The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

As the next week passed, each day, I fell in love with something else. With his smell—the way it made my eyes half-lidded and my toes curl in satisfaction. With his hands—the way they made everything else go away. With his voice—the way it could be so rough and sweet at the same time.

I had practically moved in. My stuff was everywhere. Three bottles of lotion sat on the coffee table, and he hadn’t complained once about how they weren’t lined up neat in a row.

He didn’t like it, though, when I moved his stuff around. I’d hear a grumpy, “Gianna,” and something like, “There’s a reason I put my stuff where it is.” I was sure it was somewhere between crazy and nutso.

He watched The Princess Bride with me.

He didn’t like it.

He played chess with me.

I was a sore loser.

We even played our own version of twenty questions. As long as I stayed away from his childhood and his mother, I was in the clear. Though, I’d soon find out the no-go zone was broader than that.

“Would you visit my grave if I died?”

His eyes grew dark. “I’d die before you were ever in a grave, malyshka.”

I loved his possessive side.

And I loved his dark side, too.

WE HADN’T BEEN ANYWHERE IN public since the last failure of a dinner party. What we had—whatever we had—was working well. But of course, Christian Allister always had to go and complicate things.

“Where are you going?” he asked as I got out of bed and stretched.

“Church.” I yawned. “It’s been, like, a month since I’ve gone, and every time I have premarital sex with you, I swear, I can feel the fires of hell creeping up my back.”

He chuckled and sat up on the side of bed. “I’ll come with you.”

I froze. “What? No. Christian, you can’t come with.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . .” I sputtered. “People will think we’re together.”

His eyes hardened. “You sleep in my bed every goddamn night, Gianna.”

“You’re not even Catholic!”

“I’m whatever you are.”

I had no response for that because it was ridiculous.

I didn’t think Nico would have a problem with me dating anyone, even though I’d never quite tested that theory out. I was technically under his protection and, therefore, rules, but I liked to think of myself as a free agent more than anything. However, I did know everyone in the Russo family had either seen or heard some squabble between Christian and me, and if we showed up at church together, I would never hear the end of it.

“Everyone thinks we hate each other.”

He walked toward me and trailed a thumb across my cheek. “Then let’s show them we can get on just fine.”

I bit my lip.

“Are you going to deny me my salvation?”

I couldn’t stop the smile, and then shook my head and let out a frustrated groan because of it.

We showered together, like always, but the difference was he seemed withdrawn while we got ready, almost guilty. And that started a prickle of alarm at the base of my back. I didn’t know what he was up to or why he wanted to go to church with me, but I was beginning to think it was for nefarious reasons.