Page 98 of Veil of Obsession

I hum sleepily, stretching again, the sheets sliding down my bare skin. His gaze flicks down—sharp, dark, lingering on the curve of my shoulder, my collarbone, the faint marks he left last night.

His jaw tightens. His fingers twitch.

I smirk. “You’re staring.”

Lucio exhales sharply, shaking his head, his lips curving slightly. “Can you blame me?”

I grin, rolling onto my side, half-draped in his sheets, feeling spoiled, ruined, owned. “Are you going to come back to bed, or…”

Lucio groans, dragging a hand though his hair, looking like he’s actually considering it. But then he exhales, stepping closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.

“As much as I want to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin, “I have a meeting with my brothers. But I won’t be long.”

I pout and tug the blanket higher, hating that he has to leave.

He smirks, reaching over to pull it back down, exposing my bare shoulder, his fingers ghosting over my skin. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to cancel everything and spend all day fucking you instead.”

I arch a brow. “That was exactly what I was thinking.”

Lucio chuckles low and deep, shaking his head. “Eat first, then we’ll talk about round five.”

I blink. “Eat?”

His smirk softens. “Yeah. I made you breakfast. It’s covered in the kitchen, ready whenever you want it.”

Something tightens in my chest, something I don’t know how to name. I glance at him, searching his face, but there’s no teasing, no smugness. Just Lucio. Taking care of me. Like it’s nothing.

Like I matter.

I swallow hard, hating how warm that makes me feel. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Lucio shrugs, watching me closely. “I wanted to.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod, fighting back a smile and pretending this doesn’t mean more than it should. Lucio leans down again, brushing his lips over mine—slow, deep, just enough to make me breathless before he pulls away.

“I won’t be gone long,” he murmurs, his thumb dragging over my bottom lip, his gaze heated. “And when I come back…” He smirks. “Be ready for me, Princess.”

Then he’s gone.

And I’m still in his bed, wrapped up in his scent, in his sheets, in something deeper than I ever expected.

36

Lucio

The family’s townhouse is a fortress of power and history, a reminder of how deep the Camorra’s roots run in New York. The place smells like espresso, leather, and money; the air is always thick with business, strategy, and the quiet weight of our family’s legacy.

I push through the grand doors, greeted instantly by the warm scent of something cooking in the kitchen—something familiar, something that reminds me of home, of Ma. The second I step inside, she’s there, waiting.

“Lucio.” She says my name the way she always does: like she expects trouble to follow.

I smirk, stepping toward her and kissing her on both cheeks before she can scold me for anything she hasn’t even confirmed yet. “Ma.”

She huffs, arching a brow, giving me that look. The one that sees straight through my bullshit. “You look tired.”