Page 15 of A Monster's Obsession

PAST

I was sitting in the Sixty SoHo Boutique Hotel, doing my best to drink my weight in whiskey. I knew that I was going to be there a while, so I made sure I was seated at the best table as I sipped from a crystal tumbler. I had just had a meeting with my father, and I was made COO of Nash Industries. It was a proud moment for both of us as well as our family. I may have been an entitled asshole, but my father didn’t just hand me the position. It took me five years to work my way into the position.

Of course, nepotism played a role, but I had to earn my spot. My father didn’t take work ethic lightly, He expected all four of his sons to be in the family business, but as the oldest, I was expected to take over one day.

And although I had finally reached COO, I had been derailed for the last three years. My wife died unexpectantly in a car accident, and I was convinced she had been killed. I may look like the typical Wall Street type, but I was anything but. My tailored suits, perfectly styled hair, and broad smile hid the real monster in me.

The Wall Street bastards didn’t have shit on the monster that I am. My family was Irish mob. We ran shit here in the states for generations, and like my father before me and his before him, I was going to be the Don. I started my training young and made my first kill when I was sixteen. I was ruthless, dangerous, and angry. I was always so fucking angry.

And today, when I should’ve been happy that I’d finally gotten my father’s approval and moved one step closer to taking over the family, I was angry. It had been two years of nonstop searching, and I still hadn’t come up with any reason why someone would kill my wife, Cara.

Cara was a sweet woman with a pretty smile, long red hair, and bright hazel-green eyes. We didn’t love one another when we were married, but we had an arrangement that we both agreed on. Our families were two of the most powerful families in the Irish mob council. Our marriage had been arranged before we were even born. I never had any preconceived notions about love or marriage, so marrying for money and power seemed normal for me. And today of all days, I was informed that my last hope of finding evidence of foul play in Cara’s accident, was dead.

I frowned as I thought of my in-laws. Cara may have been sweet, but she wasn’t naïve. She knew what I was and what our union represented. We were high targets for families who wanted to make a name for themselves, but I was cocky. I let my new wife leave the safety of our home with only her bodyguard, Doyle. He was new, but he came highly recommended, and we trusted him to do his job and protect Cara.

I never thought anyone would dare touch her, she was married to a Nash and born to a family of killers. Only a fool would fuck with us. And although both the police and the Council said she died in an accident, something in my gut told me differently. They claimed it could’ve been a faulty brake system, but they couldn’t know for sure because of the fire. Faulty brakes were way too obvious. Who in their right mind would believe such bullshit? Well, I sure the fuck didn’t.

There was foul play and I promised myself I would find out who killed Cara. I let my guard down, and it was my fault. Finding her killer wouldn’t bring her back, but getting revenge would calm the beast inside of me.

As I sat brooding and drinking, a vision of beauty floated into the restaurant. The woman was small, and she couldn’t have been more than five-three or four. She wore a red, orange, and green flowery patterned maxi skirt and a tight white crocheted top that caressed the swell of her pert breast. There was a sliver of belly that peaked through when she walked. Her afro was a glorious crown that bounced with every step of her platform shoes. The large gold hoops caressed the smooth brown skin of her shoulders, and I could imagine my fingers doing the same. Her beautiful face held a bright smile that displayed straight white teeth and dimples that gave her an innocent look. Her light brown eyes glittered, and the bangles on her wrists jangled when she waved. I stared across the room to see who she was greeting, and I couldn’t help the scowl when I saw a tall black man with the wide smile waving back.

Was it her boyfriend? Maybe a husband? What was it about this woman that made me want her?

I continued to watch the pair as they embraced in a hug that said they were familiar with one another, but the kiss on the cheek told me that maybe they weren’t romantic. I took a deep breath, and my shoulders relaxed at the friendly gesture. When she threw her head back, and a melodious sound left her perfect lips, I smiled. The action felt almost foreign because I didn’t smile often, shit, I didn’t smile at all. She would be mine.

***

PRESENT

“Do you want something else to eat?” I’d been watching Sasha push the food around on her plate for over ten minutes. The silence between us was awkward and uncomfortable. It was never like this.

But maybe that’s because all we did was fuck. We never had in-depth conversations, and we never asked one another the hard questions. We were each other’s refuge, and we didn’t want to taint that, now I wish we would have.

“No, no.” Sasha shook her head, “it’s fine.” I sighed heavily because we were going to have to have a difficult conversation, even harder than when she told me about her leaving.

“It’s not fine, Céile. I need you to tell me what’s going on. What are you thinking?” Sasha placed her knife and fork down and wiped her make-up free face with a napkin. I may not like what she was about to tell me, but I would do my best to listen and not react.

“When I went into the closet, I realized just how little I know about you.” Sasha looked into my eyes with a sadness that I hated to see.

“You realized that by my clothes?” I asked, confused. We had a whole conversation about me being in the mob, something I had kept a secret from her the entire time that we were together, and my clothes are what she was worried about.

“Yeah, your clothes. You have leather bracelets and flip flops. I’ve only ever seen you in suits or naked.” Sasha smirked up at me. “It was absolutely believable that you are in the mob. You always had this… way about you. This danger that oozed out of you like honey. But I tried picturing where a guy like yourself would wear leather bracelets.”

Out of all the things I’ve told Sasha about me, she was focused on the fact that I wore bracelets. The strange thing was, I wasn’t completely shocked. Sasha’s quirkiness was one of the things I liked about her. The fact that as an artist, she often saw things that other people either overlooked or never bothered to notice.

“I do take vacations, you know,” I smirked at her trying to ease the discomfort I felt at her seeing me.

“Oh yeah. So I’m guessing you’re a beach guy.” Sasha smiled at me, and I felt relief that she was changing the subject. Well, sort of.

“I haven’t been in years, but yeah.” I gave Sasha a sexy smile to try and distract her, and when she dipped her head and touched her hair, I knew she was blushing.

“So, we’re married now.” Her statement came out a little shaky, and I knew she was nervous. The last time she brought up our marriage just a few hours ago, I lost my shit.

“Yes, we are, Mrs. Nash.”

“We didn’t sign a prenup, Sawyer.” Sasha looked at me with determination covering her beautiful face. No nickname… just Sawyer. I knew she was about to start some shit.

“We don’t need a prenup, Céile,” I growled the words through clenched teeth.Don’t lose your shit, Sawyer.