Page 7 of King of Obsession

Luciana, don’t fucking come for me.It would be a pity to slice your throat and watch the blood paint your flawless skin.

My lids grow heavy, and as I close my eyes, her image is the last coherent thought I have.

My phone vibrates, yanking me awake. Fuck, I fell asleep in my chair at my desk. Wouldn’t be the first time.

I answer my sister as I stand up, cracking my neck to loosen my sore muscles. It’s still dark outside, the city lights being the only ones awake at this late hour.

“She’s here.”

Luciana works fast. Determined little thing. I walk toward the big window. I catch my reflection and realize I am smiling. What the fuck is wrong with me? If I didn’t know better,I’d say I am giddy for the events to take place, bored-of-life-motherfucker.

“She checked into the hotel across from you. Maybe—”

“I have this. Thanks, sis. And now go to sleep. That’s an order.”

From her deep exhale, I know she wants to rebut my request. I can hear her fuming, but I am the head of the Family, and she must obey me. The bouts of anger she suppresses sustain my belief that one day, my sister will resurface, not just pieces of her colorful and fiery personality, but all of her.

I won’t hide in my penthouse just because Luciana’s here. My windows on the top level are bulletproof—reinforced to survive even an atomic blast. And she will find that out.

Let’s play cat and mouse, Silver Death, shall we?

Her sniper skills are her forte. So, I cock my head, thinking the most logical thing is for her to shoot me from the rooftop of the building across the street. I’ve heard she’s so good, she can hit a target right in the chest, even from two miles away.

Just then, something hits the glass. As I stare at it, I see the trajectory of the bullet. If it had been successful, it would have hit me right between the eyes. First attempt failed. I bet she didn’t see that one coming.

I smirk as I slide my hands in my pockets, seemingly unperturbed. I know full well she can see me through the riflescope. A few more shots follow, one after the other, not even scratching the glass. Is Miss Assassin so easily riled up? Her hand-eye coordination is impressive if she reloads that quickly.Why in such a hurry though?

It’s insulting that she thinks she can take me down that fast and with no preparation. You fucked up, Luciana.

“Oops,” I mouth and turn my back to her, going straight for the shower.

Along the pristine white walls, pictures in black and white hang, just like the rest of my penthouse—minimalist yet with the finest amenities. I might not need much, but I want my stuff to be of the best quality.

Something buzzes under my skin, something akin to excitement.

I must truly be deranged. I am enjoying this game too much.

As the water flows down my back, killing ideas run through my head. The platinum cross and rose pendant I am wearing rests against my chest. It’s the one thing I never take off. A reminder there is something bigger beyond us. Or maybe I am wrong and there is nothing, but this is one bet I won’t win or lose.

One of us will die. And while I don’t seek my end, the people I love will be in great hands. That knowledge offers me comfort but also motivates me to stay, endure, and do my fucking best to be there for them.

Sorry, Silver Death. I can’t let you win. Your record ends here.

My breath hitches, and my hands shake with the surge of outrage rolling through my bloodstream. There’s no way I failed! This shit didn’t just happen. I refuse to believe the reality punching me straight in my gut, unbalancing me.

As if my failure is not bad enough, he knows that I am here, but the worst thing was him taunting me. The arrogant asshole should have been dead, lying in a pool of blood. And I should have had a glass of wine in celebration before I’d pack my stuff and leave first thing in the morning. In and out.

That’s why you don’t rush a job.But I couldn’t risk Augustus confirming his suspicion. It was my eagerness to get my fingers on the information sooner, and now I butchered my hit. It should have been an easy job: clean and fast.

While I am an expert in killing a man in ten different ways, my go-to is pulling the trigger on my B&T USA300SPR PRO—my precise, silent, and deadly beauty of a rifle. It’s Swiss-made,and they’re known for quality. This silver, compact rifle has never let me down.

I stand up on unsteady legs, a gust of wind brushing my cheeks. Night is the best time for a hit, cloaked by darkness and people’s fake notion of safety as they close themselves in their houses. I’ve missed my best chance. Packing my rifle in my bag, I leave the rooftop and return to my hotel suite.

Pacing, I see the bottle of wine chilling on the table in the living room, one of the finest in the world, with a crystal glass ready for me to indulge. Ignoring the glass, I uncork the bottle and drink from it, bypassing my celebratory ritual.

Gulping some down, I go through my next steps, anticipating Enzo to arrive with guns blazing, but as I stare at my classic watch—a Cartier Tank with a silver frame on a black leather strap—twenty minutes pass and nothing happens. This man is strange.

Going to the window, I see him through my binoculars, and the sight has my jaw dropping. He’s fresh out of the shower, the towel hanging low on his hips. Esthetically, he looks pleasing enough, I guess. Fine, he looks delectable. His body appears to be cut from marble, chiseled with planes and ridges of muscles—a testament to male physical perfection.