by Andrea Joy
Dark Obsession
A Famiglia Novel 4
Andréa Joy
Contents
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
PLAYLIST
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Andréa Joy
Dark Obsession is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Andréa Joy/A.J. Daniels
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: ©Just Write. Creations
Cover model: Cody Smith
Photographer: RPlusMPhoto
Edited by: Nikki Holt Sexton
Created with Vellum
Blurb
MASON
Dying is easy.
Living is hard.
For eight years I’ve been teetering on the brink. Wondering when it would be my turn to finally leave this place and be reunited with the love of my life.
I wasn’t looking to replace the kind of love Emily and I had. Never intended for it to find me either. Especially with someone so much younger, but something about her calls to me like a siren in the night. Before I know it, the memories of the love I lost are slowly fading and being replaced by memories of her.
But is it worth fighting for?
SOFIA
I’ve been in love with Mason James before I ever knew the meaning of the word. Our love wasn’t easy. The road to get here was messy and complicated, but all the good love stories are, right?
Now someone is threatening to destroy all we’ve worked hard to build. Someone who is obsessed with taking down my cousin and will stop at nothing even if it means destroying those who get in his way. I’m forced to make the hardest decision of my life; agree to his proposition or watch the ones I love suffer.
The decision is easy.
The lying is hard.
I just hope that when all this is over, Mason will be able to forgive me.
Dedication
To all those who stuck by and waited patiently for Mason. This book is for you.
I lost my way all the way to you and in you I found all the way back to me
- Atticus
Prologue
MASON
7.5 years ago
The amber liquid burns on the way down, the ice clinking in the glass as I lower my hand to rest on the arm of the chair. The scene in front of me should have been enough to make me forget. To keep me in the here and now where all I have to do is watch and allow my body to take over while my mind shuts down. I curse as the two women finger-fuck each other on the bed in front of me even as my dick remains soft. My own body betraying me. No matter how much bourbon I drink or how many women I bring back here with the intent of fucking, it’s never the same. It will never be the same. No woman can ever measure up to her.
My wife.
The love of my life.
The woman I fell madly in love with at fifteen. The woman I couldn’t wait to marry the minute we graduated. She was my world, with her long brunette hair and bright green eyes. We had so many dreams after we got married way too young. Finish college. Go to law school. Start a family. Em had wanted to start trying for a baby as soon as I had that law degree in my hand, but I started at the firm not too long after and begged her to wait two more years until I had time to establish myself more within the company. She agreed because she was always fucking putting my dreams ahead of her own. Two years turned into five which turned into ten. I saw the sadness and disappointment in her eyes, but she never said anything because that’s the kind of woman she was. I knew she still held out hope that one day I would come home and declare that we could start trying for the family I knew she dreamt about every night.
But fate is a cruel hearted bitch.
I had finally been given the promotion I had worked my ass off for. I bled for the firm and I was finally getting it. I had made partner. On my way home that night I stopped and picked up Em’s favourite flowers and a bottle of wine. That night was the night I was going to tell her that we could start the family she always wanted. Except when I got home, she wasn’t in the kitchen preparing us dinner like she usually was. The lights downstairs were off which was unusual. She wasn’t in the library I had built for her either. I did eventually find her in our bedroom. Curled in a fetal position in the middle of the king-sized bed, mascara stained tears on her cheeks.
“Em? Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?" My eyes quickly scanned her but nothing looked out of the ordinary. She didn’t look hurt.
She never responded to my question; silent sobs continued to rack her body even as I curled around her. My front to her back and pulled her into me, trying to soothe her with reassuring words whispered into her ear.
It wasn’t until hours later that I would come to learn the truth. My wife. My beautiful, intelligent, full-of-life wife had stage four ovarian cancer. I was stunned. There was no way. The doctor had it wrong. It was a mistake. She was thirty-three years old, surely, they were mistaken. They had to be. I could not be losing my wife.
For the next few months, I dragged her to doctor after doctor seeking out different opinions. If one told me that she did indeed have cancer, I went to another and another and another. I forced her to sit through test after test, doctor after doctor telling us what she already had to hear countless times before. I was a bastard. An asshole to the highest standard, but I had refused to accept what was staring me right in the face. That my wife was dying.
Em agreed to chemo but after ending up in the hospital again after the last treatment, her doctor admitted that her body hadn’t responded well to the treatment. I, again, refused to accept that, but Em had turned to me with a small reassuring smile on her face, put her small frail hand on my arm and told me that it was going to be okay.
My wife, who lay dying in that hospital bed, had comforted me when it should’ve been me comforting her.
It’s been just under six months since she died, and I still see her everywhere. In the kitchen when I get home from a long day at the office. Sitting in her favourite chair in the corner of the library that looks out into the backyard. Her coffee mug still sits next to mine beside the coffee maker. The housekeeper still fills the glass vase in the center of the kitchen island with wildflowers; the same ones Em filled them with every Sunday morning after church, because I can’t bring myself to tell her to stop.
Her clothes still hang next to mine in the closet because boxing them up would mean t
hat I would have to face reality. A reality that I don’t… can’t bring myself to face. It would mean that she really is gone. Em spent years getting this house the way she wanted it, and I can’t bring myself to pack it all up. I know I will eventually have to sell it. It’s too much house for one person. But I need to hold on to the feeling of her being close for a little longer. I need to hold on to the scent of her as I step into our closet every morning a little longer.
I need to hold onto her a little longer.
The one other thing I refuse to do is allow another person to share the same bed I shared with Em. The hotel down the street from the firm suits my needs just fine. I pick my conquests up at the bar located across the street and take them back to the room. The hotel staff know enough to always have the room on permanent reservation, meaning it’s always available for me whenever I need it. Not sure why since I never stay the night. If they fall asleep, I’m never here to greet them good morning. If not, I make sure to let them know in no uncertain terms that I will not be seeing them again. I’m not one of those dark, brooding, broken men they think they can fix and put back together. Broken? Yes. But beyond fixable.
After Emily died, I began using sex and alcohol as a way to forget. To numb the pain of losing the only person I’ve ever loved. The only person who ever loved me unconditionally. Sex served two functions; to relieve my most basic urges and to make me forget.
And it had worked until now. Until her. I can feel the tension still coiled tight in my core and none of my usual vices are working.
“Get out,” I murmur, gazing down at the swirling liquid in the glass between my fingers.
The moans coming from the bed instantly stop. A few seconds later I hear the squeak of the mattress as one or both women get up. I breathe a sigh of relief that they hear my near silent demand and leave but I freeze as a small body straddles my thighs.
“Don’t you want to taste her, baby?” The red head drawls. I grip her wrist in my palm, haltering her movements before she can attempt to bring the fingers she just had buried deep in the brunette to my mouth. Any other night, I would’ve eagerly licked the juices from her fingers and bent her over the bed, curled her hair around my fist as she ate the brunette’s pussy while I fucked her from behind. Any other night but tonight.
“Get. Out,” I seethe, not caring that a little whimper passes her lips as my grip tightens for a brief second before I shove her arm away, causing her to stumble back off me and almost fall to the floor.
I’ve never once put my hand on a woman. In fact, I despise any man who puts his hands on a woman, but I don’t recognize the person I am anymore. The red head mutters something about me being an asshole as the other one tries to soothe her, and they gather their clothes. I don’t bother trying to defend myself because she’s right. I am an asshole.
If I hadn’t been so hell bent on having the perfect career first before giving Em the only thing she ever dreamt about, then maybe she would still be here. If I even bothered to take the time and ask her what she wanted or how she wanted to go about seeking treatment for the cancer, then maybe she would’ve fought harder. If I had just been a better husband.
The list goes on and on, but none of it will bring her back to me. I hurl the glass across the room.
“Fuck!” I roar over the sound of glass shattering against the far wall.
I don’t stop to clean it up, knowing the staff will just add it to my bill, and grab my jacket from the back of the couch in the living room of the suite, the door slamming shut behind me as I make my way to the elevator. It’s not just Em occupying every space in my mind. It’s her too. If I could just stop thinking about another woman, one who’s still too innocent, who doesn’t need me tainting her.
I don’t remember how I get home or even if I drove, which I suspect I didn’t because I’m soaked from head to toe. The only thing I remember is it was pouring down rain when I stepped out of the lobby of the hotel and then suddenly I was in our bedroom stripping out of my wet clothes before collapsing on top of the comforter, not bothering to put on a pair of dry pj pants.
I spend hours on my stomach with my head turned to the side, staring out the double sliding doors that lead out to the balcony attached to the master bedroom. Watching the way raindrops fall and run down the glass. I'm still watching the rain when the sun starts rising and when the alarm clock by the bed goes off, reminding me that I have yet another day of defending criminals to endure. My phone rings about an hour later and I suspect it’s one of the other partners of the firm, and my best friend, calling to find out where the fuck I am.
I ignore it. All of it.
Chapter One
SOFIA
7.5 years ago
The sun is blinding when one by one we step out of the hallway, through the door, and into the bright courtyard. The black cap and gown acting like a beacon for the heat. Before the ceremony started, I briefly considered ditching this entire spectacle and going home to change back into my llama sleep shorts and tank top, snuggle up in bed with my pup and watch reruns of Friends, but my cousin was having none of it.
I hear my name being hollered followed by whoops and cheers as I pass by the section designated solely for the family of the those graduating today. Heat creeps across my face when I notice that everyone is here. Literally everyone. I sigh. I should’ve known that Braxton De Luca doesn’t know the meaning of ‘a small group.’
Truth is, I’m glad they’re here. For a long time, I never thought this moment would come. I figured I’d drop out sometime before my senior year just like my mother. Sitting in a classroom day in and day out just wasn’t for me. I hate it. I get bored easily and then my mind starts to wander and before I know it, I’ve missed a significant portion of what the teacher is trying to teach us. Don’t even get me started on exams. Every time I had to sit down for one was torture for me. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t concentrate on the paper in front of me or make sense of the questions or how they wanted it answered. I didn’t have a learning disability or anything, at least none that I know of — I was never tested — but exam anxiety is a real thing. Plus, I learn better by doing. By actually getting in there and doing the work.
So, the fact that I’m sitting here right now, ready to walk across that stage and accept my high school diploma is nothing short of a miracle. Of course, I owe all of this to my cousin and the other men. If Braxton hadn’t taken me in when he did and pushed me to not give up, this day would’ve looked a lot different.
It feels like hours that we sit in the scorching sun listening to speaker after speaker address the new graduating class before the diplomas start being handed out. My stomach is in a tangled mess of knots as the name of the girl in front of me is called, and then I’m stepping up to the makeshift stairs. My knees shake when it’s my turn and I walk across to the middle of the stage, praying that I don’t trip over my feet in these heels. I reach out and take the principal’s hand in a shake, my diploma in the other and remember to turn to the camera and smile before walking the rest of the way across the stage and down the other three steps. This is usually where we’re supposed to go back to our seats and wait until all the graduates have their diplomas and someone gives a final speech but fuck it. Crowds aren’t my thing on a good day. I squeeze through a couple guests who are standing along the edges of the courtyard, not even bothering to check if my family is still watching me. I know they are. I also know they’ll be joining me soon too.
I slip into the closest building and immediately take the cap off and toss it on a nearby table along with my new diploma. I can’t believe I did it. I’m a high school graduate. I’ve just gotten the ties of the gown undone when the door opens behind me, followed by the sound of a lot of footsteps.
“I’m so proud of you, Piglet,” Antonio says, throwing his arm around my shoulders in a hug when I turn to face the crowd.
“Congratulations cousin,” Braxton adds, pulling me into his chest after his best friend has let me go.
&nb
sp; “Thanks, Cuz. Couldn’t have done it without you,” my voice hitches as I take in everyone behind them. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you.”
One by one they each push their way between Braxton and Antonio to congratulate me on my high school graduation. Like I said, everyone is here except the one person I want to see the most.
“He slipped in long enough to see you walk the stage and then he left again.” Antonio leans in to whisper so that no one else can overhear.
“Who?” It’s a stupid question. I know exactly who he’s talking about, but I was hoping I was better at hiding my feelings than this. Of course, it’s Toni and nothing gets passed him. Dammit. We’ve gotten close over the months. He’s become like the big brother I wish I had growing up. The big brother Dante should’ve been.
He just smiles at me. It’s a smile that says he knows exactly what I’m trying to do but it’s not working. Nonetheless, I know he’ll keep my secret.
Chapter Two
MASON