Page 53 of Cruel Obsession

The door closes behind him, and I’m left with the simmering rage that’s become my constant companion. Sergei thinks he can come after me? After my business? The business I built without my father’s help, without dirtying my hands with trafficking?

He’s about to learn what happens when you provoke a Laurov.

I move to the window, staring out at the forest surrounding Ashwater. My sanctuary. My fortress. The one place where I’ve managed to keep the darkest parts of myself contained.

A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.

“Enter,” I command without turning.

The door opens. “You wanted to see me?” Her voice is steady, professional, giving no indication of our earlier encounter.

I turn slowly. She stands just inside the doorway, her simple black uniform hugging her curves. Her hair is pulled back, revealing the vulnerable line of her neck where it meets her shoulder. I imagine setting my teeth there, marking her where anyone could see. Claiming her in the most primitive way.

Focus, doboyob.

“I’m leaving for Las Vegas tonight,” I say, moving behind my desk, putting distance between us. “Business. I’ll be gone three days, possibly four.”

“I see.” She clasps her hands in front of her, a picture of composure except for the slight flush crawling up her throat. “Should I prepare anything for your trip?”

“My man will handle it.”

She nods once. “Alright. Is there anything specific you need me to manage while you’re away?”

“Anfisa knows the routine.” I study her face, searching for any trace of our earlier interaction. Any sign that she’s still thinking about what she saw. “Maintain your regular duties. And stay away from the east wing.”

Her chin lifts slightly. A challenge. “As you wish.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Mirabel.” I step closer, watching her pupils dilate, hearing the catch in her breath. “The east wing is off limits when I’m not here. Especially to someone who can’t resist opening things that don’t belong to her.”

The flush deepens, spreading across her cheeks. Heat rising to meet heat.

“I understand,” she says, voice softer.

“Do you?” I move closer still. “Because if I come back and find you’ve been snooping again, there will be consequences.”

Her eyes flash with something dangerous—defiance, maybe. Or desire. “What kind of consequences?”

For a second, I let myself imagine exactly what those consequences would look like—my hand wrapped in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. My mouth on her skin, teeth scraping the tender flesh beneath her jaw. Her wrists pinned above her head as I show her exactly what happens to people who challenge me. Her body arching as I push inside her, taking what I’ve wanted since that dress split in front of me.

I’d make her say my name. NotMr. Laurov. Arkady. I’d make her scream it until her voice gave out.

Instead, I step back. “Let’s hope you won’t have to find out.”

She swallows, the movement drawing my attention to the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. “Is there anything else?”

“No.” I turn back to the window, dismissing her. “That’s all.”

I listen to her footsteps retreat, the click of the door as she closes it behind her. Only then do I exhale, loosening the grip I’ve maintained on my control.

Three days away. Three days to deal with Sergei Tulikov. Three days to remember why Mirabel McLeod is off-limits.

No matter how badly I want her.

Chapter Seventeen

Mirabel

The list of “urgent tasks” weighs down the pocket of my apron—Arkady’s parting gift before his Vegas trip. Tasks that would be impossible for one person with normal human limitations to complete in three days. I unfold it again, scanning the bold handwriting that somehow manages to convey his commanding presence even on paper.