Page 61 of Sweet Obsession

“Out,” I barked.

Not to her.

To them.

They left without hesitation. But Viktor paused. His mouth tight. I didn’t care.

When the door shut, it was like the room exhaled.

She hovered near the desk, arms wrapped around herself, watching me with those dark, defiant eyes.

“You could’ve been shot,” I said, voice rough. “My men don’t hesitate.”

“Your men are too jumpy,” she replied.

“They’re alive because they are.”

She looked at the maps. Then back at me.

“You sent them away because of me.”

“I sent them away,” I said flatly, “because appearances matter.”

Another lie. But she didn’t call me on it.

She just stood there, silent. Barefoot and wrapped in my scent.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I added.

“And yet,” she whispered, “here I am.”

Something snapped in my chest.

She didn’t flinch when I stepped closer.

Didn’t move when I reached out and brushed her sleeve back, revealing her wrist. The scar there. Thin. Ugly.

“You hide it well,” I murmured.

Her throat bobbed. “I don’t hide it for you.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

I dropped her hand. Turned away before I did something I couldn’t take back. Before I touched her like I wanted to. Before I claimed her like every inch of me screamed too.

I crossed the room slowly. Predator to prey.

But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Didn’t back down.

“Why do you hate me so much?” she whispered. “Even the devil doesn’t deserve this kind of hatred.”

Her voice cracked. A real crack. Not bravado. Not performance.

Something raw and broken lived in that sound.

I stopped in front of her, close enough to feel the heat bleeding from her skin, close enough to see the slight tremble in her lashes.

“You think I hate you because I avoid you?” I asked, voice rough.