Page 38 of King of Obsession (Kings of the Underworld #1)

I don’t even venture near the main house, knowing on principle that I am not allowed there. I stare at it, wanting to burn it to the ground—it represents what I could have had and never will.

There are ten men patrolling the grounds, cameras everywhere. Knowing the paranoid ass, he also has motion detectors in the ground. And I am pretty sure my lovely collar has a tracking chip.

Why my feet carry me to a tree next to his house remains a mystery, but I want him to see me. I took down his men and came out on top.

He needs to realize that nothing he can do will break me, so he should stop before my goodwill ends.

His car is not here. He must be out, but he’ll return. The thought shouldn’t soothe me as it does.

The dog watches me from behind the big window.

“What?” I mouth, staring at the black beast.

He sits down and cocks his head. We watch each other in silent companionship.

The sun has long set, and I haven’t moved from my spot.

Taking my gun out just to be prepared if someone tries to ambush me, I close my eyes, battling exhaustion. I need to stay vigilant. No danger has me on alert, but the frustration of not hearing someone sneaking up on me will make me go into a blind rage.

Plus, it’s entertaining watching the guards try to approach me, but I wave my gun, and they retreat.

The engine of a sports car permeates the silence, but I don’t move from my spot. I’ll leave it to him to decide if he’ll come or not. Or I could slip inside his house and show him for once what it’s like to get ambushed.

Shutting the door to an identical Lamborghini to the one I destroyed, he shouts my name even though I’m sure he knows where I am. He has his phone in his hand, and he clutches it tight enough it might break.

“Don’t test me.”

“So dramatic,” I say and reveal myself.

His long legs obliterate the distance between us, and he grips my chin. I didn’t look in the mirror, but I must look bad if the fury brewing in his eyes is an indication. It’s so potent that for a few moments everything else vanishes, until he opens his mouth and ruins everything.

“You attacked my men.”

“Fuck you, Enzo. I was proving a point,” I snap. Grabbing his hand, I slap the gun in his palm. “If I wanted to kill them, you’d have found none of them alive.” I push at his chest and free myself of his hold, wishing I’d escape it altogether—impossible.

Chests panting, both of us are breathing heavily.

“Get inside.”

“No, thank you,” I say sweetly, loving to rile him up.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, losing patience with me by the second. “How else will I fucking keep you alive long enough to kill you if one of my men does it before I can?”

Empty threat. Considering his reaction to one of them hitting me, I doubt he’s capable of it.

I sashay to him, wanting to provoke him. “I would say you don’t have your men under control.”

“My men are loyal, a notion you could never understand. Get inside.”

When I don’t move, he growls, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

I swallow my pride, pointing at his dog. “That thing is inside.”

“You’re not afraid of my men but of my fucking dog?” he asks, incredulity laced in his voice.

“I know how to deal with men.”

He pushes me toward the front door, and I back into him as if to protect myself from the beast waiting for me.

Turning around, I bury my face in his chest, but the asshole keeps walking, forcing me to move inside. If I close my eyes long enough, maybe my brain will forget that the dog is there.

“He answers to my command.”

“Can I go back?”

“No.”

“I—”

“Luciana.” He says my name ringing with annoyance, but just beneath the surface there is something else—exhaustion.

The lights turn on by the command in his voice, and I notice that blood is all over his shirt—a crimson blending with black, painting a clear picture of death. It soaks his clothes and sticks to my fingers.

The image instantly derails my fear at his dog to being terrified for his well being.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, trying to pry his shirt open. My heart beats a wild rhythm as I search for the wound. My fingers shake, my chin quivers, faced with the thought of losing him for good.

“It’s not mine,” he grumbles, removing himself from my presence—the insensitive asshole.

At the confirmation that he’s all right, the panic vanishes. I instantly calm down until I remember the danger, and my blood pressure spikes once again.

Enzo goes to the bar, leaving me alone with his dog who looks up at me, its nose so close to my knees.

“Kill, come here.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t name your dog that.” I am insulted on the dog’s behalf.

“Why? It seems fitting.”

As he gets petted by him, a wave of lust shoots through me. Yeah, dog, I know how good his ministrations feel.

Wanting to snap out of the haze of desire, my eyes take in the space around me.

The open concept kitchen and living room make the area appear enormous.

From the window spanning the front and shiny dark furniture with polished dark floor and big circular golden lights in the ceiling it creates a modern, luxurious aesthetic––simple sophistication that it’s the hardest to achieve comes attached with a big price tag.

He slumps on the comfortable-looking sofa, putting his legs on the brown wood table.

“Show a bit of respect to that piece of art.”

I am about to remove his legs myself when there’s a growl, reminding me of the beast cuddled up to his side.

“This is my fucking home, Luciana,” he grits out.

I shrug. “You should take care of your things, then.”

That has him reacting. Finally.

He puts his legs down, scrubbing a hand down his face that has now some scruff as if he needs to appear even more dangerous and alluring. All my traitorous body imagines is how it would feel scratching along my sensitive skin.

I tilt my head, putting my hands on my waist. “How was your day, amore?”

“Not enough blood to satisfy me, amore,” he spits the last part out.

I wanted to make a dig about us being in the same house—a domesticated paradise for killers.

“How long do you intend to keep me here?” I ask, perching my ass onto a high stool by the bar and pouring myself a glass of wine.

“Feel free to serve yourself. Anything else you’d like?” he asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“The company could be better,” I smile fakely, taking a sip. The blend of berries and something smoky creates a decadent flavor.

“What the fuck should I do with you?” he asks, but it’s more rhetorical.

I remain silent, letting him have a moment to process that I am here. He will conclude that it’s better to keep me in his vicinity.

I like this house. The silent luxury is apparent. I can already tell that the shower and bed will be divine just like the beauty products.

“Apparently, I can’t let you out of my sight. At this rate, I won’t have any men left.”

It takes everything in me not to nod, agreeing with him. Enzo craves my reaction, so he’ll have a reason to send me back. Not going back in that hole on my own.

This is your chance, Luciana, don’t blow it . I’ll manage with the dog.

“But then again, you don’t deserve this upgrade.”

The cruel asshole. My lips tremble with the desire to say something. Not reacting is the hardest thing.

“Hmm, decisions, decisions.”

He keeps me on my toes when we both know he’s keeping me. Now that we’re back to being in the same space and with him having all the apparent power, he can force me into this proximity. Not that I mind. Just seeing him and knowing I ruined us is the worst torment.

“You’ll stay here.”

I bite down on my lip not letting a single sound of satisfaction out and roll my eyes at him as if I hate the idea.

“Your games never worked on me. You can’t manipulate me,” he grits out.

I pin him with a glare. “I was giving you time to come to the same conclusion,” I snap back instead of yelling that I never played games. Not with him.