Page 110 of His Darkest Obsession

And how do you explain that in just two short weeks, you've not only started to catch real feelings for him, but started to feel like you might belong in his world?

If I tell Amara any of these things, she'll immediately point out just how insane all of this sounds. And truthfully, now that I'm thinking about it, theydosound insane.

But I can't justnottell her anything. Amara deserves the truth, and as she's so fond of reminding me these days: she's not a kid anymore.

"I got married," I say, my voice quieter than I intended.

Amara's eyes widen to the size of saucers. "You what?" She leans forward and grabs my hands. "Miels, what the hell? To who? And when?"

I take a deep breath. "To Anatoly Baryshev. Two weeks ago. Remember when I texted you not to come home?"

"Yeah?" Amara's brow furrows.

I swallow hard. "That was right before my wedding."

"Excuse me?" She jumps to her feet. "Miels, have you completely lost your mind? Why the hell did you even agree to this?"

I smile sadly at Amara's question. "Did I have a choice? Not really."

Amara's face falls and she leans toward me with growing concern in her eyes. "Miels, are you being kept here against your will? Is he hurting you?"

"It's complicated, but... it's not all bad." The words sound ridiculous even as they leave my mouth, but they're true in a way I never expected.

Heat rushes to my face as flashes from last night suddenly cross my mind—Anatoly's hands pinning mine above my head, his mouth trailing down my body, the way he held me in his powerful arms in the shower while impaling me with his cock.

"You didn’t answer my question." Amara's voice cuts through my thoughts, her expression increasingly anxious. “Are you being kept here against your will?”

I clear my throat. "No, I'm not being kept here against my will. And no, he's not hurting me."

Amara narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. "If you're not being held here against your will, then why haven't you come home? Why couldn't I go back to our apartment after you disappeared?"

"It's for your protection?—"

"Protection from what?" Amara throws her hands up. "I've been worried sick! I even went down to?—"

"The barbershop, I know," I interrupt, completing her thought. "I know you've been looking for me."

Guilt claws at my insides. I've forsaken my sister right when she needs me most. I did the very thing I swore I'd never do after our parents died.

Amara goes silent, her face paling slightly. "How do you know about that?"

I hesitate, then decide there's no point hiding it anymore. "Svetlana has been watching over you for the past week."

"Watching over me?" Amara's voice rises. "What are you talking about?"

I take a deep breath, knowing I can't keep the truth from her any longer. She deserves to know what kind of world she's just stepped into.

But just how much should I tell her? The whole truth would be terrifying. Not only about Anatoly, but about me as well. I can't tell her the fact that I watched Anatoly beat a man to death and then shoot another on my orders.

Or that I enjoyed watching him do it.

No. Some things are better left unsaid.

But then again, I can't just not tell her exactly what kind of man I married. Complete lies is an insult her intelligence. And even if Icouldlie to her, she deserves to know some truths.

And maybe that's what I'll tell her.

Some truths. Not all.