Page 53 of His Darkest Obsession

My throat tightens. The answer is almost impossible to say, like it’ll tear me apart on its way out. But I can't keep running from it. I can’t keep hiding from it. Not with him.

"Yes."

"Why?" His voice is firm but gentle.

I shake my head, tears burning behind my closed eyelids.

He releases my hands. The knife and fork clatter to the table. Then, he turns me in his lap to face him. His hands cradle my face and I finally open my eyes to meet his.

I push against his chest, creating a small space between us. "You don’t want to know the real answers. Not really. You just want something that you can blackmail Bennet with."

His eyes narrow slightly, studying me with that calculating gaze that seems to strip away my defenses.

"Am I wrong?" I challenge him.

Anatoly's hand slides from my face to rest against my neck, his thumb tracing my pulse point. The gesture is intimate and possessive. And if this is any man other than him, I might feel like I’m in danger.

But because it’s him, I feel something else.

Safe.

"You’re not wrong," he admits.

Maybe it’s the simplicity of his acknowledgement, and the absolute lack of justifications that I expected to follow. Or maybe it’s the fact that his eyes continue to drill into mine, and I can see the glimmer of real concern swimming behind the glacier blue.

Or maybe it’s the fact that hehasbeen honest with me ever since our paths crossed. From admitting that he came to the barbershop to kill me to this very moment when I press him for the truth.

And in some ways, it's comforting to know I'm just a means to an endbecausehe's honest about it.

Not like everyone else.

I place my hand over his where it rests on my neck. "You don't need to know everything to get what you want."

"Perhaps not," Anatoly concedes, his gaze softening fractionally. "But I want to know enough."

The intensity in his voice makes me believe him, and that's more terrifying than any threat he's made. I glance down at the gold band circling my finger. The visible proof that for good or ill, I’m bound to this dangerous man.

No one has ever asked about what happened. Not really. Not in a way that made me want to answer.

Maybe Anatoly deserves to know some of it. Not everything. I'll never give anyone everything. But I can give him something.

A truth offered freely rather than taken by force.

I give him a tiny nod. “Okay, I’ll tell you. Not everything.”

“Not everything,” he agrees.

I take a slow, deep breath, steadying myself as the memories I've kept locked away for two years press against the corners of my mind.

17

ANATOLY

Her delicate fingerswrap around mine, and the pulse in her neck beats delicately beneath her skin. There’s impossible fragility about her. But there’s also that quiet understated strength that I know she’s more than capable of.

A single tear clings to the corner of her eye, and I fight the urge to brush it away. Something I don’t want to acknowledge stirs in my chest as I look at her soft features.

And I wait.