Page 71 of Cruel Obsession

In the safety of my room, I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window and take a shuddering breath. My bodystill carries the ghost of his touch, still wants more despite how much he scared me.

Arkady is right. This should never have happened.

He isn’t just my employer—he’s something darker. A man with secrets that turn him feral when threatened. A man connected to the Russian underworld in ways I don’t quite understand, a world filled with distant violence I pretend not to be aware of. A man who creates sanctuaries for the dead and locks them away from the world.

Until I can figure out my next move, I’ll keep my head down and my questions to myself. Lips zipped. And other parts too. Specifically, my throbbing pussy.

But even as I make this resolution, my mind replays the way his hands felt on my body, the way he’d whispered Russian words against my skin as he moved inside me. The way his eyes had warmed in those precious moments before I ruined everything.

Some doors are meant to stay locked. Some secrets have teeth.

And some men—like Arkady Laurov—are addictive despite the danger they promise.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Arkady

The highway stretches ahead, an empty ribbon against the morning sky.

My knuckles tighten on the leather steering wheel as a Spotify true-crime podcast fills the space around me.

“Welcome back to the show. Today, we’re diving into a really unsettling topic that’s been making headlines across the country. In the past six months, we’ve seen over a dozen young people—mostly girls and young women aged 16 to 26—disappear without a trace. Authorities are investigating potential foul play, but right now, there are no solid leads. It’s a grave situation, and we urge parents to keep a close eye on their kids. To shed light on this issue, we have a special guest joining us today…”

He goes on to give details, each one leaving me sick to my stomach.

I slam the audio off, a curse tearing from my throat. “Blyad!”

I can’t stand the thought of innocents being abused. Heat rushes through my veins, the familiar rage a living thing.

My father’s face materializes in my mind—that cold smile when discussing “merchandise.” The same fucking smile he wore when handing me my first gun at fifteen. The one that killed Mishka.

I force a breath into my lungs. Two. Three. Control is survival.

He says he’s out of that world now. I’d like to believe him. But it still sickens me to know that he used to be involved in it. If he weren’t my father, I would have ended him the day I found out.

I turn my attention back to the road, the powerful engine chewing up miles.

The Empire Royale towers in the skyline ahead, its glass facade catching the morning light, mirrored windows glittering. My casino. My fortress. The gleaming front that gives my life an air of respectability.

The security team drops their eyes as I pass, that perfect balance of respect and fear. The morning staff scatters like startled birds. My office door closes behind me with a whisper of expensive hinges, and I’m alone with the weight of what I know. What I’m fighting. What I’ve done.

I move through the morning like a machine. Make calls. Review footage. Dissect intelligence on the other families’ latest movements. The cogs that keep a crime syndicate moving.

All in a day’s work.

The intercom disrupts my focus as I pore over a ledger detailing the casino’s weekly takings.

“Mr. Laurov.” My secretary’s voice carries a note of apology. “Rosanna Tulikova is here. She says it’s urgent.”

Chert voz’mi.

Fucking perfect.

My jaw locks. “Tell her it’s a bad time.”

There’s a pause as she pulls in an anxious breath. “I think it’s important, sir. She seems… upset.”

Of course she is. She’s just been orphaned.