The Maddest Obsession (Made Book 2)

by Danielle Lori

  “No.” Urgency filled my voice. “You heard Antonio.”

  Tears filled her eyes, one escaping her bottom lashes. “I have a bad feeling, Gianna . . .”

  “You love him.”

  “Yes,” she cried. “I don’t want to live without him.”

  She took a step toward the door, but I grabbed her wrist. I wouldn’t let her sacrifice herself for love. I couldn’t. Love wasn’t worth it. Love hurt. I tightened my grip when she tried to knock my hand away. But then the lights went out, and darkness descended on us, with reaching, searching, cold fingertips.

  A strangled sound of protest escaped my lips, and I was eight years old again. Don’t you ever shut up, girl? Disgrace. Worthless. Unlovable. Whore.

  My lungs tightened, constricting.

  Her wrist slipped from my grasp and disappeared into the darkness.

  You’re dead to me.

  “No,” I cried, as I dropped to my knees and fought to breathe.

  Sydney got her wish.

  She didn’t have to live without him.

  On my twenty-third birthday, I became a widow of one.

  24 years old

  August 2015

  “CAN YOU FEEL IT? THE beat in your chest?”

  I gave my head a shake, long curls sticking to my tear-streaked cheeks.

  “Here.” Mamma grabbed my hand and pressed it to my chest, over my light pink church dress. “What about now?”

  Something pulsed beneath my palm, small but fast, like the flutter of a frightened bird’s wings. I nodded.

  “It’s music,” she whispered, like she was telling a big secret.

  My eyes filled with awe, but soon, fear crept into the corners of my mind. “But Papà hates music.”

  “Some men, Gianna . . . can’t feel their own music, let alone other’s.”

  Sadness pulled on my chest.

  Mamma’s gaze grew wet, like mine. “Dance to this”—she pressed her hand to my heart—“whenever and however you want.”

  “Whenever I want?”

  “Yes, stellina.” She pressed a kiss to my forehead and my five-year-old heart warmed. “Whenever you want.”

  “I’m scared of the dark.” The whisper invaded the memory, my low, toneless voice sweeping in.

  You’re dead to me.

  You’re dead to me.

  You’re dead to me.

  The words came out with the blackness to swallow me whole.

  I woke with a start, the sheets stuck to my sweaty skin. Catching my breath, I stared at the ceiling of my apartment. The dream swept me back to the night of my twenty-third birthday.

  I sat at the back of an ambulance, the doors open on either side of me. It was hot and humid, though my blood ran cold.

  A sheet covered the body, but it couldn’t conceal the long blond hair hanging off the stretcher as they loaded Sydney into the back of an ambulance.

  Someone stood in front of me, and I brought a blank stare to his. I’d been sitting on Antonio’s cold office floor in the dark when he’d found me. Allister hadn’t said a word as he picked me up, letting me cry silently on his shoulder while he carried me outside. Before he disappeared back inside, he’d taken off his suit jacket and rested it on my shoulders. It smelled like a man’s. Deep, and rough, and masculine. I tried to drown myself in the scent instead of the numbness.

  “Do you want to go home?” he asked.

  Home?

  It had always been Antonio’s house more than it had ever been mine. After the Sydney fiasco, I stayed at one of his apartments when I could, just to escape his attentions when he was home. I wondered if Sydney had known Antonio was never faithful to her, that he’d tried to seduce me while claiming to love her. She’d died for him, for love. The word left a sour aftertaste in my mouth.

  The idea of going home suddenly sounded abhorrent.

  I shook my head.

  “Where?”

  “Ace’s,” I whispered.

  A muscle in his jaw tightened, and something bitter passed through his eyes. “Ace won’t be there for a while.”

  An ambulance had taken him to the hospital despite his protests. He’d been losing a lot of blood from the two bullet wounds he’d received, one in the side and one in the arm. He’d taken those bullets for me, and I was going to nurse him back to health, whether he liked it or not.

  “I know,” I said.

  Allister ran his tongue across his teeth as though agitated, but he moved to speak with one of the dozens of agents nearby.

  I followed him to his car. I realized it was the first time I’d ever seen him without a suit jacket. His white long-sleeve shirt molded his broad shoulders and arms. I’d never noticed just how built the man was until now. Maybe I was losing my mind, but I studied his form the entire walk to the car as I trailed behind him, barefoot.

  He drove me to Nico’s home in the Bronx in silence and then followed me to the back door. I knew the code to Ace’s alarm system—not because he trusted me with it, but because I’d secretly watched him type it in once.

  Allister stepped inside behind me and shut the door.

  “You don’t have to stay,” I told him. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re in shock,” was his response.

  He looked around the place, his shoulders tense. He didn’t want to leave me here. I thought he even hated the idea. The question was, why?

  “Why are you here?” I asked, draping his jacket over an island chair. “Feeling sorry for me?”

  “No.” The word was hard, and the glint in his eye conveyed that he did not feel sorry in any way.

  God, he was heartless.

  “I’m fine,” I insisted.

  “Don’t lie to me again, Gianna.”

  I was too numb to be annoyed by his lord-and-master tone. In fact, it felt like I was hanging by a thread high in the sky, though I was too indifferent to care if it snapped.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “No.”

  I headed up the stairs, dropping my blood-stained dress at the top, and took a shower. When I went downstairs twenty minutes later, with wet hair and dressed in only one of Ace’s white t-shirts, Allister was still there, leaning against the counter and talking on the phone. His consuming gaze found me, drifting down my body with a mixture of warmth and agitation.

  A tremor started beneath my skin, buzzing stronger like an approaching bee that would surely sting.

  “Come here,” he said after he hung up.

  When I reached him, he handed me a white pill and a glass of water.

  “Take it.”

  I didn’t even ask what it was; I took it with a sip of water and went to set my glass on the counter.

  “All of it, Gianna.”

  My eyes narrowed at the edges, but I drank the rest as I was told.

  “There’s more in the cupboard for the next few days.” His voice caught a harsh note. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  He thought I would try to OD on them. I’d experienced far worse than tonight and had never even contemplated suicide. I didn’t care enough to try and convince him, though.

  As I walked past, he caught me by my t-shirt. I looked up at him. I didn’t know why he was here, why he was helping me. Nonetheless, I was suddenly grateful. I didn’t want to be alone.

  The touch of his eyes ran over my face like a caress. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but his closeness, the heat from his body, it was penetrating the numbness and warming me from the inside out. My gaze softened, lips parted, as flames licked at my skin.

  His grip tightened on my shirt, and I stumbled a step closer. He was too close, and I had to place a hand on his stomach to catch myself from falling flush against him. His abs tightened beneath my palm, but his expression remained unmoved.

  “Regardless of what you might believe, Gianna, I’m a grown man. Dress appropriately in front of me next time.”

  His words broke me from the warm spell I’d been under. He wanted me to respond, to say something
so he knew I hadn’t fallen off the deep end—the sharp sound of his voice had practically demanded it. It was fake concern, I was sure.

  Pushing away from him, I headed to the living room. I lay down and flipped the TV on to a soap opera rerun. I watched it mindlessly while listening to his deep timbre in the background as he talked on the phone.

  I fell asleep at some point. And dreamed of a light touch on my face and two rough words in my ear.

  After taking a trip down memory lane, I lay in bed until noon. The silence that filled my apartment was so loud it hurt my ears. I liked my freedom, but I hated living alone. I hated being alone. It reminded me of my papà. Of the slam of a door and the lights going out.

  Vincent pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered in my ear.

  I laughed, trying hard to keep an uncomfortable edge from escaping. “You obviously haven’t seen a sunset in the Caribbean.”

  “I have, and trust me, it doesn’t compare. Shall I escort you in?”

  I nodded.

  Vincent placed a hand at the small of my back and guided me into the club.

  It was the grand reopening, after the shooting last year. There hadn’t been much damage, and only six casualties—Antonio, his brother, Sydney, John, and two Zanettis. However, Nico had focused his time on revenge and not on opening his club to the public until now.

  Vincent’s hand gripped low on my hip, in a possessive hold. I didn’t realize he’d be here tonight, but it seemed wherever I was lately, so was he. I didn’t want to have to turn him down, though I knew it was going to have to happen soon. He was kind-hearted, gentle, and handsome—exactly my type—but I wasn’t the woman for him. I wasn’t the woman for any man.

  I didn’t need love in my life.

  But I did miss sex.

  So desperately that his warm breath in my ear sent a spark between my legs. It’d been six months since I’d pressed my mouth to another’s, felt the heaviness of a man’s body covering mine, lost myself in touch and feeling. The last time had been with a male stripper I’d met at a cantina in Cancún. It’d only taken the brush of his thumb at the hollow behind my ear until I gave in. It didn’t make me feel good emotionally, but physically, it was everything I needed. Hot and sweaty and desperate. I needed human touch like I needed air, and now, I was riding on a thin amount of oxygen.

  Vincent led me to a group of our friends at a round booth in a private corner. We joined them with hellos and kisses on the cheeks.

  I paused at the man leaning against the booth. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

  Sharp features and blue eyes met mine. “I’d say the pleasure is all mine.”

  How charming.

  The stranger was a few inches taller than me, wearing a charcoal designer suit and tie. He looked like a gentleman, talked like a gentleman . . . but there was something about him I couldn’t put my finger on. Vincent’s possessive squeeze on my hip annoyed me.

  “I’m going to fetch a drink.” I pulled away from Vincent’s grasp before he could protest and offer to get me one himself. He would. I thought he might bring me back the moon if I asked for it. He knew who my ex-husband was, the life I was raised in, but, like a true gentleman, he’d never brought it up. If he thought he could survive in my world, he was mistaken. It would chew him up and spit him out before he could even say hello.

  I stopped at the bar, realizing Charming had followed me.

  “What’s your name?”

  I tilted my head, meeting his gaze in the glass behind the bar. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “I would.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’d like to know the name of the woman I’m fucking tonight.”

  The corners of my lips tipped up. I loved straightforward people, however . . . something about Charming rubbed me the wrong way.

  “Awfully confident,” I mused, grabbing my drink from the bartender.

  My gaze was pulled to the side by some invisible force. I should have known it was him. It was always him. Allister was headed to a table where two other men in black suits stood together, talking. But, as though he’d felt my presence just as I had his, he glanced over and caught my gaze.

  I realized what was wrong with Charming. His blue eyes were dull and cloudy.

  Not piercing and deep enough to drown in.

  Lovely. I’d let the disgustingly handsome fed ruin an entire eye color for me.

  Allister’s attention moved to the man beside me. His gaze narrowed and flickered with loathing before he looked away.

  My heart rate slowed at his strange reaction, but I quickly pushed the feeling down. I didn’t like to think about the fed. Every time I did, an edginess came over me, leaving a hollow and uncertain sensation in my chest.

  I’d seen him a few times since he’d taken me to Ace’s last year. Our relationship had picked up on the same note it’d always been on. However, it was as if he had never taken care of me that night. He was different, radiating a tension that touched my skin each time I stood by him. His responses were dryer, his tone harsher, and he’d often walk off and leave me standing alone, like my mere presence agitated him. It annoyed me.

  “So . . . you gonna tell me your name?”

  “Guess,” I finally said to Charming, turning my attention to him.

  “Hmm.” His gaze lit with the challenge. “It’s elegant and beautiful, just like you.”

  I rolled my eyes at his flattery, but I made him guess for another ten minutes until I finished my drink and needed to use the restroom.

  Just as I was about to pass the men’s room, the door opened, and I came face-to-face with Allister. Oddly, my heart stalled, stealing some oxygen from my lungs.

  “Hello, Officer.”

  He didn’t say a word as his gaze bit through my skin.

  “Okay then,” I said. “You have a lovely night.”

  I tried to pass him, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. It’d been a long time since we’d played any game, and anticipation buzzed in my veins.

  “What are you doing with Knox?” His voice was low and smooth, and I could feel it in my toes.

  I frowned. “Who’s Knox?”

  “The man you’ve been flirting with for the last fifteen minutes,” he snapped.

  “Well, you’ve just answered your own question, haven’t you, Officer? Flirting.”

  My smile faltered as he took a sudden step forward, forcing my back to hit the wall. A breath of air escaped me. His arms came up on either side of me, caging me in. He was so close my entire body hummed beneath the surface.

  “I’m sure the Bureau doesn’t approve of this kind of behavior,” I breathed.

  He was distracted, his gaze beside my head, where a lock of my hair brushed his hand. He pulled it through his fingers, and the small amount of pressure on my scalp tightened between my legs.

  The air sparked in the small space between us, and it made me so uncertain I opened my mouth again. “Or maybe harassing women is on the daily agenda—”

  “Shut up.”

  I glared at him.

  My hair slipped through his fingers, and his gaze focused on my face. Something dark and lazy played in his eyes.

  “You’re going to tell Knox it was not nice to meet him and then go join your group of friends.”

  I laughed, realizing which game this was. It was the one where he pretended to be my keeper, and it was the most annoying one we’d ever played. “Tempting as that demand is, I’m going to have to pass.”

  The intensity in his eyes was like staring directly into the sun, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I dropped my gaze to his tie. It was perfect, like always, and while I would usually adjust it anyway, I didn’t reach for it now. His presence radiated tension, and it sent a nervous tremor through me.

  “You don’t know a single thing about him, Gianna.”

  “You don’t need to know anything about someone to sleep
with them.” I wasn’t even planning on having sex with the man with dull eyes, but Allister goaded the words straight from my mouth.

  A small growl sounded low in his throat, and I stared at him, frozen. Someone was taking this game a little too seriously.

  His palm slid from the wall, and his voice was calm and final. “You’re not going home with him.”

  I stared at his hand running the length of his tie and knew my libido was completely out of control at the moment, because I imagined his hand on me—in my hair, on my throat, covering my mouth. Heat pulsed between my legs.

  “I’ll leave with him if I want,” I finally managed.

  “Try it.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “I just did.”

  This was exactly why I hated this game. A small noise of frustration escaped me, and I ducked underneath his arm and headed toward the ladies’ room.

  “You heard me, Gianna.”

  I’d heard him, all right.

  Didn’t mean I’d listen.

  I had always tried not to do things out of spite, because every time, it only led me down a rabbit hole of regret. However, the moments after Allister’s stupid game pushed me straight into the underworld’s own version of Wonderland.

  I washed my hands after using the restroom, and then halted at the end of the hall.

  A bad taste filled my mouth.

  The lighting was dim, but, as though they were the most perfect couple in the room, strobe lights danced across their forms.

  A brunette had a hand on Allister’s chest as she stood on her tiptoes to say something in his ear. It wasn’t an odd scene—women were always all over him—but it was rare when he acknowledged them, unless they were one of his socialite dates. The sight that sent an odd sensation tightening in my stomach was his hand coming up to rest on her hip, in the most natural way, like he’d done it before.

  He was touching her.

  Why wouldn’t he? She was classy, composed, everything I was not. He wouldn’t touch me, not if he were hanging off a cliff and I was the only one who could pull him up.

  I couldn’t keep it in—spite grabbed me in its electric embrace and wouldn’t let go.