Fractured Obsession (Insidious Obsession #2)

1. Dmitri

1

DMITRI

“ M oan less. I don’t need a performance,” I instruct the woman wearing a bunny mask and bouncing on my cock. I take a sip from my whisky and stretch my arms back comfortably over the private leather booth on the third level of my club, Lev. Tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to invite a select few patrons to join me on this level. Plenty of them are still probably enjoying their own pleasure on level two in the red rooms where all their wildest fantasies come alive.

The woman I selected tonight is naked, her body on full display, including a little butterfly tattoo on her hip. Finally, her excessive noises have stopped. This isn’t for her pleasure but mine. And I grow tired of women trying to grab my attention because none of them are or will ever be special.

My head falls back, leaning against the leather seat so I can focus on the sensation of her sweet little pussy gliding back and forth over my cock. I just need a release; this is the only way tension ripples away with ease.

The bunny places her hand on my chest, and I cringe at the touch. “Remove your hand,” I grit out.

“Yes,” she says nervously.

“Your bedroom manners need work.” Layla’s voice fills the empty space.

My little bunny flinches when she realizes we’re not alone but doesn’t stop bouncing on my cock. She’s not allowed to stop unless I tell her to.

If Layla weren’t the closest thing I have to a best friend, I’d lose my shit right about now for her interruption.

I press the whisky to my lips before looking in her direction. My headache suddenly just worsened. She’s in her usual leather attire, looking like a badass from some nineties film. Her shoulder-length blonde hair is tied up and light brown eyes stare at me incredulously under heavy green eyeshadow.

“I wouldn’t have to be so cruel had Maria been in tonight. At least she knows how to satisfy me,” I grumble in complaint.

“Stop being a dick,” she lectures me.

“Then where would my charm go?” I offer an arrogant smile. The smile that everyone else sees. The mask of a billionaire playboy who has everything he wants and needs. It couldn’t be further from the truth. My little bunny’s gaze remains on me, but I can sense she’s intrigued by the newcomer. I’m annoyed by Layla’s intrusion but know better than to try and usher her away. She won’t go. Not until she’s said what she’s come for. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Layla?”

She’s annoyed that I haven’t stopped my current activities on her account. I can tell in the way she crosses her arms over her chest with an indignant sigh. “My sister’s in town.”

A tic runs through my jaw. “And?” Is all I’m able to grit out at the mention of her twin sister, Elanee.

“She won’t answer any of my calls. It’s weird and I was hoping you could help me out.”

The mere mention of her sister runs my blood hot. It’d been five years since we graduated university together and our last exchange wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t just me she’d shut out of her life either. Her family were the same. So how the fuck did that make this my problem?

But I also know Layla won’t leave unless on her terms.

“Leave us,” I instruct the bunny. She seems confused and hesitant until my gaze lands on hers. She sucks in a sharp breath, nods, and jumps off my cock. She collects her white silk robe from the space beside me and the money on the table that’s most likely the biggest paycheck she’s received this month.

Layla watches her admirably as she leaves, and I tuck my cock back into my pants but before I do, Layla gets a glimpse. “Has it shrunk?”

I throw back the rest of my whisky. “How nice of you to take note of my cock. Not that you have anything to compare it to.” I lean over and pour another glass for both of us.

“Well, you know, dick isn’t exactly my thing.” She pretends to gag in disgust as she grabs the glass.

“Nor is a stable relationship,” I counter.

She clinks her glass against mine. “You and I both.”

Touché.

“Your sister has made it very clear she doesn’t want anything to do with either of us. Even if she is an old college friend, I can’t control Elanee anymore then you can.” No one can. And good luck to anyone who tries to simmer down that spitfire. The mild thrum of my migraine begins to intensify as I apply pressure at the bridge of my nose.

“She stopped dancing,” Layla argues. “Which is the one thing that feeds her soul.”

I shrug. “So, she studied in college, went to Russia for five years and realized it’s not her calling. Not an uncommon story. And?”

“I know you care about her, Dmitri,” she finally says. I begrudgingly look at her and despise her fucking insight. I can deny it all I want. Others might fall for my nonchalant attitude toward Elanee Lane, but Layla will always know differently.

She uses my silence to push further, which irks me even more. “It’s felt really off for a while now. My parents and I are worried. I’m asking you for a favor, Dmitri. Is it possible your father’s involved?”

My cutting glare is enough to make her wince and reconsider her last words.

We don’t discuss him.

Ever.

Sure, my estranged father is high in the hierarchy of the Russian Bratva but simply because her sister won’t reply to her texts doesn’t mean he’s involved. Besides I keep him plenty busy as I wreak havoc on any type of business, legal or illegal he tries to start up here in New York. I will never forgive him for what he did to my mother. But neither will I let my best friend try to drag my family affairs into the mix of her own.

I also wasn’t going to tell Layla that I’d stumbled across her sister only a week ago. So be it if Elanee still wanted to hold a grudge against me. Elanee didn’t want to be found, so who was I to drag her out of hiding.

At least that’s what I convince myself. Was my pride wounded? Possibly. At least she hadn’t thrown a drink in my face this time. Progress.

None of that involves my father.

“I said no. Deal with your own family affairs,” I growl out now majorly pissed as I look at my whisky, certain the mention of my father will spoil its taste.

“Dmitri, please. I haven’t seen her for five years either. I know you can find out this type of information. It just feels off. She returned in a private jet with some scary looking men.”

My eyebrows furrow. That’s new information to me. “How do you know that?”

“One of my girlfriends works at the airport and saw them. She thought it was me who landed and asked me what I was doing there. She’s obviously mistaken our identities.”

Easy to do considering they were identical twins.

I could always tell the difference though.

She grinds her teeth and repeats more forcefully this time, “I know you care about my sister.”

“I don’t care about much,” I remind her.

“But you do care about her,” Layla pleads. “She won’t answer my calls or meet with me. My family is really worried, Dmitri.”

The last time I spoke to Elanee she reminded me yet again why she hated me so much. The time before that she threw a drink in my face and said that she despised everything about me before flying to Russia to pursue her ballet dancing. Even five years later it’s bitter to swallow and I don’t think Layla understands the gravity of bad blood her sister and I share. I am not the answer.

As if reading my inner thoughts and obvious reluctance, Layla’s attitude changes and she folds her arms in front of her chest. She’s giving me one of her, I will pummel your ass right now looks.

Layla was the closest thing I had to a friend and it wasn’t unusual for us to spar in the boxing ring either. She was like the sibling I’d never had. But when it comes to strength, power, influence and almost everything—I overthrow her.

She knows this and yet still sizes me up as if she’s ready to take me down. I try not to smirk because it’s part of the reason why I like her.

“Fine,” I grit out. Partially because I’m mixed with curiosity and a hindering sensation to make sure Elanee is safe. Not that I’ll ever admit it. “It shouldn’t take me any more than an hour to find and see her.”

She frowns as she looks at her wristwatch. “It’s two in the morning!”

“I think you of all people know how convincing I can be.”

Though in truth I had no idea how this conversation was going to go. I internally wince at the memory and disgusted expression she held for me only a week ago. If I show up on her front door now. Won’t it be the same?

But having Layla Lane on my ass is also very annoying.

It doesn’t take long for my best hacker, Claus, to find Elanee’s details. Although I’d taken over running my grandfathers’ IT company, Creighton Technologies, it didn’t narrow my business pursuits, including legal and illegal. I hired the right people to ensure my illegal dealings were never brought to the surface. All of my illegal dealings were self-serving and focused on one purpose. To slowly ruin my father.

Looking up at her apartment complex, I’m not overly impressed. She could do so much better than a place like this, and I’m not entirely sure why she chose an outer suburb in the first place. It's a mystery that adds to the intrigue of this situation. Her parents have more wealth than they know what to do with but Elanee herself always strived to handle herself financially. If she came on a private jet, surely, she’d have more than this to show for it?

If I want answers the only way to do that was breaking in because I’m certain Elanee won’t let me in.

I take one more inhale of my smoke and stomp it out. I don’t usually smoke, but tonight I certainly needed something to take off the edge. I could be a gentleman and use the front entrance to break in and bust down her door, but the little patio at the back with potted plants seems far more tempting.

I dump my jacket on the ground and undo the top three buttons so I have more range of movement to climb. I roll up my sleeves to my elbows before jumping on the railing of the neighbor’s patio and hang from the bottom of Elanee’s. One of the perks to being six foot two, is when I pull myself up effortlessly and flip over the rails.

I tsk under my breath at her recklessness in having only a locked screen door to protect her. She’d always loved a fresh breeze running through her apartment. I warned her even in college she shouldn’t leave her windows open in case someone broke in. And yet the only person who ever had was me, dragging her to whatever party or lookout spot I felt like at the time. I find it even more ironic now.

No lights are on and only the dim shine from the streetlight gives me the vague outline of a living room and what looks like a kitchen, but I can barely see past the living room.

I pull out a switchblade from my pocket and slice down the screen. Reaching inside, I switch the latch and open the door. The moment I step into the living room I hear the click of a gun. Vaguely, my eyes adjust to the kitchen and Elanee who is standing in the dark, pointing it in my direction, wearing a tight little sweater, boy shorts, slippers, and a fiery storm pent up in that bronze gaze.

“The fucking audacity, Dmitri Volkov,” she spits.