Page 69 of Deadly Obsession

“Yes, sir.” I giggle and give him a two-finger salute which I know he hates but do because it’s fun to make him bristle.

Elias helps me out of the SUV, his hand clasping mine before leading me to the building’s entrance. He’s walking fast, but I have long legs, so I easily keep up with him.

“Am I in trouble, daddy?” I say in a childish voice when we step inside the elevator alone. “Are you going to punish me?”

I stick the tip of my finger between my teeth but my attempt to woo Elias fails. He’s giving me the silent treatment. The elevator dings announcing our arrival on the penthouse level. The door opens, and Elias steps out. I rip my hand from his.

“Fine. Be mad at me. I’ll just go home,” I say as the doors begin to shut.

Before I can take my keycard out of my purse to get the elevator car moving, Elias’s large hand stops the doors from closing.

He slowly steps inside, backing me up against the wall and caging me within his arms.

“Youarehome.”

I scoff.

“And I’m not mad at you, Sage,” he continues, his voice low and dangerous.“I’mfurious.”

“Why? Because I wanted to spend time with my best friend?”

“Because you got drunk. You let your guard down. What if Chase—”

“Your babysitters would have protected me, isn’t that why they’re following me around?”

He doesn’t answer that question. He looks up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with me.

“I’m not sorry about getting drunk. Ineededto get drunk. Can you blame me? Chase returning in my life. This world I’m now a part of—”

Fuck. My voice cracked.

Oh, God, not the tears.

I blame the booze. It always makes me weepy.

“It’sintenseand all too overwhelming. I’ve been losing my mind this week with you gone, and I’ve been bored, trying not to let my thoughts get the best of me.”

I’m full on crying now, and Elias cups my cheek before wrapping me in his arms. We stand there in the elevator, holding each other for several minutes until he pulls away.

He dries the tears off my cheek—I melt every time he does that. It’s such a gentle move from the big, dangerous mafia boss.

“I’m sorry. I was worried and overreacted.”

I nod, but I can’t say anything because I might start crying again.

“Let’s get you inside,” he says, his deep voice soft.

In the kitchen, he hands me a glass of water and stands there watching as I drink it all down. He refills it and leads me to his bedroom where he strips me of the sweater and leggings I wore to brunch. Then he puts me in one of his big t-shirts and sweatpants before tucking me in bed.

“I have to go take care of something. Sleep off all those espresso martinis—”

“Hey, how’d you know what I was drinking?”

“Justin sent me photos.”

Justin’s the other bodyguard.

Fucking narc!