces.
"If you want to be an inappropriate bride wearing an inappropriate dress." His yes burn and his voice drops to a dangerous whisper that sends a burst of heat rushing down my sides with every syllable. "Then I'll be an inappropriate groom and watch you change into it."
My breath wavers like a blade of grass caught in a storm. A hot shiver breaks out along my spine as he steps closer until all space disappears between us. His shirt brushes against mine, and my nipples tingles in anticipation at the thought of him watching me change.
