Page 4 of Obsidian Devotion (Empire of Sin & Blood #3)

Sofia

I feel it the moment I step into his office—heavy, electric, dangerous. Lorenzo Bellanti is in a pissy mood.

"Your drink." I place the crystal tumbler on his desk, careful to avoid his fingers.

He glances up, pushing his sleeves to his elbows. My breath catches at the sight of his forearms—powerful, veined, and covered in intricate tattoos that disappear beneath the fabric.

"Bad day?" I ask, unable to tear my eyes away.

Those impossibly green eyes lock onto mine. "Is that part of your bartending service? Therapy with the bourbon?"

"No." I smile slightly. "That costs extra."

The corner of his mouth curves up as he reaches for a silver case. He extracts a cigarette with long, elegant fingers—the same fingers that pulled a trigger and took my brother from me.

My stomach twists with disgust. With desire. With self-loathing.

Lorenzo lights the cigarette, his eyes never leaving mine as he takes a deep drag. The smoke curls from his lips when he exhales, and something hot and forbidden coils inside me.

"Nothing I can't handle," he says, his voice rough like gravel. He leans back, stretching those tattooed arms behind his head. The movement pulls his shirt tight across his broad chest.

My body responds instantly, a shameful heat spreading through me. This man killed Luciano. My brother's blood stains his hands. I should plot his death, not imagining those same hands on my skin.

When he takes another drag, his lips wrapping around the cigarette, I force myself to look away. The memory of my brother's funeral flashes through my mind—a brutal reminder of why I'm really here.

Vengeance, not desire. Justice, not lust.

"Of course. The great Lorenzo Bellanti can handle anything." I can't help the hint of sarcasm that creeps into my voice.

He raises an eyebrow. "Careful, Sofia. I might start thinking you have opinions about me."

"Everyone has opinions about you." I tilt my head. "Most are just too scared to share them."

"And you're not scared?"

The question hangs between us, weighted with meaning beyond the words.

Am I scared?

Every day. Every night. Every moment I'm in his presence, playing this dangerous game, I’m scared that he’ll see through me and it’ll all be over.

"I respect your position," I say carefully. "But fear isn't particularly useful in my line of work."

He studies me with that unnerving intensity, like he's trying to read the thoughts beneath my skin. "And what exactly is your line of work these days? Still figuring that out myself."

"Whatever you need it to be." I hold his gaze, refusing to look away first.

Lorenzo's laugh is unexpected, a rich sound that warms the room. "Christ, you're something else, Red."

The nickname sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I force myself to remember why I'm here—the video of Luciano’s mutilated body.

I nod toward the door. "I should get back. The bar won't run itself."

"Stay." It's not quite a command, but it’s close enough. "Pour yourself something."

"I don't drink on the job."

"Then sit. I could use the distraction."

I hesitate, then sink into the chair across from him. "Rough week?"

"Rough year." He rubs a hand over his face, and for a moment, I see the weight he carries. The responsibility. It would be easier if he were just a monster through and through.

"Want to talk about it?" I ask, wondering if he'll actually share anything real.

Lorenzo studies me over the rim of his glass. "You first."

"What?"

"Tell me something real, Sofia. Something I won't find in that perfect background check."

My heart rate kicks up. "Like what?"

"Like why a woman with your talents is serving drinks to degenerates and criminals?"

I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. "Good tips."

"Bullshit."

"Glamorous lifestyle?"

"Try again."

I sigh. "I enjoy learning people's secrets. Understanding what makes them tick. What better place than behind a bar?"

Lorenzo leans forward, elbows on his desk. "And what have you learned about me?"

"That you ask too many questions." I state flatly.

He chuckles. "Occupational hazard."

"Your siblings love you," I say finally. “They all light up when you walk in."

Something softens in his expression. "Family is everything."

"So I've heard." The bitterness slips out before I can catch it.

His eyes narrow. "What exactly happened to your family?"

“Car accident,” I respond. It isn’t a lie. My parents died in a car accident while driving back home from a date. My uncle Carlos took Luciano and me under his wings after that.

"What about you?" I ask, needing to redirect the question. "Any secrets to share with your bartender?"

"More than you could handle," he says, but his tone is lighter now.

"Try me."

He swirls the amber liquid in his glass. "I hate this part of the business."

"Which part?"

"The waiting. The politics. Give me a direct problem, I'll solve it. But this..." He gestures to the papers on his desk. "Shifting alliances, whispers and rumors. It's exhausting."

I nod, understanding more than he realizes. "You prefer getting your hands dirty."

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. "Sometimes getting your hands dirty is the only way to truly clean up a mess."

I think of Luciano, of what these hands did to him, and my jaw tightens. "There are other ways."

"Like what, Red? Tell me your secret method for handling men who want to destroy everything you've built."

The challenge in his voice is impossible to ignore. This is my opening.

"Psychological warfare," I say coolly. "Physical force is effective, but messy. People expect it from men like you."

His eyebrow raises. "Men like me?"

"Powerful. Dangerous." I meet his gaze. "Feared."

"And what would you suggest instead?"

"Target what they care about most. For most men, it's not their bodies, but their reputations. Their legacies. Their sense of security." I move closer, forgetting myself in the conversation's thrill. "Make them destroy themselves."

Lorenzo watches me with interest. "Spoken like someone who's given this considerable thought."

I realize my mistake immediately. I've shown too much of my hand.

"Just an observation," I say lightly. "People confess all sorts of things to their bartenders."

"And what would you confess, I wonder?" His voice drops lower. "After a few drinks, alone, with no one to overhear?"

Heat crawls up my neck. "Nothing interesting."

"Liar," he mumbles, but there's no accusation in his tone. Just certainty.

Before I can respond, Olivia bursts through the door, her normally perfect composure visibly shaken.

"Lorenzo, we need to talk." Her eyes flick to me, and for the first time since I've known her, there's no warmth there. Just a curt nod before she turns back to her brother. "Now. Privately."

The transformation is immediate. Lorenzo's entire demeanor shifts, shoulders squaring, jaw hardening. The man who was almost vulnerable moments ago vanishes, replaced by the Lorenzo Bellanti who makes grown men tremble.

"We'll continue this later," he tells me.

I nod, gathering his empty glass. "Of course, boss."

As I turn to leave, his hand catches my wrist, the touch sending electricity shooting up my arm. His thumb brushes over my pulse point, and I know he can feel how it races.

"I'm not finished with you, Sofia," he says quietly, dark promise in his eyes.

It sounds like a threat, but it feels like a promise. Either way, it terrifies me.

"I'm counting on it," I reply, pulling away before he can feel me tremble.

As I close the door behind me, I glimpse Olivia's expression—tight with worry. Something major has happened.

Good. Let their empire crumble. Let them feel a fraction of what I felt when they took everything from me.

I touch my wrist where his fingers were, the skin still burning. This is getting complicated. I'm supposed to be bringing him down, not wondering what his lips would feel like against mine.

Focus, Sofia. Remember why you're here.

But as I walk down to the bar, I can't help but wonder which is the real Lorenzo Bellanti—the ruthless killer who tortured my brother, or the man whose eyes hold shadows of something like conscience.

And worse, I'm not sure which version I'm more drawn to.