Twisted Obsession (Underworld Kings)

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

And she is most certainly exquisite.

I shake that thought from my mind as I watch her touching my clothes before she drops her hand and grips the metal bar that holds my suit pants. They’re about waist high to her, and she shifts them around to make space for her delicate hands.

It’s then that the ballet training she’s been accustomed to shines through when she does some silly little pose, which pushes her tight ass out and curves her back beautifully. I could fuck her into submission just like that.

I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the bedframe. The four-poster bed will be a place she’ll come to know well, but she’ll never sleep beside me. As hard as her beauty makes my cock, she’s still the enemy.

I watch her lift one arm into the air, curving it back until she’s staring at the ceiling, her other hand lightly holding onto the metal to keep her balance as she raises up on her tip toes. The movement has her calves appearing even more prominent, the cutting lines of her muscled, yet lean legs have me throbbing against my zipper.

Fuck, how I’d love to bend her in all the positions I can while she takes me deep inside that hourglass figure. I clear my throat, tired of watching and needing to have the space to myself and free from desire for the woman I hate. The sound jolts her. She snaps her gaze to mine as a soft gasp tumbles free from her plump, soft pink lips.

“I-I…” she mumbles, racing from the closet and shutting the door before she stops in front of me. The shock slowly wears off, but the guilt that she’d been caught in here is etched on her pretty face. She’s got an elfin look about her. Raven-hued hair, soft pale skin with a beautifully curled mouth. Her eyes are the softest shade of green, while her brows are dark as they frame the almond-shaped orbs.

She has high cheekbones which are pinkened from embarrassment. I want to taunt her some more, just to see how dark that shade will go, but I’m not in the mood to have her in my space, not yet anyway.

“I’ll show you to your bedroom,” I tell her without acknowledging the fact that I caught her snooping. Turning on my heel, I head for the door before she speaks again.

“I need to know what you’re going to do with me,” she says, her voice strong and confident compared to moments ago. It’s the same poise she displayed in the warehouse, and I decide I like it, even though I know it will get her into trouble with me.

I don’t bother responding as I head into the hallway with her padding behind me. Her steps are quick, soft, and almost silent. But I hear her. I feel her. I stop outside the guest bedroom I had made up for her when I realized there was no going back on this arrangement. It was the best course of action. The room has been waiting for her for years, and I hope she likes it. Shaking my head at the errand thought, I fist my hands in frustration at the idea of me wanting her to be comfortable.

She’s here to pay for her father’s sins, not to be coddled like a princess. She may have come from a home where everyone treated her like royalty, but she’s no queen in the De Rossi clan.

Not yet.

Not until I allow her to be.

“This will be your bedroom,” I tell her, ignoring her earlier question. “You’ll stay in here until I call for you. In the morning, I’ll have my men outside the door. If you need anything, ask them and they’ll get it for you.”

“Enzo—”

I spin on my heel when she whispers my name. Anger surges through me that this girl can affect me in ways no woman ever has. My hand shoots out as my fingers grip her neck in a tight hold. A dick-hardening gasp tumbles from her mouth, and I want nothing more than to swallow every sound she makes.

“You’ll refer to me as Mr. De Rossi until I say otherwise,” I say, my tone filled with unadulterated venom. “Only my friends and family call me Enzo. You’re neither of those.” Not yet anyway, my mind adds silently. “Nod if you understand,” I instruct my sweet little dancer.

She obeys and I release her, moving away to inhale a breath that doesn’t fill my senses with her. In the bedroom, I turn, glancing over my shoulder to wait for her to follow. When she does, I look away, needing to focus on anything else but the way she heats my blood.

“You know, I’m not just some toy you can push around,” Luna tells me as she sidles by me as if I didn’t just have my fingers wrapped around her neck. She heads for the window, which overlooks the city below. The lights are twinkling, the Big Apple alive with possibility, and in the distance, the sky has turned an inky shade which matches her hair.