Page 6 of Cruel Obsession

I should feel something. Fear, maybe. Caution at the very least.

Instead, I smile.

“Get in line, Sergei. There are at least five men who’ve made me that same promise this year.” I button my jacket. “Three of them are dead. One’s in prison. The last one—” I pause. “Well, he learned to keep my name out of his mouth.”

Sergei’s jaw clenches. “You arrogant—”

“Nyet.Realistic.” I turn fully toward him now, giving him my complete attention. “You want to come after me? Fine. But understand something first—this marriage was a sham. A bad idea from the start. And your daughter…” I snort. “She has secrets of her own to share. So before you start making threats about honor and respect, maybe look at your own house first.”

His hand twitches toward his jacket. Where he keeps his gun.

Several of my men shift position. I hear the subtle rustle of weapons being readied.

“Go ahead,” I say softly. “Draw it. Right here, in front of all these witnesses. In a registry office. Start a war in a room full of civilians.” I tilt my head. “That’s the Tulikov way, isn’t it? No honor. No code. Just blind rage and collateral damage.”

For a moment, I think he’ll do it. His hand hovers near his jacket, fingers flexing.

Then he drops it.

“This isn’t over.” His voice shakes. “Not even close.”

“It never is.” I turn my back on him—the ultimate insult. “Enjoy the reception, Sergei. I paid for an open bar.”

I walk. Don’t rush. Don’t look back.

The doors close behind me with a muted thud, swallowing the chaos.

The hallway is cooler. Quieter. My pulse drums in my ears, but my breathing stays even.

Footsteps approach from my left—quick, heavy. Stefan appears from the corridor where he’s been scouring the perimeter, his expression grim. The others materialize behind him. Leo. Mikhail. Alexei. They form a loose perimeter, checking sightlines, hands resting casually near concealed weapons.

No one speaks.

Stefan falls into step beside me, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes mine. For a full minute, we walk in silence. Our footsteps echo off the marble floors, past gilt-framed mirrors and crystal sconces that probably cost more than most people make in a year.

“That was—” Stefan starts.

“Don’t.”

“—a complete fucking disaster.”

I stop walking. Turn to face him.

Stefan crosses his arms, his biceps straining against his suit jacket. The tattoo on his neck—a serpent coiled around a dagger—seems to pulse with his heartbeat. “You just burned the Tulikov alliance. In public. In front of the entire Bratva.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you?” He leans in, voice dropping. “Because Sergei’s not going to let this go. He’s already lost face. His daughter’s humiliated. The merger’s dead. He’s got no choice but to retaliate now, or he looks weak.”

“Let him try.”

“Blyad, Arkady.” Stefan rakes a hand over his scalp. “This isn’t some low-level enforcer you can disappear. This is Sergei fucking Tulikov. He’s got connections, resources, an entire family backing him—”

“I know who he is.”

“Then you know this is going to get bloody.” Stefan’s eyes search mine. “Your father’s going to lose his shit. The other families are going to take sides. We’re going to have to fortify every property, vet every supplier, watch our backs every fucking second because Sergei’s going to hit us where we’re weakest and he’s going to do it soon.”

Everything Stefan’s saying is true.