Page 1 of Scorned Obsession

Prologue

Bianca

“Lose the boyfriend.”

My spine stiffened in outrage before I turned to face my stalker, Alessandro “Sandro” Rossi. Never mind that it was my brother Nico’s wedding. Lurking at De Lucci gatherings was nothing new to him. He’d made a sport out of it, and he continued to aggravate and confound the hell out of me.

“You’re seriously going to do this here?” I snapped.

We were standing a foot apart. If I were any closer, I might smack him on the shoulder, but I was determined that he wasn’t even getting that reaction from me. It was time for me to move on from the unhealthy obsession I had with him. Now if only my heart would listen to my head and stop speeding up every time he was near.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” A muscle pulsed at his stubble-covered jaw. I kept my gaze from wandering over his tux-clad body, but I’d spied him earlier. He was hard to miss when he decided to be seen. His clothes clung to his six-four frame andthe formality of the attire did nothing to leash the feral power emanating from its seams.

Challenging Sandro with my eyes wasn’t the brightest idea either, because his dark brown eyes saw through any bullshit I threw at him. It also hurt to look at his heartbreakingly handsome face, carved of sharp angles and chiseled to perfection. They belonged to an avenging angel. It suited his profession as a hit man for the mob.

I raised a brow. “And you?”

“Especially not me.”

“Then I don’t see your point. We’ve been through this dance a million times, Sandro. Every time I date someone, you and your brutish self show up and scare him away.”

“That’s why they don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, and somehow you consider yourself the barometer?” I scoffed. “You’re not my father. Nor are you my brother. And newsflash, Sandro, even they don’t have a say in who I date nowadays. So what makes you think you do?”

He stepped closer and cupped my cheek in a tender gesture. Even his eyes gentled from their murderous glint earlier. “I care enough.”

I jerked my face out of his grasp. “Really?”

“I’m saving myself the trouble of having to kill someone who might hurt you.”

I inhaled sharply. I never had proof, and I suspected…but was Sandro finally admitting… I backed away. Goose bumps chased each other all over my skin. “Rest assured that won’t happen with Ethan.”

“You’re playing it safe.” His gaze pierced into me. “But will he make you happy?”

“I’ve been dating Ethan for a month and I assure you, he makes me very happy. I’m sure you’ve done your research, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

His mouth curved into a semblance of a sneer. “You’re into Ivy League investment banker types now?”

“Correction—hedge fund managers,” I shot back. “I may like them.”

“If he hurts you?—”

“That’s getting old,old man.” The mockery steeping my last two words didn’t escape him, and his eyes flared. From irritation? From challenge? Sandro was nine years older than my twenty-three. Not ancient by any means, but old enough to taunt him about our age gap. “You know, sometimes you have to experience hurt before you get a happily ever after. It’s called love. Experience its ups and downs and what it takes to love someone with all your heart.”

He didn’t say anything to this, but his eyes grew guarded. As much as Sandro controlled his facial expressions to a microscopic degree, I’d known him long enough that when his eyes turned flat, he was struggling to hide emotions from me. Whatever. I was sick and tired of his interference and him jerking me around. I didn’t understand him anymore. I’d never had a boyfriend that didn’t compel him to stick his nose into since I turned nineteen. He was worse than my brothers and Dad combined.

“Now, please, leave me alone.”

“You heard my sister,” a voice said behind us.

Sandro looked past my shoulder, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Lorenzo,” he drawled.

I whipped around. My boyfriend, Ethan, stood worriedly beside my youngest brother, Renz. I didn’t even have to turn around to see Sandro’s smug smile. No boyfriend of mine had ever stood up to the mere presence of Alessandro Rossi.

“Great party,” he said. “Give my regards to the bride and groom. I better head back to the club.”

I didn’t turn to say goodbye, but I knew he’d left.

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