Page 18 of The Obsession
“She’s with my neighbour. I’m here for a meeting,” I answer, flicking my chin towards the table in the back where a few of the guys already sit.
My reply has her face falling slightly. Did she think I was here to see her? Or is she judging me for the company I keep?
“Would you like a glass of water while you wait?”
The fact that she remembers what I drank last time I was here pleases me, since it was many months ago. It’s such a small thing, but it feels intimate, like I’ve left a mark somehow.
“Sure.”
She places her hand briefly on my forearm, and a spark races through me. It’s unexpected, fleeting, and impossible to ignore. What is it with this woman?
“Take a seat,” she says as she drops her arm back down by her side and retreats a step. “I’ll bring it right over.”
At least twenty of our top guys are present for the meeting. Dante is situated at the head of the table, with Romeo, his underboss, on one side, and Edoardo, theFamiglia’sconsigliere(Family’s advisor), seated on the other. He’s anolder guy, way past his prime if you ask me, but maybe with age comes wisdom, like Mrs B said the day we officially met.
This is only the second time I’ve met him, the first being at my blood oath initiation, but there’s something about him I don’t like.
Maybe it’s his shifty eyes, or the way he’s practically eye fucking Emily when Dante motions her over to our table by raising two fingers in the air.
She comes to a stop right near me, but for once, I’m not paying attention to her; my gaze is locked firmly on that slimy old fucker.
Technically, I know there’s not much I can do, especially here with an audience. He’s higher up than me, the Don’s right hand, the man who whispers in his ear.
In the Mafia, rank and respect are everything. They’re what keep order in a world built on chaos. Hierarchy dictates who gives the orders, who follows them, and who bleeds if something goes wrong. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and watch him disrespect her. If he so much as lays one fucking finger on Emily, rank won’t mean a damn thing. I’ll make him pay for it, consequences be damned.
“Can we get another round of drinks before the food arrives?” Dante asks respectfully.
This may not be the life I wanted for myself, and I probably wouldn’t have even agreed to it if it weren’t for him. Dante’s the kind of man you follow, not because you have to, but because you want to.
He leads with a steady hand, never raises his voice unless he means it, and when he looks at you, you know he sees everything. I’ve witnessed men twice his age bow their heads when he walks into a room, and not out of fear, but respect.
Edoardo could certainly take a leaf out of his boss’s bookand learn what real leadership looks like instead of hiding behind his title and creeping on women a third of his age.
A low growl rumbles in the back of my throat when he leans back in his chair and rubs his filthy fucking hands together. His eyes move down from Emily’s face to lock on her tits as a sinister grin curves his lips. It makes my fucking blood boil, and my hands ball into fists on my lap. Emily’s got no idea he’s currently undressing her with his eyes.
I catch her in my peripheral vision, fishing her notepad out of the front pocket of her apron, and it’s not until I hear something clink on the floor beside me that I finally tear my eyes away from Edoardo. When I glance down, an inhaler lies by my boot. Does she have asthma? Why does the idea of her needing something to help her breathe unsettle me so much?
I bend down to pick it up and notice something else has rolled under the table, a Chapstick. I set the inhaler on the table while she busily writes on her notepad, but instead of picking up the other item, I trap it under my foot. I’m keeping that.
She moves around the table, and when it’s time for Edoardo to place his order, I grind my back teeth. I can already tell he’s going to say something I won’t like.
He steeples his hands together as he sits forward in his seat. “I know what I want,” he says, giving Emily a calculating smile, “but I’m not sure if it’s on the menu.”
“We have an extensive range of alcohol to choose from,” she says brightly, completely unaware of the innuendo dripping from his tone. “I can bring you the drinks menu if you’d like.”
Edoardo leans back in his chair, assessing her like she’s prey. “I think I’d like you to show me that menu,” he says, his voice smooth and casual, but the glint in his eyes makes me want to lunge across the table and tear him limb from limb.
My jaw tightens painfully. When Emily hurries away to get the menu, I bend down, grab the Chapstick, and slip it into my pocket before pinning that sleazy cunt with a death stare.
His eyes are glued to her arse, completely oblivious to the fact that I’m seconds away from ending his life.
I may not be able to kill anyone in theFamigliawithout Dante’s authority, but I could make him disappear, and nobody would ever suspect me.
My nostrils flare as I inhale through my nose, trying to rein in the monster that is clawing at my insides.
When she returns, I hit my limit. She hands him the brown-leather folder that contains the lists of drinks available; he just smirks. “I left my glasses at home. Could you read it for me?” he asks.
“Sure,” she replies with an easy smile.
