Page 45 of Veil of Obsession
Behind Eli, a wall of surveillance monitors flickers—grainy footage of the fight cages, the bar, the entrance. Every angle of the club is under his constant watch. No one steps foot in here without him knowing.
The fight club hums outside—the distant sound of fists meeting flesh, the roar of a crowd hungry for blood.
But in here, there’s only silence.
The news blares, filling the room with the clipped, professional voice of some anchor.
“Breaking news: this evening, the body of twenty-two-year-old Dana Hoffman, daughter of businessman Ernest Hoffman, was discovered in the woods near the Astoria Regent estate. Authorities estimate the time of death to be between three weeks and a month ago. The family had attended the charity gala held at the hotel approximately one month prior.”
I lean back in my chair, fingers tapping against the armrest.
Dana’s dead.
I should care. I don’t.
A sharp slam jerks me from my thoughts. Emiliano’s palm hits the desk, the force rattling the glass of whiskey beside him.
“Do you know what the fuck you’ve cost us?” His voice is razor-sharp, laced with the kind of controlled fury that makes men flinch.
I don’t.
I tilt my head slightly, watching him with detached amusement. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, bro.”
His nostrils flare. “Don’t play fucking dumb.” He points to the TV. “That. The Hoffmans are breathing down our necks, and you paraded one of their daughters on your arm when someone is out to get you.”
I exhale, dragging a hand over my jaw. “They think I had something to with it?”
Eli’s laugh is dry, humorless. “This is the second Hoffman girl to end up dead. And both of them were in your orbit.” He narrows his eyes. “What do you think?”
I roll my shoulders, unbothered.
“Coincidence,” I mutter.
Eli leans in, his tone dropping into something low and dangerous. “It’s not a fucking coincidence. It’s a problem. There have been countless girls that have been found dead after being with you.”
He pauses, watching for my reaction.
“The feds have also opened a file to investigate if it could be a serial killer. And the only thing at the moment tying those girls together is you. You’ll be number one on their suspect list.”
“Meaning?” I ask.
“Meaning you’ll be under watch twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And your apartment risks being bugged to catch you. You’ve become a liability for the Camorra.”
I watch him, my smirk fading slightly. Because he’s right. The Hoffmans are powerful. Not as powerful as us, not like the Camorra, but enough. Enough to make this a pain in the ass. Never mind the damn FBI.
I’m so fucked.
Eli watches me carefully, reading me the way he always does. He presses his palms against the desk, exhaling sharply. “The Hoffmans want something in exchange.”
That makes me pause.
I tilt my head. “What?”
Eli doesn’t answer right away. And that tells me I’m not going to like it.
“The Hoffmans want one of their daughters married into our family. They’re demanding we ‘merge’ our bloodlines.”
“Why would they want that?” I ask, bemused.
