Page 40 of His Darkest Obsession (Baryshev Bratva #1)

ANATOLY

Indigo’s hair is fanned across the pillow and her breaths come out slow and deep as she sleeps. I stroke one finger down her bare shoulder and watch the goosebumps rise in its wake.

We had sex again after our heartbeats returned to normal, and we kept fucking each other until dawn spread rosy fingers across the sky and the sun started peeking over the distant horizon.

I spent what felt like hours feasting between her legs, lapping at the sweetness of her pussy and kissing each scar on her thigh while my hands held her legs tightly against my face.

When I entered her the second time, I made sure to go slow and gentle so that she can savor the moment until her voice faded away into incoherent whimpers as she came again and again on my mouth.

That time, I pulled out of her right before I came, spilling my cum like a line of pearls on her body. And when I leaned back, panting, she scooped every drop into her mouth before she wrapped her lips around my cock to bring me back for another round.

The third time, we fucked like animals on the floor.

Her on all fours, and me with my hand wrapped around her throat and my tongue tasting the salt of her sweat.

She reached back that time, holding me in place by the nape of my neck like she’s afraid that if she were to let go, I might disappear and never come back.

I came on her ass that time, and even left a few drops on her blue hair.

After that, we walked into the shower, turned the water all the way up and fucked again under the hot water.

That time, she rode me as she drained the air from my lungs with one deep-tongued kiss after another.

And when I shot my load all across my torso, she lapped it up eagerly under the warm water without ever breaking eye contact.

When we finished that time, I washed away all the trace of our lovemaking, ran my hand through her blue hair so that I might see hints of her natural coppery red, and kissed her until she begged me to fuck her again.

And I did.

I held her up in midair and let her impale herself on my cock beneath the water until both of us were sated and spent. When we finally shut the water off, she curled up in my arms and allowed me to carry her gently to bed.

Outside, the sky is slowly turning brighter and brighter with every breath and every heartbeat. But I continue sitting here, marveling at this beautiful woman who continues to surprise me at every turn.

This beautiful woman whom the world seems determined to wrong and hurt.

Even in sleep, her mouth holds a hint of defiance, and her lips are slightly pursed as if she’s ready to argue. I can still taste those lips even now, sweet with a bite of something sharper underneath.

Like everything about her.

She jerks in her sleep, murmuring as she does so. Without a second thought, I brush my lips over her forehead. That seems to have calmed her, and her breathing returns back to the rhythm of deep slumber.

A dull buzzing sound, rhythmic and pulsing, sounds somewhere in the room. And it’s only when I glance at the direction of our clothes that I realize that it’s my phone.

I glance back at my wife, reluctant to tear myself away from the image of perfection, but my phone keeps ringing.

Bylat.

Annoyed, I peel away from her side, walk over to my pile of clothes, and pull out my phone.

The moment I see the number, annoyance gives way to anger.

Grant Bennet.

And this isn’t the first fucking time that he’s called me tonight.

I look back at Indigo one final time and then back at my phone. I need to answer. This is what this entire marriage was leading up to.

It’s funny. Now that what I set out to do is literally in my hands, I no longer have the desire to do it.

But I have to.

For her.

The mansion is still quiet at sunrise. My bare feet make no sound as I pad down the hallway to my office and lock the door behind me after I enter. I sink into the leather chair behind my desk, feeling the weight of the phone in my hand.

And like fucking clockwork, Bennet calls again.

What the fuck did you do, you piece of shit? I snarl in my head.

But guessing will get me nowhere.

So, I hit answer.

" You were supposed to kill her, damn it!" Bennet's voice—tight with barely controlled panic—greets me the moment I put my phone to my ear. “Not flaunt her in public, much less right in front of me.”

I lean back in my chair. To an outsider, it might seem like I’m using silence as a way to intimidate him. To make him rant and rave and stammer to complete the humiliation that I’m about to inflict.

But the truth is far simpler.

I’m so fucking furious at him that I know if I tried to say anything, it’ll only be a threat to end his fucking worthless life.

And as much as I hate it, I know that I still need him in my pocket.

“Well?” He barks. “Say something!”

"I'm altering the deal," I finally answer, and even I can hear the anger seeping into every syllable.

Another beat of silence on the line. I can almost hear the gears turning in his political brain, calculating risks, weighing options, wondering how fucked he truly is.

"What do you fucking want?"

To destroy you. To break you. To hurt you.

Instead, I say, “I still want the original terms of what you were offering me.”

Bennet breathes heavily on the other end as the words start sinking in.

“My people in key positions across the city. Sanitations. Fire department. Buildings and business permits. Police commissioner."

I can practically taste the quiet, helpless rage on the other end. It’s that of a man who once thought himself untouchable.

"And if I don’t?"

"Then you lose the election," I reply. "Lose the protection that you’ve sought out from every fucking person because you’ll become just another ordinary man. And ordinary men die all the fucking time in this city.”

Bennet's voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "Are you threatening me, you Russian prick?”

“I don’t make threats, Grant.”

“Just what the fuck did she tell you?”

“She told me enough.”

No she hasn’t. Not by a fucking long shot.

“She’s a goddamn liar,” he snaps.

“Yet you’ve been blowing up my phone all night,” I reply smoothly. “Maybe I ought to go public with this.”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, there’s no need. But I have my own terms to set.”

“You’re not exactly in a position to make demands of me, Grant.”

“No, I’m not,” he concedes. “But you’re not standing on solid ground either. Taras Volkov came to visit me before your little stunt last night. He—”

“I know what Taras offered you. You and I both know that it’s not enough. Not if you lose.”

A long, tense silence fills the line, broken only by what sounds like ice clinking in a glass. Bennet is drinking this morning.

Good. Let him drown in his fear.

“Right.” He breaks the silence first. “Like I said, neither of us are standing on solid ground. You’ve put all your trust in that girl, and me… Well, I don’t think I need to tell you what I’ve put my trust in.”

“And your point is?”

“My point.” The bite returns to his voice. “Is that you need me to win my election if you want to have the original terms of what I offered. But that’s your problem, isn’t it?”

Ice sloshes on the other end, and I can practically hear Bennet grimace over the phone as he drains his glass.

“If I win my election, there’s nothing that’s stopping me from giving what I promised you to Taras Volkov instead.”

“No, there’s not.” I nod.

“Which means you have no leverage. Neither you or that little whore of yours.”

Whore. My hand balls into a fist and slams down on the table before I can stop myself.

“And if you lose your election,” I snarl. “There will be nothing to stop me from ripping you apart limb by limb!”

“But that won’t get you what you want, Baryshev.”

“You don’t know what I want, you piece of shit.”

I want you dead at my feet. I want your hands on a fucking plate that I can give my wife.

“I’ve dealt with pricks like you my entire fucking career,” Bennet snaps. “You all want the same thing: money, bitches, and booze. And you all think you can get it by blackmailing men like me.”

I force my anger back down. There will be a time for that later. He’s just trying to get a rise out of me in the hopes that I slip up and show my hand.

“Then in that case, I think we’re done here. I’m sure the New York Post would love to publish an exposé about you right now, especially if it comes with a hefty donation to their office.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Shall we find out?”

“No!” Bennet says quickly, panic lacing back into his voice. “No, there’s no need to do that. I’ll do it. Just send me the list of names. I’ll make it happen. But…”

“But?”

“But it needs to happen after the election,” he says. “I need to know that you’re not going to do something fucking stupid in the next four weeks. Once I win, the city is yours. I swear. But I need to win for that to happen.”

I mull over his words.

Four weeks… A part of me wants to tell him to fuck off. But another part of me recognizes that he’s not necessarily wrong.

Because like it or not, I do need him to win if I want total control over the city. That’s why I married Indigo, isn’t it? To get control over this city. To put Bennet in my pocket. And once I do that, I’ll put him in the ground anyways.

For her.

The terms of his execution have been set. We’re just quibbling over the exact moment that it’ll happen.

I suspect he knows that as well, and he’s taking every possible action he can to prolong what little time he has left on this earth.

“Fine. But if I so much as get a whiff that you’re trying to go back on this deal—”

“I’m not,” he interrupts me. “Unlike you, some of us stick by our word.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Grant.” I reply smoothly, then end the call without another word.

I set the phone down, and let an impotent man’s empty words hang in the air. One thing is for sure. This isn't over.

Not by a long shot.

Even without the full knowledge of what Indigo knows from that internship, I have Grant Bennet by his fucking balls. And whatever she witnessed during that internship, it was enough for Bennet to pull as many strings as he could to keep her silent. To send cops to kill her parents.

To make her feel so fucking scared that she had to change everything about herself, erase herself from existence, and leave those awful scars on her thigh because she thinks she’s the one who did something wrong.

I curl my fingers into a fist so tight my knuckles crack.

Yes, I’ll give Grant Bennet the opportunity to win the election. I’ll even give him the time he needs to give me the city.

But once that’s done, I will kill him.

And after he’s dead…

"I will give you his hands," I whisper to the empty room as if Indigo is here with me.