Page 20 of Shadows of Obsession
Sofia is a good girl, hardworking, and the last person she should worry about is my brother. I'll never understand how some people don't see all the red flags in a person or why they choose to ignore them.
Niko is the definition of a womanizer. He's three years younger than me, which has always given him the peace of mind that he's not next in the power hierarchy and, as such, he is much more relaxed and charismatic than I am. A bitter laugh escapes me when I think that I'm the one who has to give public speeches even though just two hours ago I was breaking someone into pieces.
Someone blew up an entire weapons warehouse, and even though I already know who's behind the action, we managed to catch a lackey less than a mile from the location. The fool stayed to watch the explosion instead of getting to safety.
One man's stupidity is another man's luck.
"Stop worrying about Niko, Sofia," I tell her in a tone that I hope makes her understand he's not the right man.
Neither am I. In this world, you're here today, gone tomorrow. Choosing to love someone in the mafia is the biggest mistake you can make, and yet when I look at her, I see resilience in her gaze.
"I worry about him like I would about you, Roman. You were the only one who helped me when I needed it."
She barely gets the last word out before a business partner joins us, trying to secure some forecasts for the next quarter.
I can already feel exhaustion consuming me, and I know tomorrow morning won't be one of relaxation.
Do you even remember what relaxation is?
One more evening, I repeat to myself. One more day. One more week. The problem is I don't know how many such mantras I can repeat until I crack. Every aspect of our business is approved directly by me. Every decision passes through me. Every shipment falls on my shoulders to arrive on time. And all these factors, for years, have been gnawing away at the control I try to cling to.
I've got my people in every key position, but it doesn't matter how good they are - the demons inside me need to know every detail, feed on that absolute control.
I'm heading for the door when I hear it - a voice like velvet wrapping around my senses. That slight huskiness mixed with feminine sweetness stops me in my tracks. I know that voice, especially when it's got that edge of irritation. No need to rush out there. From my spot in the hallway, I can see Luna dealing with some suit who's clearly had too much of the free champagne.
What is it about this woman that attracts exactly the unstable ones?
"Tim, are you even hearing yourself? The vodka's doing the talking here," Luna's voice carries down the hall.
I edge closer, keeping to the shadows, listening.
"Come on, Luna, you know that code architecture inside out. Think how much cash you could make reproducing it."
This drunk idiot has no idea he just talked his way into losing his career.
And his life.
I force that thought down. Here, I'm the CEO. Not the Russian mafia's pakhan.
"Tim, I'm going to chalk this up to the alcohol and get you a cab. You need to sleep this off," her velvet voice replies.
She tries to step away, but this fool just signed his death warrant by grabbing her arm. Even from here, I can see his fingers digging into her skin, leaving marks.
"You breathe a word of this to anyone, Luna, and you've got no idea the hell I'll rain down on you." His words slur out between strings of drunk spittle.
I can see her profile in the dim light, and something primal stirs in my chest. Her freckles stand out against flushed skin - stress painting her cheeks pink. She holds her chin high, defiant even now.
She's gorgeous in that dress that clings to every curve like it was made for her. The kind of curves I want writhing beneath me, that velvet voice crying out my name. Those cinnamon waves cascade down her back, framing her face like a crown. Makes her look like some warrior princess - beautiful but dangerous.
Where did you fall from, Luna?
But I don't have time to analyze her because in the next second, I step out from behind the column where I've been standing and grab this wretch by the shoulder, throwing him down.
I don't know if the alcohol he's ingested helps, but I'm sure I used more force than necessary. I can't help myself, so I hit him exactly where I know the pain will constantly radiate through his ribs. My foot makes contact with his abdomen, and I’d like to crush his liver, but a voice reminds me we're not alone in this hallway. I turn toward Luna while adjusting my suit, which got wrinkled in the altercation.
"Third time's the charm - maybe try attracting them when they're not under the influence of alcohol. It's not fun saving you when all these idiots are drunk when I get my hands on them." I try to make my tone sound playful, but her gaze is still fixed on Tim.
Her eyes are as big as saucers while analyzing the scene, and I know the moment my gaze lands on hers that this girl has seen things she shouldn't have. The same pain and darkness hide behind a green veil that seems to be gripped by panic.
