Page 47 of Mafia Obsession

This news hits my chest like I’ve fallen fifty feet into water, face first. “Moving? Where?”

He smiles in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Don’t fucking ask me questions. You’re my wife, and where you end up is my call.”

My stomach tightens. “Where I end up?”

“You don’t need to know the details,” he barks. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one hurts you when you get there.”

I shudder… And don’t know what part of that sentence to scream about first.

“You’re cheating on me. Face it, David. It’s over between us,” I say, following him to the bedroom where he’s loading a gun. It’s the first time I’ve seen him with any kind of weapon.

Swallowing, I back away. “Just let me go.”

He grabs my wrist and shakes it in front of my face. “This tattoo means you’remine. I own you.”

“Fuck you.” I snap out of his hold and turn to run, but I’m pulled back by my hair.

I stagger around just in time to see a fist coming right at my face. That’s the last thing I remember.

Chapter 16

Ares

Ireturn from a three-day trip to Las Vegas aggravated. With Lourdes out of my sight for several days, I feel ready to jump out of my skin. The visit was unavoidable. The Borgias, led by Don Nico Scava, are rising as the dominant Cosa Nostra in the United States. I met with Scava to discuss the Aurelian and what it will represent. He didn’t seem too impressed, sitting in his billion-dollar hotel, like he might try to make the Millennium Plaza the center for all mafia leaders.

He will understand soon enough that I plan to control where and when deals are made.

On the way home from the airport, I get a call from Atlas that David Sinclair is at Club Wicked asking to see me. So I reroute my driver to deal with him face-to-face once and for all.

“Where is he now?” I ask Atlas when I get settled into my office at the club.

“He’s bothering the servers and floor managers, asking for you.” My brother stands there, annoyed. “This guy is your new assistant’s husband?”

“Correct.”

“Are you fucking her?” he asks, leaning against the door frame. “I don’t care. Just tell me.”

“I’m not fucking another man’s wife,” I say sternly. “Daria did the standard background check on Lourdes. Her husband lit up enough red flags to start a stampede.”

“Ignoring him is the answer?”

“Oh, I have something to say to him. Bring him to my private lounge in one hour. And tell him he has precisely five minutes with me, not a second more.”

When Sinclair enters the lounge, he swaggers in like I asked to see him. I remain seated on a leather wing chair and just glare at Sinclair until it suffocates the confidence he waltzed in here with.

“Close the door on your way out, Atlas,” I tell my brother.

“Are you sure, Ares?”

I narrow my eyes at my brother for a response. Atlas leaves and Sinclair rocks on his heels.

“About fucking time.” He tries to act tough.

“I’m a busy man, Mr. Sinclair,” I say smoothly, keeping an index finger against my cheek. “What do you want?”

“A favor.”

I scoff, “You think you’re entitled to a favor?”