Page 1 of Cruel Obsession

Chapter One

Mirabel

The name on today’s register makes Elena cross herself.

“Laurov,” she whispers, her eyes cutting to mine. “You sure you want to do this one, Mirabel?”

I glance at the entry.Arkady LaurovandRosanna Tulikova. Russian names. A big wedding party, according to the notes clipped to the file. The kind that pays well.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask, but Elena’s already walking away, her pace quickening down the marble hallway.

A coldness spreads through my chest.

I flip through the file again. High-profile guests. Venue upgrade to the Gold Room. A line-item fee that’s triple my usual rate. And at the bottom, in Elena’s tight handwriting:Security cleared. Proceed with caution.

Proceed with caution?

What the heck does that mean?

Probably that I should be giving this a wide berth. But money is money, after all, and I have bills to pay. So, I close the file, tuck it under my arm, and head to my office.

Twenty minutes until showtime. I need to get changed.

The black silk dress hangs on the back of my office door, still wrapped in the dry-cleaning plastic. I bought it three months ago—a splurge I couldn’t afford but convinced myself I needed. Something sleek. Professional. The kind of dress that would make me look like I belonged in rooms full of people who wore wealth like a second skin.

I peel off my cardigan and skirt, letting them pool on the chair, and reach for the zipper. That’s when I hear it.

Voices.

Muffled. Raised.

Coming from the antechamber next door—the room where the bride and groom are supposed to be preparing.

Don’t.

Don’t eavesdrop, Mirabel.

The warning whispers through my mind in my father’s voice. Reasonable. Tired. The same tone he used when I was twelve and got caught reading his medical files.You can’t go through life listening at doors, Mirabel. Some things aren’t meant for you.

But my feet are already moving. I cross the office in three silent steps and press my ear to the wall. The wood is cool against my cheek. I hold my breath, trying to hear better.

“How the fuck can you be pregnant, Rosanna?” The man’s voice is low, rough, vibrating with a fury so tightly controlled it makes the hairs on my arms stand up. “You said you were on the pill.”

“Pills aren’t one hundred percent effective, Arkady.” The woman’s voice is quieter. Defensive. Brittle around the edges.

“On thefewoccasions we had sex, I used a condom to be on the safe side because thefirst thingI told you was that I never wanted kids. Andyousaidyou were okay with that.” A pause. “And now, five minutes before the wedding, you’re telling me you’re pregnant, and youkept it from me?”

Silence stretches between them. I can feel it pressing against the wall, heavy and suffocating.

Then: “How far along are you?”

“About five months.”

“Blyad!” he spits out. “Five months? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You would have noticed if you’d paid the least bit of attention to me.” Rosanna grows petulant. “Why do you think Ionly ever wear loose clothes these days? Do you even look at me anymore?”

“No,” he mutters. “We don’t connect that way, and you know it.” There’s another long pause, and then: “Is it mine?”