Page 57 of Cruel Obsession

And it’s totally fucked up.

Blyad.

Get it together, Laurov.

I take a slow, deliberate breath, forcing the rage back into its cage. “Okay,” I bite out. “What do you want then?”

He leans back, savoring his momentary advantage. “Send out an email of apology to everyone on the guest list. Marry mydaughter. Acknowledge the child.” His eyes narrow with cruel precision. “Get rid of the registrar chick.”

“Fuck you,” I growl.

He shrugs, then reaches for a forkful of caviar and shovels it in his mouth. “Then you’re screwed,” he says around a mouthful of dark sludge.

My lip curls in disgust.

Pizda.

“I guess we’re done here.” I stand, pushing the chair back with enough force that it scrapes across the floor. I reach for my wallet, extracting enough cash to cover his meal. “Lunch is on me.”

His eyes track the money as I slap it on the table, the gesture dismissive. His mouth contracts into a tight line.

I walk away before he can respond, feeling his stare digging between my shoulder blades. Stefan materializes at my side as I reach the main dining room, matching my stride without a word.

The air outside is cold compared to the rage still burning beneath my skin. I head to the parking lot, where the driver is waiting in the limo. I’m reaching for the door when I spot him—Sergei, moving toward his own vehicle, parked just two spaces from mine. Bad fucking luck.

He notices me at the same moment. Our eyes connect across the asphalt, and his expression transforms, satisfaction hardening into something malevolent.

“It’s still not too late to make the right choice, Arkady,” he calls, just loud enough to reach me. His hand touches his car door, but instead of opening it, he steps closer, voice lowering. “And I can make your decision easier. I know about your dark little secret, about killing your little brother. How do you think your reputation would be affected if that little piece of information got out?”

The world stops.

My vision tunnels. For one devastating moment, I’m fifteen again, the weight of the pistol unfamiliar in my hands, the crack of the unexpected shot thundering through the room. Mishka’s blood staining his shirt. My mother screaming, “What have you done?”

Sergei watches my face, consuming my reaction like he’s getting off on it.

“So it’s true,” he says, smirking. “You did kill him. And now you have to live with that mistake for the rest of your miserable life.”

Something dark rises in me—black, volcanic rage that burns through rational thought. I remain silent, but my hands curl tight enough that my nails break skin.

Sergei lights a cigarette, the flame illuminating the sadistic pleasure in his eyes. “I wonder. What would the other Bratva families think if they knew that?” He inhales deeply, blowing smoke that hangs between us like fog. “What would happen to your precious casino business if they knew the owner murdered his own underage brother?”

“Don’t push your luck,mudak,” I growl the warning.

He smiles, sensing I’m about to snap. “You fucking threatening me? You’re not really in a position to do that, are you?” He invades my space, the vodka on his breath making me recoil. “Let’s face it. As long as I know your dirty little secret, I own you. I can take everything—your casino, your reputation…” His smile twists into something vicious. “Or maybe I start with that pretty little housekeeper? How would you feel about her accidentally getting shot, just like your little brother?”

My world goes dark.

The mention of Mirabel—the threat carved into his words—spikes my frayed temper. My vision bleeds red at the edges, blood roars in my skull, and I taste metal on my tongue.

The careful control I’ve maintained since Mishka died, the boundaries I’ve set for myself, the line I’ve drawn between my father’s brutality and my own moral code—all of it incinerates in an instant.

Sergei Tulikov has signed his own death warrant.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

Chapter Nineteen

Mirabel