Page 10 of King of Obsession (Kings of the Underworld #1)

After a sleepless night where thoughts of her kept me awake, I roll out of bed. Dragging a hand down my face, I walk toward the window.

Is she there watching me, thinking of me like I do her?

I palm the glass, and my skin warms up at the image of me touching her. It’s imprinted on my brain to the point that raw need courses through my veins.

I crave to taste, touch, and fuck her so badly. It’s all I can think about. No wonder I have been unfocused as hell.

After my morning shower, I enter my dressing room, which is filled with shirts, suits, and watches.

Dressing in a black shirt and a navy suit, I slap my silver watch on and make my way downstairs to the garage.

I have men posted at every entry, and as I approach my black Lamborghini, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Plucking it out, I see a text from her that stops me in my tracks.

Any favorite flowers?

For what?

For your funeral.

Groaning low in my throat, I am about to reply when a blast hits me out of nowhere, swatting me through the air as if I am a damn fly before my back hits the cement floor hard. My head thumps against the concrete.

Disoriented, I try to figure out what the fuck happened when I see my black Lambo eaten by flames, destroyed.

My men rush to me, and I push myself up, anger simmering low enough that I crack my neck, trying to get a grip on my faltering composure.

Brushing at the invisible dust, I check my head and see that there’s no blood.

This damn woman. She really would have pulled this shit but changed her mind once again at the last minute. This must fucking stop, and my madness got a wake-up call.

My men exchange worried glances as they run around but find no threat. She’s too sneaky and good at what she does to be caught.

I pace around, a brooding volcano ready to explode, demanding retribution, wanting to punish her. Failing to kill me is one thing, but brutalizing my baby is something else. I can’t believe I am more pissed that she ruined my favorite car.

“Take care of this,” I say to one of the guards. I am not one to blame people when they are up against Silver Death. She’ll always find a way. Today, I got irrefutable proof that nothing will deter her from her mission.

I could lie low for today, letting her bask in her success and see what she does next, but I have shit to do.

Getting in the Ferrari, I zip through the streets, wanting to be done with work already to focus on how to surprise my little creature of death, so hungry for my blood when I crave feeling her pulse as I pound her pussy raw.

Parking in the garage of our company’s headquarters, I am somewhat calmer but pumped at the same time. It’s a twenty-story glass building inhabiting all the offices of our various companies.

Mika and I share the twentieth floor, overseeing our respective empires. We decided to share the city long before our fathers’ deaths. They each fought to become king, but we learned that we could build a stronger kingdom by working together.

My father once asked me if I wanted to give him a heart attack when I brought Mika over for the first time.

His father’s reaction wasn’t any better.

Our men disliked it even more, but we learned quickly that our friendship could bring us more power and wealth than our fathers even dared to dream about.

Year by year, we’ve expanded, owning more and more of the West Coast.

I need a fucking coffee before I meet with Mika.

Sure as fuck, he must have found out because the moment I step inside my office, he’s by the window, hands shoved in his pants.

He appears calm and collected on the outside, but I’ve known him for most of my life.

The vein pulsing in his neck is clear proof he’s about to lose it.

One. Two. Three.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he shouts, turning around and glowering at me.

Is he right? Definitely, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. It’s too early, and I survived an attack by sheer luck.

Ordering a coffee from my assistant, I take a seat at my desk, waiting for Mika to speak. I know he needs to get it off his chest first, and then I’ll calm him down. Nothing has changed. She’s still mine to do whatever the fuck I want with, and no one, not even my best friend, will mess with that.

“I am alive, as you can see.”

“You’re testing your luck. I don’t fucking understand why this woman has you in a twist.” He sneers. “You barely know her.”

A headache pounds between my temples, and I rub them in a circular motion, trying to ease the pressure. “I can’t explain it.”

He slaps his palms on my desk, the sound echoing with violence. “You can’t explain? Fucking try it, because if you’ve gone insane, it’s my duty to keep you from screwing everything up.”

Right then, my assistant walks inside. Oliver dips his chin in greeting, puts the espresso cup on the table and walks out, efficient and discreet. He makes sure everything is taken care of, just how I like it.

I take a sip, and the taste instantly shoots through my veins with a dose of caffeine strong enough to handle this mess.

“I will deal with her.”

“Like you have been or are you actually going to do something this time?” he asks, arching a brow at me. With his gunmetal gray eyes and dirty blond hair, he looks like a Viking, ready to conquer the world with his bare hands.

Fact is, I will do something. What? I don’t know yet, which is dangerous. I haven’t gotten so far in life by not being a planner or a strategist, but Luciana upended everything, and I am still learning the rules.

“Don’t worry. Let’s run through the numbers.”

The profit expenses balance is always demanding.

Do we have personnel for that? We do. Do we enjoy going through them ourselves to see what we have built?

Also true. Do we worry that someone might betray us?

Not necessarily. We have people in our pockets, at all levels.

We reward loyalty and punish betrayal. Even though it hasn’t happened in a while, men in our position can never be too comfortable.

There’s always someone trying, eventually.

It’s not greed that pushes us. It’s the fact that life is not fucking fair.

People will always try to find shortcuts and loopholes and push others down to climb the ladder themselves.

I’ve never considered myself anything but a sinner who enjoys the finest things in life and to see how far he can go.

But no one succeeds alone. That’s why I have gotten so far at only twenty-seven.

As we finish, my eyes follow the picture on my desk of my best friend, my sister, my mother, and me resting on my desk. This is the family I have, and I can’t jeopardize that for an unrealistic wish.

I’ll sever this connection once and for all.

He must see the resolve sliding over my face because he sighs a breath of relief.

“About fucking time.”

It’s late by the time we leave for the day and we both head to our cars.

Every Friday, I visit my family at the compound, where I have dinner with my mother and sister.

As soon as the gates open, I drive down the long, paved road, lights posted on each side leading to the mansion. As wide and open as the land is, it feels like a prison where both my sister and mother sheltered themselves as if wanting to forget the life happening beyond the gates.

Parking, I take a moment to put on the amiable mask when I would like nothing more than to help my sister. But after four years, my hopes have dimmed. And my mother, I think she’s just a lost cause, going through the motions as if waiting for it to end already. It’s depressing as fuck.

Maybe that’s why I insisted on breathing life into this place with the pond and colorful gardens that surround the mansion. Or maybe it was my selfish way of not wanting to be faced every time with the same scenario where my guilt chews at my insides.

Climbing out of the car, I button up my jacket.

“You’re still alive, I see,” my sister says from her balcony.

She’s bent over, and I can’t stop myself from smiling at her. She’s a headache and a menace and has too much personality in someone so tiny. I just wish she’d start living, go out, move past that horrendous thing no woman should experience.

“Would you have missed me?” I ask, just to rile her up.

“Wouldn’t miss stupid,” Dahlia says cheekily and then disappears.

Walking inside, my shoes clack over the marble surface. My mother is in the dining room, and I glance at my watch, making sure I am not late.

“Mother.” I dip my chin and kiss the top of her head.

She pats my hand, saying in a soft voice, “I’ve missed you this week.”

Right then, my sister walks inside, mouthing, “Should I tell her?”

“Don’t you dare,” I mouth back.

With a huff, she plops in her chair.

“Mika told me you performed beautifully as ever.”

She avoids my eyes for a second before she shrugs.

“Don’t you—”

“Don’t. Stop. I am fine. I love things just as they are.”

I give a stiff nod right in time for dinner to be served.

“Are you taking care of yourself?” my mother asks, worry threading through her voice.

“I am,” I assure her while my sister pins me with a glare.

I ignore Dahlia and once again, silence follows, as if we have nothing more to talk about. Everyone lives their own life, apart from the others, while still sharing a blood connection. It’s my responsibility to take care of my family.

Things haven’t always been like this. However, I’ve gotten used to the new status quo.

No wonder I’ve enjoyed giving in to this madness this week. It was a break from my monotonous life.

After dinner, I accompany my mother to her favorite place—a sitting room with a view over the backyard where a pool and palms surround it with a lush cactus from which colorful flowers sprout, creating a wild garden.

By the window, there’s an overstuffed armchair and a small coffee table.

On the right side, an entire shelf filled with books spans the wall.