Sociopath's Obsession (Sociopath #1)

by V. F. Mason

  “You’re lucky then.”

  His face got a wistful expression as he gazed ahead of him at the crystal chandelier.

  “Luck is a fickle thing, Sapphire. Believe me.” His hands fisted, but then he relaxed, put one arm behind me, and sat closer. “Any plans for the night?”

  “Getting laid.” He froze beside me, and I slapped my hand on my mouth, dying in mortification because of what I just said. Did I seriously let the guy know I was looking for a hookup? Who does that? This was just ridiculous on so many levels, but there was no way of taking those words back. “It’s been a long time for me,” I added defensively, and if it was possible, it made him tense beside me even more. What was this guy’s deal anyway? “Not that the last time was anything spectacular, mind you, but at least I got off.” Well, if we were counting the actual sex and not what happened with his brother. Because his brother had some spectacular skills.

  His hand covered my mouth, so I finally shut up and part of me was grateful for that. Maybe the drink had some truth serum added?

  “No need to continue.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry for ruining your plans.” He looked down, let go of me, and placed his drink back on the table while trying to adjust his damn glasses again, which kept sliding down his nose. To some extent, the whole action was adorable.

  “You didn’t ruin it. It was a stupid idea anyway.” What were we doing here in this club where everything felt out of place? None of it ever appealed to me, and he didn't seem like the type either. Who were we trying to fool? Making up my mind, I stood up to his utter confusion and gave him my hand.

  “Want to get away from here?”

  His eyes widened in surprise and he opened his mouth, but then his eyes rose and his expression hardened. Curious about what got such a reaction from him, I glanced behind me, but there was nothing but mirrors. When my eyes were back on him, his expression was closed off and he shook his head. “I can’t go right now.”

  And he needed to look into the mirror to come to this conclusion?

  His reply stung. I wasn't offering sex or anything, just a walk on the streets in New York, but clearly he wasn't interested.

  I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to smile, acting fine when I was anything but.

  “Right. Okay, then. I have to go. I have an early shift tomorrow at work.” Which wasn't a complete lie, even though translating word documents didn't require me to get out of the house. He stood up and made a move toward me, but I took one back.

  “Sapphire.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Without waiting for his reply, I quickly moved through the bodies and inhaled the fresh air outside the club, enjoying the cooling sensations of the wind on my skin. To my surprise, a cab was waiting for me, which almost never happened in such places, so I got inside after giving my address and tried to forget this bizarre night.

  The side of my head rested on the window and I closed my eyes. The image of the sinful stranger, the club owner, popped in my mind and a tremor ran through me.

  His kisses, his touches, his smell. He was a constant guest in my dreams; thoughts of him made me wake up sweaty and needy, not that anything helped to dull the ache.

  And he didn't even remember my name.

  Hysterical laughter came out of my mouth and I was powerless to stop it. The cab driver turned and raised his brows, but said nothing, and thank God for that. Finally, when my sides started to hurt and tears ran down my cheeks, I got myself together and wished to forget all this mess.

  Then it hit me.

  I never learned their names.

  How those brothers managed to get information from me when I knew nothing about them was beyond me.

  Sociopath

  Alan was taking her home per my instructions, in the cab I had specially ordered when she started to run away from the club.

  I sent someone to keep an eye on her until she got home. As much as I wanted to punish and kidnap her, no one else was allowed to touch Sapphire. She lived in a shitty neighborhood after that family of hers disowned her.

  No one messed with what was mine.

  No one but me.

  Unfortunately, it was inevitable.

  Once inside the study, he spun me around, my back to the door as he placed his palms on the sides of my head. He gazed at me with lust-filled amber eyes as I licked my lips. His eyes followed my movements and I couldn't wait anymore. My hands grabbed his jacket, pulling him closer to me as my mouth ended up on his.

  My imagination convinced me kissing him would be like hot lava flowing over me.

  However, nothing happened. He stood there silent, with no movement. He didn't open his mouth for my tongue. My body froze as cold spread inside me. He didn't want me; how could this be? Desire filled his eyes. Humiliation had a sour taste. I let go of him and began to move away, when suddenly his hands grabbed my ass and lifted me up as a yelp escaped my mouth. My legs circled his waist as his lips instantly sought mine with a demanding and heated kiss that made my toes curl. His tongue roamed chaotically in my mouth, our teeth clashing.

  I broke the kiss as we both breathed heavily. He frowned and growled disapprovingly at my action, leaning to kiss me again, but my hands stopped him. His erection pressed against my stomach, making me wetter than I had ever been. My hands moved to circle his neck as my fingers laced through his hair and my lips closed the distance with his. I slowly licked around his lips, earning a groan from him, and then my tongue entered his mouth and enjoyed a gentle dance with his. Slowly, he settled and learned what I wanted.

  We kissed for several moments, or was it hours? He trailed his lips lower to my neck, sucking the skin gently as my lungs drew in much needed air. His hands squeezed my ass harder, probably leaving marks, not that I cared in the moment. With a swift move, he carried me to the big, wooden, black table in the middle of the room, placed me on the edge, and stepped between my legs. He moved the zipper of my dress lower, displaying my breasts. My nipples throbbed.

  “Sapphire.” His low whisper against my ear made me tremble in the best of ways. He flattened his hand on my stomach and laid me down on the table. Before I could say anything else, he licked my nipples, making me moan louder than I should. He stopped his action and removed his jacket and tie. The latter he put over my mouth, essentially gagging me.

  “Your moans are only for me.” He returned his attention to my breasts, sucking and playing with my nipples, while his hands hiked my dress up to my stomach. The cold air forced goosebumps along my exposed skin. Then he moved lower, placed a soft kiss on my stomach, and pushed my thighs wider. He nipped the tender skin then pushed my thong aside, leaving me bare for his gaze. His tongue flicked my clit then he started sucking. He flattened his tongue and lapped at my core, gently licking and pushing his tongue inside me. I raised my hips in pleasure, wanting more. His hands caressed my thighs and then he placed them over his shoulders, allowing him deeper access, and God, was it good. My hands tugged on his hair, and my heels closed around his back. My body was on fire, every touch bringing newer sensations until one of the most powerful pleasures overtook me.

  “Mine,” he softly whispered.

  Sapphire

  “Stupid, so damn stupid.” Muttering those words to myself probably didn't change anything, but it was a good way of reminding myself how stupid a female mind could be.

  I grabbed my favorite mug and poured in my green mint tea, strolled to the big window in the kitchen, and opened it up to admire the rain pouring heavily from the sky. I inhaled deeply the smell of freshly soaked granite while some raindrops touched the skin of my face and neck. The tickling sensations made me laugh lightheartedly. No better weather than a cloudy day.

  So back to last night. I had the perfect guy to spend a good night with; despite being geeky, he was interesting to talk to and made me feel comfortable.

  My mistake hit me the minute I came to the empty apartment I couldn't make a home, no matter how hard I tried. I was alone once again, and for some reason, yesterda
y made me mad. However, a little part of me laughed at all this, and I couldn’t help but think about one good point.

  He wasn't the same as his brother. But I felt even worse, because I saw his twin out front of the club for only a minute and couldn't forget his eyes.

  Something about the brother I met last night spoke to me on a deep level, although his touches didn't inspire a raging inferno inside me. Yet one touch from his club-owning twin to my chin, and my body trembled just from the memory.

  Here I was the next morning, wearing my sweatpants and a sweater, drinking tea alone in a cold apartment, because no matter how much I tried, it was impossible to get warm in this hole. The heaters didn’t work, and the walls were so thin I heard the neighbors screwing each other’s brains out every night. Not to mention the constant problem with the water. Unfortunately, my salaries combined didn't allow me to have better when it came to two-room apartment hunting in New York. The only choices left were to suck it up and always remember to wear a sweater, drink something hot, and under no circumstances flush the toilet when the shower was on. Pretty simple rules.

  Sophie hadn't checked in yet, but I wasn't worried. She usually came back in the afternoon when she had a one-night stand, and it wasn't as if she had a job to attend. I sounded bitter, but I’d had enough. I was young too and wanted to have some fun. She had to either find a job or be on her own. This place was big enough for two, but I’d rather rent something smaller and cozier, not to mention in a better neighborhood.

  My job wasn’t until evening, so I had some time to work on the paper I was writing for some extra cash. I guess all those Spanish and French classes I hated came in handy after all, because translating made me some good money, which allowed me to have a savings account.

  I opened my laptop and was about to start working, when a new e-mail notification distracted me. Maybe it was another job. I could use more money. I was excited when I clicked on my inbox, and then I frowned when it said ‘Anonymous,’ but whatever. Money was money. Finally, it opened, but the words I read left me frozen and terrified.

  It couldn't be.

  Why would I get this e-mail?

  I had watched the news like every other person and knew about his victims, or rather whatever was left of them. They just disappeared, and a few weeks later, their remains were found in the weirdest places.

  Sociopath.

  He was a sociopath, and he always e-mailed his victims that they were about to be taken. Sick, cold bastard who loved it when people suffered.

  But why does he want me? The only time I ever did something wrong was a year ago, and I paid for it dearly.

  Panic hit me, and the mug slipped out of my hand to the floor and shattered into tiny little pieces, the sound deafening me for a second.

  What was I supposed to do? Ask for help?

  Police? I didn't trust them, not after what happened last year. Then a memory flashed in my mind, taking me back to that fateful night when everything went wrong in my life.

  My coat was soaked from all the rain as I was sitting on the bench, and my body was so cold. My boots had water inside them. Probably all this would lead to pneumonia.

  None of those things registered in my mind though; numbness consumed me. Besides the clothes I was wearing and a half-broken phone in my pocket, I had nothing.

  No family.

  No home.

  Not even clothes.

  Nothing.

  In that moment, a weak part of me wished I had never found those papers on my father’s desk and read all the bad things he had done. I wished I’d never gone to the one person who worked for Dad and sold me out. I could have lived in oblivion not knowing where everything came from, what kind of person gave life to me.

  The other part, the one that was brave, preferred to die on the fucking street than live off the money that came from my family.

  My hand went inside my pocket and took out the card with a name and number on it. Mary gave it to me before I left the house for good. She instructed me to use it if I felt I was in danger. The person whose name was on the card would help deal with whatever problem I had.

  My situation sucked, but it was better than the near-fatal problem it could have been.

  I put the card back inside, took a deep breath, stood up, and, as I was walking in the direction of Sophie’s house, I prayed I’d never have to use this number.

  I quickly went to my room where I dug into the pocket of my worn-out coat. The card was still there. It was wrinkled from the rain and the number was washed out. My stomach sank, but then I noticed there was still an address attached, along with the name.

  Without another thought, I changed my clothes, grabbed some money and my cell, and left the house. The broken mug would have to wait.

  I left my laptop on with the e-mail displayed that said only one word, but had a lethal meaning to my life.

  Sociopath

  Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door firmly and took a step back. I got here as fast as possible, but now I was getting nervous.

  It was a luxurious building in the Upper East Side; in fact, my parents lived only a few blocks away. I used to love the architecture and the extravagance of it, but right now, it all felt out of place here. In fact, the name on the card finally settled in my mind.

  Dominic Scott.

  If my family was considered rich, they were nothing close to the Scott Empire. I’d never met them. My dad dreamed of doing business with them, but they always said no. I hoped it wouldn't factor in with him helping me, but I came too far to walk away without trying to convince him that my life was worth something. Mary never would have given me his number if he weren’t a man who kept his promises. At least, that was what I kept saying to myself all the way here.

  No one answered the door after my first try, but as I raised my hand to knock again, the door swiftly opened, and everything inside me froze.

  The man was shirtless, which showed off his perfect abs. He only wore a pair of jeans that were still unbuttoned and his feet were bare. His long hair was loose, and his amber eyes were sleepy and tired. All I wanted to do at that point was run into his arms and let him save me.

  He was the last man I would have expected to see behind the door.

  “Hey.” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “I’m looking for Dominic Scott?” I licked my lips, and it didn't escape my notice that he followed the movements of my tongue with his eyes. Then he raised them back up and fury filled them. I took a step back.

  “He’s asleep.” His voice was low and husky. “What do you want?” He didn't even try to hide his annoyance with me, as if the moment we shared last year didn't happen. I was hurt, and how freaking ridiculous was that?

  It meant nothing.

  And was he related to Dominic, or maybe…

  God, was he his boyfriend?

  “I would have liked to talk to him.” My voice shook slightly, but it was hard to keep myself calm when he was acting this way. I was already terrified out of my mind, and he wasn't helping the situation much.

  He cursed then grabbed my hand. It felt like electricity ran through us as he pulled me inside the room and closed the front door. Then he pointed at the couch in the middle of the living room, and I understood I had to sit there. As I sat, I looked around and noticed the room was very stylish, in a bachelor kind of way. Everything was in shades of brown. He didn't have much inside the apartment: sofas and chairs, a table, a bar, and then a large window that probably looked over an amazing view of New York City. Although it wasn't a penthouse, it was still high. Views from this neighborhood usually never disappointed.

  “I’m going to wake him up, and he’ll be here in a minute.” I just nodded, and he went upstairs, leaving me alone and nervous.

  My attention shifted to a picture on the piano that was placed near the middle of the room. The two boys, who couldn't have been more than six years old, hugged each other, wearing pirate costumes and flashing smiles with missing teeth. So adorable
it made me smile. I had no idea boys could be so pretty, let alone at this age. I picked the picture up, ran my finger around the frame, and then flipped it around, shocked to see the date and the words written on the back.

  My sweet little boys.

  Mama will always love you.

  Dominic and Damian

  October, 1991

  Those words brought tears to my eyes, and my heart hurt from the pain evident in those lines. They spoke of such longing, as though she was never going to see them again, as though it was a last token of her affection.

  Maybe she died of cancer. I lost my nana to it and knew how devastating it could be.

  No one would write such words if they didn't truly love their child. A part of me was grateful those boys had such a loving mother.

  “It was our birthday. We turned six and wanted to be damned pirates. Well, Damian did; I wanted to be Peter Pan. Thank God he made sure I wasn’t.” The firm yet gentle voice broke the spell the picture had on me, and I spun around to face him.

  Oh, my God.

  My stranger from the club?

  He had on a t-shirt and sweatpants, and quite honestly, it was hard to tell them apart. The only difference was his huge glasses and the bun behind his head. They probably got it a lot. He watched me closely for a moment and then laughed.

  “Don’t worry. It’s me.” Yeah, it was him. The only difference was that he was nice and kind, and his brother was anything but.

  “So it’s you?” He frowned in confusion and came closer to me. I placed the card in his hand. “Mary gave this to me.” His eyes were looking downward, so it was hard for me to know what he was thinking. When he raised them back to me, his gaze was unreadable.

  “What’s wrong, Sapphire?”

  I gulped and tried to hold back the escaping tears that were sliding down my cheeks. He removed the frame from my hands and put it back on the piano. Then his hand covered mine.