Page 29 of Captured Obsession

“I fucking hate you so much,” she seethes.

I bet she does. I bet it frustrates her as much as it does me, knowing how much we disrupt one another the moment we’re within the other’s proximity. All I want to do is fuck her breathless again, marking every perfect inch of her in the process.

“You’ll be having dinner with me tonight,” I order.

“Like fuck I will.”

My smile only widens. “Then shall you continue your stroll, and not worry as to what happens to these fine men?”

She glances over my shoulder at where the two men attempt to recover from our bout, and then at Andrei, who remains a stoic statue, watching our exchange.

Of all the things I could request, I never thought it would be a simple dinner. But it gives me great joy athow much it clearly pisses her off. Her heart is too big and merciful for a place like this, and I can’t help but use it against her. It is, after all, what I’m good at.

I cockily lift my pinkie. “Do we have a deal, little doll?”

“You’re the biggest asshole I know, and trust me, I know a lot of them,” she grits out as she raises her pinkie to mine.

“Wear something nice,” I quip.

“Only if you're willing to provide stilettos with it,” she bites back.

I lean down and whisper into her ear, “You lost that privilege the night we met.”

With a hand to my chest, she pushes me away with force. “And I'll remind you that you have no privilege whatsoever to tell me what I can and can’t wear.”

My cock twitches at her scathing tongue, and I’m hit with a flash of amusement, knowing that I'm actually the exact person to tell her what she can and cannot wear.

I wipe the smile from my face, careful that those who may be watching don't see how much I'm enjoying myself. The others know not to go near her, but I don’t want them becoming more interested in her because my obsession is obvious.

I turn and walk away, in a rather upbeat mood, which is strange considering I'm not often in one. And it all has to do with the woman whose gaze I can feel burning into my back—appreciatively, I’m sure.

13

SIENNA

That guy can absolutely go fuck himself. I've never seen anyone with such calm rage in their gaze, especially when about to kill somebody. Not that I'm within the circles that kill people, but even if I were, I would be terrified of Nikolai.

Ishouldbe terrified of him.

Except, for some reason, I’m not.

I'm just pissed off at how demanding he is.

I don't even know why I went out of my way to save those two men. Who knows, perhaps he wouldn't have actually killed them, but my instinct says otherwise.

And now, here I am, wearing gray sweatpants and matching sweatshirt. I won’t dress up for somebody like Nikolai, even if he did purchase me a bunch of pretty dresses. I'm not his little fucking doll.

I try to remind myself to be more rational, but there’s just something about Nikolai that evokes the most feral side of me. All my life, there’s been pressure to be the perfect woman, but with him, I want to be everything but. It’s as if my twenty-nine years of submitting to others’ expectations has finally cracked, and I’m directing all my newfound defiance toward him. And, fuck, does it feel good even as it frustrates me.

A soft knock comes on my bedroom door, and before I can tell him that he's not welcome, Nikolai lets himself in.

He doesn't look surprised to see me in my sweats. He looks immaculate, as always, in a tight-fitted black dress shirt and slacks.

“I couldn't have handpicked a better outfit for you myself,” he says, looking mockingly over to the stacked pile of books on my bedside table. I'll be frank. I'm losing my fucking mind in here, and when Agata offered me a bunch of books written in English, I took them. “We had an agreement, did we not? Or are you a person whose word can't be trusted?”

I scoff. “That's rich coming from a literal criminal.”

He shrugs. “I've never lied about who and what I am. Now, either you come with me willingly, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder. The choice is yours.”