Page 92 of His Darkest Obsession

I remember that word from when Valentina said it to me.

Whore.

She places a manicured hand against her chest before gesturing to the man beside her. "And this is my brother, Grisha."

Volkov? That sounds familiar.

And then it hits me. Memories of fingers digging into my chin, and a pair of hateful gray eyes drilling into mine.

“The Volkovs will hear about this, and Taras Volkov will not be happy to know who you have chosen in place of his daughter.”

Thisis the woman that Anatoly was supposed to marry?

“Ochen priyatno, suka.” Grisha’s eyes travel over me in a way and sends my skin crawling. "My sister and I have beendyingto meet the woman who convinced Anatoly to break his engagement."

The expansive museum hall suddenly feels much smaller, and I'm aware of how effectively they’re starting to box me in.

“You’re Anatoly’s ex-fiancée?"

Lola's perfect smile cracks. "Ex-fiancée? No,shlyukhanochka. I’m the woman hewillmarry. Our engagement was signed in blood a long ago, and I will have my due."

“I’m his wife," I reply, my voice steadier than I feel. "He married me."

"Married?" Her sharp brittle laugh echoes. "Do you really believe that? Do you honestly think thatmyTolya would marry someone likeyou?"

And even though it shouldn’t make me mad, the fact thatshedares to call Anatoly by the name that only his family calls him sends hot molten jealousy pouring through my body. For a moment, the fear of seeing Grant Bennet again disappears, and I stand up a little straighter as hot anger and jealousy at her presumptuousness brings the fight back into my heart.

Grisha steps closer, his dark green eyes glittering with amusement. "You’ll have to forgive my sister. She's spent her entire life preparing to be Anatoly's wife."

"Then I suppose she's wasted her time." The words taste dangerous on my tongue.

Lola's face transforms, and her cruel beauty twists into something dangerous. She lunges forward and slaps me. Those manicured nails of hers rake across my face, and I feel pain blooming in their wake.

"You insolent bitch," she hisses. "You think he actually wants you? You're nothing but a tool to him."

I press my hand against my cheek and when I pull it away, I see a tiny smear of blood. "Get away from me."

"But what if we don’t want to get away?" Grisha closes in, grabbing a fistful of my dress. "What if I also want to see just what has gotten my future brother-in-law so enamored."

I twist away from him, feeling the delicate fabric of my gown give way with a sickening tear. Cool air touches my skin where the dress now hangs open.

"Let me go!" I wrench myself backward, stumbling against the wall as more fabric tears. The sound seems to delight them both.

"Look at her," Lola sneers. "Taking off her clothes already at the first opportunity. Is this how you did it? Is this how you stole him from me?"

"And is this how you plan to win him back?” I snap. “By attacking his wife?"

Lola’s eyes widen. It’s clear that nobody has ever dared to talk back to her like I have. She raises her hand again. But before she can bring it down, a new voice—cool and collected—cuts through the air.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Lola Tarasovna.”

Svetlana.

She walks calmly towards the three of us, her hands swinging without a care in the world as if she’s taking a stroll in the park. When Lola sees her, she puts her hand down slowly while her green eyes focus on Svetlana’s hands.

Even Grisha seems to become smaller at the sight of her, and his hand reaches inside of his suit.

“Wouldn’t do that either if I were you, Grisha Tarasovich.” Svetlana purses her lips.