Page 105 of His Darkest Obsession

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.”