Page 107 of His Darkest Obsession

“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 thinksshe’sthe 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, Iwillkill 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.

35

INDIGO

I wake up slowly,feeling like I've been run over by a train. Every muscle in my body aches in the most delicious way. The sheets are tangled around my legs, and when I stretch, there's a soreness between my thighs that makes me wince and smile at the same time.

Anatoly is gone. His side of the bed is empty but still warm.

God... last night.

After I begged—actually begged—him to take me, it was like something broke open between us. We couldn't stop. In the bed, on the floor, under the hot water of the shower. His hands had been everywhere, and his mouth was demanding yet gentle all at once.

I close my eyes and remember the ghost of his weight as he moved inside me. But most importantly, I remember how easily I lost control.

I should be terrified by it. For two years, control has been the only thing keeping me sane. It was the only thing keeping me and my sister alive.

But with Anatoly... it felt like letting go of a weight I've been carrying. Like I could finally breathe.

I roll over and bury my face in the pillow. It smells like him, everything from the scent of his cologne to the taste of his cum—sticky and masculine. A slow whimper escapes my lips and I bite down on the gentle fabric, wishing that he’s back here with me so that we might repeat what we did last night until the sun sets.

Is this what safety feels like? Not having to look over my shoulder every second? Not having to hide behind blue hair and a fake name?

It's strange to think that I feel safest with a man who can kill.

A man who came to kill me just days ago.

But he did more than that, didn't he? He helped me avenge my parents. He shielded me with his body and his power. He also looks at me like he sees all of me—the broken parts, the angry parts, and the parts I try to hide—and he wants them anyway.

I roll out of bed. My thighs tremble as I stand, muscles weak and watery from hours of Anatoly between them. I have to steady myself against the nightstand for a moment, catching my breath.

I glance down at the small wet stain on the sheets—evidence of where he came inside me. The thought should terrify me, but it doesn't. Not like it would have a week ago.

We're married, after all. This is real.

Well... it started as a forced arrangement. But now? Now I'm not so sure what it is.