Page 121 of His Darkest Obsession

Fuck, I hate this.

"The NDA," I interrupt Roma mid-sentence and finally turn to face him. “Have you found out anything about it?”

I'm not even trying to pretend this is purely business anymore. I just want to hear about her, to understand what happened, to have an excuse to think about Indigo while still making it seem like I'm doing this for the bratva. It beats spiraling in my own thoughts.

"It definitely exists," he says. "It's exactly like you said. Between an Amelia Taylor and Grant Bennet. But the contents are locked behind multiple court orders."

"So?" I raise an eyebrow, impatience flaring.

"So." Roma sighs, setting down his glass. "Short of outright intimidating judges and lawyers—which would draw way too much fucking attention—there's very little I can do."

I slam my glass onto the desk. "I gave you a fucking order, Roma."

"And some orders are impossible," Roma says. "Even for me. You asked me to look into this with one hand tied behind my fucking back."

"And since when has that ever stopped you before?"

But Roma doesn't back down. "I understand your need to find out about the contents. But have you given any thought to the fact that maybe some things should stay buried?"

"I don'twantthis buried," I bite back, my hand tightening around the empty glass. "I need to know."

And it's the fucking truth.

I'm drowning in my own obsession. Every time I look at those scars on Indigo's thighs, I feel like I'm staring at a lock without a key. Her body tells a story that her lips refuse to speak.

And it's fucking killing me not knowing the specifics of the details.

I need to understand what broke my wife. Destroying Bennet is just the cherry on top. Because not knowing means that there will always be a barrier between us. Not knowing is a silent admission that she still doesn't trust me, somewhere deep down inside of her.

Yes, we fuck, we laugh, and we talk... but until I know, that shadow will always loom over us. She'll always hold a part of herself away from me.

I can't blame her.

But I can't stand it either.

How can I truly protect her if I don't know what I'm protecting her from? How can I claim to be her husband when I don't know the whole woman I married? And most importantly…

How can I right the wrongs of her past, if I have no idea what that past even holds?

The irony isn't lost on me. I forced her into this marriage, and now I'm the one desperate for it to be real.

"I'm not asking for your opinion on what should stay buried," I tell Roma, my voice flat. "I'm asking why you didn't fulfill your pakhan's fucking orders."

Bennet is already in our pocket. He won the election. And the knowledge that youmightknow what's in that NDA is enough to keep him in line." Roma leans back, frustration creeping into his voice to match mine. "Does it even matter at this point?"

"It matters to me," I growl.

"More than what the Bratva needs? More than the war with the Volkovs?" Roma challenges. "The bratva needs you tolead, not seclude yourself in this mansion while you busy yourself with unearthing your wife's past."

"You're about to cross a fucking line, Roma," I warn, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"I'm about to cross a fucking line? What about you?" But Roma doesn't back down. He steps closer, his eyes hard. "You've fucking crossed that line the day you told me you were going to marry her. Have you forgotten what you are? Do you still know what fucking matters? Whatreallymatters?"

The question hangs in the air between us. My jaw clenches so tight I can feel my teeth grinding.

"Of course I do," I say finally.

"Do you?" Roma presses, unwavering. "Because I don't fucking believe it, Tolya. I don't fucking believe that you still remember that we have nothing without the bratva. Or that the bratva must come first before all else. You know the words as well as I do."