Page 11 of Sweet Obsession (Savage Vow #1)

When I descended the staircase, Misha was already standing by the grand fireplace, his figure carved from shadow and smoke. Black slacks, a dark dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, a glint of silver from his watch.

Calm. Cold. Untouchable.

His eyes flickered briefly to me, a mere glance, before he turned back to the two men standing nearby. Strangers. No, not strangers. Bratva. Viktor and Nikolai, his consigliere and second in command.

Their eyes slid to me, appraising and calculating.

I felt like prey among predators.

Misha’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. He extended a hand, and without a word, I understood.

“Come here,” he said softly. But there was no question in his voice. Only command.

My heart hammered in my chest as I moved toward him, slipping my hand into his. He tugged me closer, and I stood at his side, pressed against him in a way that left no room for doubt.

Possessive. Territorial. A warning.

Misha’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me against him.

I gasped, barely catching the sound before it slipped from my lips.

“We’re very happy,” Misha said, his voice deadpan.

The lie was smooth, seamless, even I almost believed it.

Almost.

My stomach twisted.

Nikolai’s eyes lingered on me, and he chuckled, clearly entertained by the display.

Viktor was less amused. He stepped closer, disregarding Misha’s body language.

His gaze lingered on me too long, his grin widening. “She’s more than just beautiful,” he said, his tone mocking, almost daring.

I stiffened, instinctively shrinking back.

Misha’s grip tightened on my waist.

“Kiss her, boss,” Viktor said, grinning cruelly. “You just said the both of you are happy. Prove it to us. Prove it’s not just business.”

The room stilled.

For a heartbeat, I thought Misha would refuse. That he would end Viktor’s life right then and there.

Instead, Misha turned his head, meeting my wide eyes with a look that held something darker than usual.

Without warning, without hesitation, he bent his head and kissed me.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was possession.

Hard. Dominant. Claiming. But not cruel.

His mouth crushed mine, stealing the breath from my lungs, knocking the ground out from under my feet. One hand cradled the back of my head, angling me exactly where he wanted. The other arm stayed firm around my waist, anchoring me to him, holding me hostage in the kiss.

I barely had time to react before his tongue slid into my mouth, teasing the seam of my lips.

A groan rumbled low in his chest, too real, too primal, and I realized with a jolt that he wasn’t entirely pretending. Neither was I.

My fists clenched in the front of his shirt, my nails biting into the fabric as if I could hold on to some semblance of control.

When he finally pulled away, I was shaking. Not from fear.

From the terrifying knowledge that, for a few seconds, I forgot this was all fake.

“Satisfied?” Misha said coolly, wiping his mouth with the pad of his thumb.

The two men chuckled, clearly buying the performance. But Misha’s eyes never left mine, his gaze was intense, searching me, as if he wanted to gauge the effect the kiss had on me. His breath was heavier than usual, and for a split second, I wondered if he, too, had lost himself in it.

Viktor and Nikolai left, the door closing behind them with a soft click.

As soon as they were gone, I yanked myself free from his hold.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded, voice hoarse.

Misha stared at me, impassive as always. “Keeping you alive.”

“By sticking your tongue down my throat?”

His voice was brutally calm, like he hadn’t just kissed me with a force that made my blood burn.

“Had to sell it,” he said flatly. “Would’ve smelled the lie if I didn’t.”

I hated him for it. But more than that, I hated myself for not pushing him away harder. It disgusted me, how easily he could break through my walls, how I could hate him and crave him in the same breath.

“Next time,” I snapped, “warn me.”

“Next time,” he said, stepping close, his voice dropping to a lethal murmur, “kiss me back faster.”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Because deep down, beneath all the rage and defiance, a tiny part of me wanted to do exactly that.

Back in my room, still trembling from the kiss and its aftermath, I snatched up the encrypted phone Misha had given me, part of the “rules” he laid out.

Only permitted numbers. Only supervised calls.

I dialed Gabriela’s private number.

I pressed the phone to my ear, my hands still quivering, the taste of Misha’s kiss lingering on my lips. A storm of confusion churned in my gut. Was he manipulating me? Or had I imagined it all?

Gabriela’s faint voice pulled me back to reality, a sharp reminder that my life was anything but normal.

“Gabriela?” I breathed, my voice low but desperate.

The silence stretched too long, my pulse pounding in my ears. Finally, a whisper broke through the static.

“Luna?” Gabriela’s voice trembled, barely audible, as if she were holding her breath.

“Are you okay?” I demanded, the words coming out too fast. “Is Papa... is he still with you?”

Her voice cracked, a shaky whisper. “I can’t talk long,

She whispered, her voice breaking. “They’re watching me. They know I’m trying to contact you.”

My chest tightened painfully. I swallowed hard, a knot forming in my throat.

“Gabriela, listen to me. I’m working on a way to come back for you. I swear it. Just...”

“No,” she interrupted, voice shaking with fear. “If they know you’re involved, they’ll come for you too. Stay away.”

I froze, the air thick with dread.

“Gabriela...”

“Please,” she begged, her voice quivering, desperate. “Stay away. It’s not safe for either of us anymore.”

And then, the line went dead.

Dead silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.

I stared at the phone in my hand, my breath shallow, heart pounding, the quiet stretching like a threat.

Something was wrong.

Worse than I thought.

And I was trapped, thousands of miles away, fake-married to a man I wasn’t sure I hated anymore...

Or feared more.