Page 47 of Cruel Obsession

The strength in that small gesture—refusing to collapse completely even in private—stirs something dangerous in me.

I should look away. Should give her this moment of privacy. But I can’t tear my eyes from the screen as she organizesher things with quiet determination, every movement speaking of a woman who refuses to be broken.

She disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The sound of running water filters through the speakers.

My finger hovers over the button that would switch to the bathroom camera—a camera I had installed during construction but have never activated. Never needed to. Never wanted to cross that line.

Until now.

“Chert Voz’mi.”I pull my hand back sharply. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never been tempted like this—to violate someone’s privacy so completely.

I switch off the system, the screens going dark one by one until only my reflection remains, distorted in the black glass.

“Ty chertov durak!You’re a fucking fool, Laurov,” I tell it.

I pour myself two fingers of vodka, downing it in one harsh swallow that does nothing to cool the heat in my blood.

This woman is trouble. She’s been trouble since she stood at that altar and watched me walk away. Since her dress split and her skin flushed and something woke in me that I thought was dead.

Yet I brought her here anyway. Made sure she had no choice but to accept my offer.

Because for some fucking reason, I want her here. Want her under my roof, within my reach.

Maybe it’s fate—something I’ve never believed in until she walked into my life wearing a torn dress and a stubborn expression.

Whatever the fuck it is, I need to work it out of my system. Because the last thing I need right now is another complication.

Chapter Fourteen

Mirabel

The goddamn keys mock me, a jangling mass of cold metal with no labels, no color coding, no logic.

Thirty-seven keys for God knows how many locks in this monstrosity of a house. I grip them tighter, the edges biting into my palm as I stand frozen in the hallway like an idiot.

My shift hasn’t even started, and I’m already drowning.

Dad would tell me to make a plan, to approach the problem methodically. But Dad isn’t here. He’s in a hospital chair right now, poison dripping into his veins to kill the poison already inside him, while I’m clutching overpriced keys in an overpriced mansion.

“You got this, Mira,” I whisper, the sound swallowed by the cavernous corridor. “One key at a time.”

Do you, though?Debra’s voice floats through my mind, that particular mixture of challenge and affection only she could manage.This place is massive. The list of tasks is endless. When will you even sleep?

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mutter, running my thumb over the ridges of what looks like a master key.

I’m just being realistic,imaginary-Debra counters.Handymen to coordinate, renovations to supervise, miles of hardwood to polish—all for a man who looks at you like he’s calculating the most efficient way to take you apart.

“I’m doing this for Dad,” I remind her, remind myself. “Five thousand a month. Twenty thousand up front. This isn’t the time to complain.”

You’re right.Her voice softens.He needs you to be strong.

Tears sting my eyes, the hallway blurring. “You should be here with me,” I whisper. “For six years, there hasn’t been a second when I didn’t miss you. How dare you just disappear like that?”

Shh, Mirabel. Relax. Everything will be fine. You just need to be strong for now.

I shake my head abruptly, dashing the voice away. This isn’t the time to be losing my grip on reality. This is the time for—

My body registers his presence before my brain does, every nerve ending suddenly, traitorously alert. I don’t need to turn to know it’s him.