The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2)

“Oh, how romantic,” she gasped. “This setting is fabulous.”

I stood motionless as the makeup artist slicked gloss over my lips, but like a thirsty gazelle sharing a watering hole with a lion, I watched Royce with wary eyes. He looked effortless in his tan suit without a tie, full of carefree confidence. The enormous privilege he carried weighed nothing.

The photographer tossed a finger at the stone bench. “Royce, why don’t you sit beneath the fountain?” When he did, she added, “Great. Marist, we’ll have you sit sideways in his lap.”

To the rest of the people, my fiancé just looked thrilled with this idea, but all I saw was his devious smirk. I begrudgingly marched toward him and refused to let the excitement deep inside me make an appearance. He held his arms out, welcoming me into his lap, and the masculine scent of his cologne invaded my senses. It was bad enough he looked good. He didn’t have to smell amazing too.

I forced on a smile, matching his dazzling one while the camera’s loud shutter clicked away.

“Good, good,” the woman said. “Can you put your arm around his shoulders? Tilt your head down and look at him.”

It was uncomfortable sitting on him, and the dress rode up high across my bare legs, but I did as I was directed. When I shifted, trying to find a better position, it worked a grunt from him that was probably too quiet for anyone but me to hear. It was loaded with pleasure.

His hand gripped my knee for a moment before it slid a few inches up my leg, and my breath caught. His fingertips were hidden beneath my skirt. It lingered right at the edge of being inappropriate, and the way my body responded to it was completely inappropriate. Despite the summer heat, goosebumps pebbled across my skin.

His touch gave me tunnel-vision. The photographer said something to Royce, perhaps telling him to straighten his back, but everything outside of him went fuzzy. It barely registered when the woman commanded me to kiss him. My body was already clamoring for it, so it wasn’t hard to give in.

“Control yourself this time,” I said. Hopefully my scolding tone masked the very real plea beneath it.

“Not a chance.”

Today, he wasn’t Hades, the king of the underworld—he was Ares.

God of war.

I wasn’t going to win against him right now, not under his brutal kiss, but at least the surrender was sweet. Like when he’d proposed, time slowed. He stripped away the armor I’d put up to protect myself, one seductive kiss at a time, until I was laid bare. Then he delivered the final blow with a sweep of his tongue and left me trembling.

His mouth carved a path down my neck.

“What I’m doing right now? This is nothing.” His voice was whisper soft but still packed its defiant punch. “Every party we go to, every time we’re out together, I’m going to have my mouth on you. My hands all over you.” As he spoke, his lips brushed over my sensitized skin. “I don’t give a fuck who’s watching or if we make a scene. I want you, Marist. I want you so badly it scares me.”

Desire snaked through my veins like a drug he’d administered.

My resistance to him might have cracked, just a little, which was incredibly dangerous. He’d slip inside the fractures, fill them up, and split me open. I’d become the foolish mortal worshiping at the temple of a god who didn’t care. He wasn’t capable.

Was he?

“Your phone is ringing,” the makeup artist said abruptly, jarring me from my thoughts. Since my dress didn’t have pockets, she’d offered to hold on to it for me, and now she thrust the phone my direction.

I scrambled up off Royce’s lap and took the phone. One look at the screen and worry sliced through me. My mother never called, not unless something was wrong. I tapped the screen, and before I’d brought the phone to my ear, she started speaking.

“Marist,” she said in a panicked rush. “We’re taking Emily to the emergency room. I found her—”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“—and there was so much blood. It’s just awful. Will you meet us there?”

Cold dread froze my limbs in place. “Mom, slow down. What happened?”

Hearing the fear in my voice had Royce on his feet. I turned away from him, not wanting the concerned look streaked on his face to distract me as I tried to focus on what she was saying.

“She’d been cramping all morning, but I thought it was normal. I had some spotting with both you girls.” Her tone was crushed with guilt. “I told her not to worry, Marist. I thought if she took a nap, she’d feel better.”

I couldn’t catch my breath, and without thought, my legs started churning, carrying me through the maze toward the house. I needed my car keys. “Which hospital? Port Cove?”