Page 60 of Mutual Obsession (Rivals of Blackthorn #2)

F or the past three days, I’ve barely been able to stop thinking about the phone call with Miles and Indie while they were fucking…and the promises she made us.

My brain is full after imagining all the possibilities, and I’m starting to worry that nothing will live up to the porn-inspired show I put on regularly in my head.

I’m not going to lie, as soon as I could get out of the meeting with my dad, I rushed home, hoping to claim my prize. But after a long day of fucking, Indie had already fallen asleep.

Of course, I wanted to wake her, but Miles threatened me. He gave me a mind-blowing blowjob as an apology though, so I can’t complain too much.

Each day since, I hoped it would be the day we could all be together, but life just keeps getting in the way. My work seems to be crazy busy at the moment, which means Marcus is too, and Miles has to be with him.

A girl called in sick at Caged, and Indie has been working overtime to cover her shifts, despite my repeated reassurances she doesn’t even really need to work.

Unfortunately, that suggestion just pissed Indie off more, and she gave me a very long lecture about how she wants to maintain her independence, and she never wants anyone to think she’s only with me because of my money, or my family’s influence.

When she had finished that twenty-minute long lecture, it hardly seemed like the right time to ask if I could fuck her arse. Miles seemed to know I was considering it, as he gave me a deadly glare that forced me into silence. Hence why my blue balls are about ready to fall off entirely.

As I left for work this morning, I was actually grateful to be heading to our torture warehouse, just so I’m able to burn off a little of the tension that’s setting my body on fire.

I storm into the room and see the man, whose name I don’t even know, strapped to the chair in the centre, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I turn to Luca, my newly appointed second in command, waiting for his report.

Luca is a few years older than me, and he’s the person I chose as my Second, as I was sure he’d be loyal to me and not my dad. He’s far more ruthless than I am, with incredibly questionable morals, which makes him the right balance to our partnership.

His curly brown hair and baby face almost make him appear cute, but as the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.

In an attempt to move away from the angelic appearance he’s been naturally blessed with, Luca has covered his body in tattoos, and has piercings in more places than I can count.

The one through the brow above his right eye, and the one to the left side of his lower lip are the most visible.

He stares at me with his bright silver eyes, running his hands over his black ripped jeans as he gives me a smile that’s bordering on psychotic. The blood splatter across his grey T-shirt and the floor explains the cracked knuckles on his right hand.

I glance over at the man strapped to the chair, taking him in properly this time. With his head drooped the way it is, I missed the black and blue colour to his face, and the cut above his eye, that’s still dripping down his cheek.

The man in the chair is only twenty-years-old, so calling him a boy would be more accurate. For just a moment, regret that we find ourselves in this position surges through me.

I value the people that work for me, that are loyal to the Santoro family, but, at the same time, I have to punish the people who betray us.

Luca clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him as he takes a gulp from a can of Coke. “Drink?” he asks, pointing to the fridge he had installed a few months ago.

I shake my head in disbelief. This room is quite literally our torture chamber. There’s one wall of cupboards that are full of everything one might need to inflict the maximum amount of pain. Even the tiled floor has a fucking drain in it, so it can be easily cleaned.

Other than the chair that the prisoner is attached to, there used to only be a couple of extra seats for observers, but that all changed when Luca took over as my Second.

He added a sofa and a fucking fridge. Apparently, torture can be exhausting, and it makes him hungry.

Fucking psycho , I think to myself as I stare at Luca, who is smiling at the boy in the chair like he’s prey caught in a trap.

“Jesse here claims to not know anything at all about the missing money,” Luca sneers, tilting his head in Jesse’s direction.

At the sound of his name, Jesse lifts his head as much as he can, and I wince at the way it sort of rolls, as if he’s so lightheaded he can barely hold it upright. His eyes open wide when he sees me, as he was clearly too out of it before to have even noticed me enter the room.

“Sir… Mr. Santoro, Sir… I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Jesse cries, pink tears rolling down his cheeks as they mix with the blood under his eye.

“Bullshit,” Luca snaps, rolling his eyes at Jesse.

“It’s true. I didn’t take no money.”

Luca scoffs. “It’s ‘I didn’t take any money’, you illiterate idiot.”

I can barely hold back my laugh at Luca correcting Jesse when he’s in such a position. Jesse looks equally confused, but turns his attention back to me, clearly hoping he can win me over with his lies.

The thing is, I never bring people into this room without good reason. I know money is being skimmed off the top of the profits from his territory. Since Jesse is one of my solo dealers, he’s the only one I can blame.

If he tells me he’s been outsourcing, then that’s a whole different issue, but since he hasn’t mentioned that to Luca—and it would be a perfectly good excuse to use—I’m guessing it’s not true. Which doesn’t leave us with very many alternatives.

I grab my chair and set it down in front of Jesse, far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to spit on me if he decides to go down that route. As I sit down, I try to make myself look friendly and approachable.

He’ll think we’re adopting the good cop, bad cop routine, and after enduring Luca’s brand of extracting information, I’m certain he thinks I’m the good cop. Well, I will be until he lies to me…then I have a lot of frustrated energy to work off.

“Jesse, I’m going to be honest with you.

My accountant has run the maths, and there’s no doubt that there’s money missing.

Each week, just a little of the profits are missing.

So either you’re selling for less than the price we tell you to, you’re giving away product for free, you’re using the product yourself without paying for it, or you’re skimming off the profits.

“Either way, I’m losing money. Although it’s not much each week, over the course of a few months, it’s adding up. So, now’s your chance to explain yourself.”

A heavy silence sits between us as I wait for him to respond. I can tell by the way he tilts his head, his brows pulled together as he scrunches his eyes shut, he’s trying to decide what the safest response is.

After a long pause, he pulls his head up as best he can, jutting out his chin to make him appear more confident as he says, “There’s no money missing. Your accountant must be mistaken.”

Luca lets out a harsh laugh, muttering about Jesse being a fucking idiot with a death wish, and he’s not wrong. I heard the way Jesse’s voice cracked at the end, the illusion of confidence fading away as the lie left his lips.

I narrow my gaze at him, giving him one final chance to tell the truth. “I have the best accountant in Blackthorn, and you failed GCSE maths. Forgive me for thinking you might be lying about this. You have one more chance to do this the easy way.”

Jesse lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a snort. “Easy way? He broke my fucking nose, the psycho,” Jesse yells, nodding his head over to where Luca is lounging on the sofa, munching on a chocolate bar.

I swear, if he pulls out a tub of popcorn, I’m kicking him out.

Luca unashamedly shrugs his shoulders. “Shouldn’t tell lies.” At least, I think that’s what he says with a mouthful of chocolate.

I shake my head at him in despair, before turning back to Jesse. “I’m not talking about him. This is about me and my methods.”

“There’s no money missing,” he repeats, sticking to his story, and I let out a long groan as I stand, dragging the chair behind me.

I place the chair against the far wall, then head over to the cabinets that line the opposite wall. I don’t need to look through them; I know exactly what I’m looking for. I open the drawer and pull out my favourite knife and a small pair of pliers.

I turn back towards Jesse, his eyes widening when he sees what I’m holding. The colour drains from him, turning his already pale face almost white as beads of sweat break out along his forehead. His shaved head makes them much more visible.

I walk towards him slowly, making a point of swinging both torture instruments in my hand, letting his imagination work overtime as I approach. “You…you d-don’t have to d-do this,” he stutters, struggling against the ties that are connecting him to the chair.

Luca would have made sure there’s no chance of him escaping, and even if he did, we’re in a locked room, in the middle of a large warehouse that’s full of my security staff, as this is where we train, and it’s in the middle of nowhere.

His chances of escape are zero, but I don’t think he knows that yet.

“I don’t, but you leave me no choice since you’re not being honest,” I tell him, tutting at him like he’s a disappointing child.

I reach towards him with the knife, and as soon as the blade is close enough to make contact with his skin, instead of thrashing to get loose, he holds still, his eyes tracking my every movement. I use my blade to cut open his T-shirt, baring his pale, hairless chest to me.

“I’m telling the truth. You have to believe me,” Jesse yells.

“But I don’t believe you,” I tell him as I run my knife along the length of his chest, just pressing enough to leave a red mark along the skin, not enough to pierce it…not yet, anyway.