Page 36 of King of Obsession

I grip her chin and bring her mouth almost to mine so my next words will tattoo on her insides.

“You. All of you.” Then I slam my mouth onto hers, losing myself in her addictive taste.

It’s not a threat; it’s simply the truth, like the moon affects the tides, and the sun sets in the West.

I need to prepare this stubborn woman for the undeniable outcome. I am not playing games, but fuck, I’ve never even thought it was possible to meet someone I would want to share my life with. I used to laugh when my father told me he saw my mother and was taken so aback. Instead of saying hello first, he introduced himself and asked her to marry him.

If he saw me now, he’d be the one laughing at me.

Yeah, life serves the best irony.

When the kiss ends, we’re both breathless. She has a dazed look on her face, and I give her ass cheek a little squeeze when the driver says, “We’re here, sir.”

As he parks, Luciana rummages in her clutch and dabs a wet napkin on my lips. While I find the gesture endearing, I don’t mind if everyone sees I am taken before she reapplies her lipstick. Once she’s done, I wait for her outside, offering her my arm.

The restaurant is my newest project, a white villa with a large garden and a pool stretching on each side of the pavement, catering to the wealthy who love to splurge on a culinary journey surrounded by pure luxury.

It’s a fine dining restaurant that will open tomorrow, but I wanted to bring her as the first guest.

As she takes everything in, her eyes shine with awe, and a sense of pride swells in my chest.

Climbing the marble stairs, the high black hardwood door opens. The inside is even more spectacular—all marble with golden statues placed in each corner. Big French windows span the building.

Upstairs, there are exclusive suites, each with a unique theme, offering a one of a kind experience.

As the maître d’ welcomes us to our table that is set in the middle of the room, a quartet plays in the background just for us. Crystal chandeliers hang from above, their reflections shimmering on the polished parquet floor.

At the round table, there is no menu. It’s a seven-course meal that the best chef money can buy will prepare for us.

The server, dressed impeccably in a tux, brings a bottle of wine. After I tip my head that it’s okay, he pours each of us a glass, then he retreats.

“You sure know how to wine and dine a woman.”

“I am not dining and wining just any woman. You have acquired tastes, Luciana. I can meet them.”

“So sure of yourself.” She rests her elbows on the table and her face between her palms, giving in to the serene atmosphere. “Let’s give in to this fantasy of yours.”

I cock a brow. “Fantasy? You’re funny even when you don’t try to be, amore.”

She rims with her finger over the glass, looking me straight in the eyes. “In your fantasy, I most probably betray Augustus and indirectly the Council to come here and play as the little wifey?”

“You’d be my partner, Luciana. I know exactly the type of woman you are, but yes, marriage would be implied.”

“Why?” she asks, her eyes widening as if the notion is preposterous.

I shrug. “You’re Italian.”

“We don’t know for sure.”

I wave a hand through the air, dismissing the so-called inconvenience. It wouldn’t make a difference to me. “I was your first, so even the traditionalists would be okay with our marriage.”

The tip of her nose crinkles. “A barbaric ritual.”

“One I abolished.”

“Such a modern man.” She purses her lips. “I would drive you crazy, and I am high maintenance.”

“I have more money than you could spend.”

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