Page 27 of King of Obsession (Kings of the Underworld #1)

My hands tremble on the handles as I speed down the highway through blurry eyes.

Riding without crashing takes all my focus.

I need to get away from him as fast as possible.

I know exactly what I did, but it doesn’t matter.

Enzo thinks I aimed for his chest to kill him, but I did the only thing I could to save his life.

The camera registered the shot so the asshole, Adamo, will know it’s not my fault. It wasn’t a risk on my part. My aim is impeccable. I can take someone down from two damn miles. I had no problem hitting his pendant from such a short distance.

Tears stream down my face as I drive down the empty road in the middle of nowhere until I reach the small airport where the private jet waits.

As I hop off the bike, I look back. Imagining the life I could have lived and leaving the man I love behind root me in place for agonizing moments.

He will never forgive me and probably will hate me, but not more than I hate myself. This is not a fairy tale ending with a happily ever after. That’s not for me.

I will forget about him when I land in Italy and continue to work, going on with my life like I didn’t just give my heart and body to someone else.

On the deserted tarmac, every step I take toward the jet feels like I’m slogging through cement. I am afraid I can’t pull off this ruse. I should return and let him punish me for my deeds and then take the world apart so we can be together.

Fucking stop, Luciana. You tried to find a way, but there simply isn’t one. Our sneaking around would have been discovered.

How could I have a damn secret relationship, a long distance one, when I must avail myself to another man every second of every day.

And Enzo is not the sharing type. The thought of him clenches a fist around my heart, squeezing the life essence that I remain hollow, a wandering ghost while roaming among the living.

For the first time in my life, I chose someone else over myself, even though it doesn’t seem that way. But it’s not just someone—it’s him.

It’s done.

Go home . The thought is flimsy compared to what I’ve experienced. His arms have felt like home for the first time in my life. All I can do now is embrace misery instead––my new lover.

The flight attendant welcomes me, and I slump in my seat, buckling myself up.

“Bring me the hardest stuff you have to drink.”

I have to numb myself so that by the time I land, my mask won’t crack. As the jet takes off, it feels like destitution has replaced my life force. I’ve left all the dreams I didn’t know I could have behind.

Another tear slides down my cheek. I brush it with the back of my hand, erasing the proof of my weakness.

Pull yourself together . You chose your path a long time ago.

Now, all you have to do is forget about him.

A third of the vodka bottle is gone, yet I cradle the bottle to my chest, holding on to it as if it’s the only grip I have on reality while my mind latches on to every memory we made together.

Not being able to continue this pity party, afraid I will open the door to the jet and fling myself out, I stand up, slamming the bottle on the table. Moving to the cabin at the end of the floor, I walk inside the small bedroom.

I crawl into bed with my phone, going through the messages and all the pics I’ve taken of him when he was asleep.

I had so many chances to kill him. Any shot would have been better than him seeing me pull the trigger, making him believe I wanted to kill him.

I killed his heart, his love with my supposed betrayal, but I killed myself in the process too.

Enzo was right to tell me I couldn’t kill him, but in the end, I erased his belief.

Closing my eyes, I try to sleep, but it’s like I am chasing a wild cat, fully engaged in a game of hunter and prey. When I finally fall asleep, a deep sigh of relief rolls out of my mouth, only to wake up with my heart pounding and clutching my diamond necklace.

I tell myself it was a nightmare, nothing else, yet I still count the twenty-eight diamonds as if in a trance. He was bleeding in front of me from my bullet, and then another diamond popped up, decorating my neck.

Going to the bathroom, I throw up all the bitterness gathering in my stomach, poisoning my insides.

I am slowly dying, and I can’t stop.

This is not you, I repeat to myself as I hug the toilet.

If someone saw me like this, I would lose all the respect I’d worked so hard to earn. But this hurt spreads through my chest, making me want to hole up in a corner and be left alone, agonizing in peace. I’ve never experienced this pain that butchers my heart, slicing at my will to go on.

Standing up on shaky legs, I grip the edge of the sink and look in the mirror. Bags lie under my eyes, my silver eyes dull just like my complexion—my life essence got snubbed.

Pull yourself together, I urge myself again and splash some cold water on my face. I prepare myself for landing by applying layers of makeup to cover my hangover, sleepless night, and heartache.

Dressing in a pencil skirt and a silk shirt, I put on my high heels, returning to my seat and buckling myself in just as the captain announces we’re about to land.

Clutching my phone in my hand, I have one goal: to hide what I did and make sure no one finds out about my indiscretion.

I was in New York on vacation. Period.

The jet lands and I see my car waiting with the driver ready to open the door for me.

He looks at my small bag but says nothing as he puts it inside the trunk and then gets behind the wheel.

Everyone knows not to interact with me, so he greets me with a dip of his chin, and then he drives me home.

During the hour-long drive, I watch outside the window, knowing I will have to meet both Augustus and Adamo, in that order.

He parks in front of my house, and I can’t stop thinking that I have all this space for myself, but there’s no joy, no laughter—it’s empty of life just like me. Material things can’t buy anything of substance.

My heels click clack down the polished marble as I go into my office.

There are folders stacked on my desk. Work will hopefully help me escape my funk. I function on pure will, but I doubt that’s enough to sustain me long term.

One staff member brings me breakfast. I ignore it, rifling through the papers. It’s the usual: my next targets: a diplomat and an inventor of an alternate energy solution. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?

This is enough work to keep me busy for a while.

I call Augustus and he answers immediately.

“I am back and received my tasks.”

“Those can wait. Join me for lunch at my place.”

“I’ll be there,” I say, my heart pounding wildly even though I assure myself no one will notice the differences. I could bleed out and be on the brink of dying, but I wouldn’t grimace. I am sure I can hide my heartache with no problem.

As I have two more hours to kill, I move between my laptop and my board. Pinning all the relevant information for my first hit, I develop the plan to take him down smoothly. It’s even a bit challenging. He’s so paranoid he doesn’t leave his house, only for monthly board meetings.

Once I am done, I pack what I need, hoping to be on my way by tomorrow. It’s that or letting my emotions overwhelm me. Coupled with what I’ll find out from Adamo, my chances of not going off the rails are better if I focus on my job.

The moment the driver parks, we take a small boat and drive through the canals. It stinks of seaweed and decrepit buildings.

While I understand the appeal of the Council to reside in Venice for the symbolism of power alone, I prefer to be on a ground that doesn’t threaten to draw me under every day.

Augustus’s house is impressive—a centuries-old building that has stood the test of time just like his aspirations. If he continues this way, he will ensure his legacy will outlive him. The Council has thrived under his unofficial rule.

Inside, opulence surrounds me, from the patterned marble floor to the crystal chandeliers and sophisticated art and Italian handcrafted furniture. It looks more like a museum than a home.

A staff member gestures for me to follow her even though I know the path with my eyes closed.

He waits for me in his favorite room—his office giving way to the best view of the harbor. It smells of cigars and old books that span the right wall as he sits in his imposing wood and leather armchair, drinking his espresso.

His brown, knowing eyes set on me, and I immediately put a mask on.

“I see you survived without me,” I say, letting the arrogance I am known for slip through.

“I see the vacation didn’t curb that attitude of yours.”

His hard fucking did . That thought comes out of nowhere, and it takes every bit of sanity left to hold on to my composure.

Approaching his mahogany desk, I follow the automated process. I’ve been here hundreds of times; the difference is he’s paying more attention to me.

I must eradicate any doubt he has.

“Why would it? I am used to flashy things.”

“Do not compare Venice to that jungle of cement with no grace or inspiration,” he mumbles low.

I almost smile at how passionate he is. A true Italian nationalist, proud of his heritage.

“Miss Donata was on her best behavior?”

I had a package sent to her door of another escapade of her progeniture before I left. I am so done with her cunning ways of trying to take the power in her hands. It’s as if she’s waiting for Augustus to die which won’t happen on my watch.

He cocks his head, smirking. “Too well. Did it have something to do with you?”

I give him an intent look. “You know it did.”

He shakes his head at me, not hiding his chuckle as pride stretches the corners of his eyes.

He folds his hands on his lap, eyeing me straight in the eyes.

“Don’t make enemies of your family. I can’t protect you forever.

I am still bound by certain rules, and you are testing the patience and ego of people who don’t like to be put in their place. ”