Twisted Obsession (Underworld Kings)

Suddenly, the silence greets us with a deafening thud, and my gaze locks on the girl in question. She offers a strangely shy smile, as if I've caught her doing something she shouldn't be doing. Her cheeks are a soft rosy hue, and my cock throbs against my pants when I think about making sure her ass is just as red. At eighteen, she's younger than what I would have chosen for my wife. But as I look at her curves, how she carries herself, I realize she's grown up quickly.

She's had to.

In this life, in our world, there isn't time to be childish and playful.

You either sink or swim.

And my little dancer can swim with the sharks.

Chapter 10

Luna

He stands there watching me as if I were on a stage. There's a slight smile on his lips. My heartbeat is a wild animal in my chest as I watch Enzo. He makes no move to walk into the room, but instead, waits patiently at the doorway.

His shirt is still pristine, his jacket is unbuttoned. I know he had a meeting, and thankfully, I was able to concentrate on my classes today instead of being nervous with him in the apartment with me.

"Luna," the sound of Violetta's voice startles me, and I jump. "We're done for the day." She offers me a smile before taking her personal belongings and leaving me with Enzo. It doesn't calm my heartbeat, and the silence is deafening as I stand aimlessly in the middle of my studio.

When Mario told me he had one decorated for me, I expected a room with a few beams, but what I found instead was breath taking. The walls are all mirrored, the floor is made up of smooth wooden panels that make it easy to practice on. The ceiling is lit with fluorescent lights, which can be dimmed, if need be, and the speakers that surround the studio are of the utmost quality.

"What are you doing here?"

My question seems silly when he laughs. The sound is a deep rumbling vibration that makes my stomach do somersaults. He seems happy today. Better than he was last night. Each time I recall what happened, my body tenses. Not in fear, but something else I don't want to put my finger on, because if I do, I'll only admit what I want and feel.

"I live here," he informs me in a tone that is filled with amusement. I don't know what's changed since the sun rose this morning, but it seems to have lightened his mood.

It's strange to see a man like him in a good mood. A mafia king—ruthless and volatile—grinning like a schoolboy on Christmas. "I just meant... I thought you were at a meeting."

"I was. And then I came home. I didn't realize I needed your permission to do so," he says before toeing off his shoes and stepping onto the wooden floorboards. His socks—black as night—cover his feet, and I wonder what he looks like naked. The thought rushes into my mind with embarrassment burning my cheeks.

"You don't," I choke out when I look up to find him inches from me. He reaches for me, and I can't stop myself from flinching. His tender touch burns me when his fingertips come into contact with my chin, and he tips my head back further. I'm not sure what he's doing, but when his hand wraps around my throat, I realize he's looking for bruises where his fingers were last night.

I covered up the soft blues and purples, but not before I ran my fingers along them myself. That was the moment I realized the twisted thoughts in my mind have rooted themselves deep inside me. The way he marked me warmed my belly, and instead of scaring me, the way it should have, my core throbbed at the dark images that took hold of me.

"You look pretty," Enzo murmurs suddenly, his voice dropping to a gravelly baritone that scrapes itself along my flesh. "So, fucking beautiful with my hand on you," he continues, and every utterance only seems to have my thighs squeezing together and my nipples hardening against my tight bodysuit.

Shit.

"Let go of me," I bite out, forcing my anger to the forefront of my mind and shoving the desire for his touch to the back. I can't do this. I can't want him. This is a man with Cavallone blood on his hands. His family killed my father. Although I can't judge him since my father was a murderer too, I won't allow myself to fall into the trap that so many other women have.

I need to remember Enzo de Rossi is the enemy.

My plan to make him love me needs to be my focus, and the only way I'm going to do that is to be stronger than he is. The higher someone climbs, the harder they'll fall, and he's at the top now. The only way is down. And I'll make sure of it.