Page 14 of Twisted Obsession

As I turn on the taps, steam quickly fills the small room. Roisin stands there, arms wrapped around herself, looking lost.

"There's soap and shampoo in the cabinet," I say, gesturing. "Take as long as you need. I'll find you some clothes."

She nods mutely, and I step out, closing the door behind me. I lean against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to get my racing thoughts under control. This situation is fucked six ways from Sunday, and I need to figure out our next move.

I hear a soft splash as Roisin lowers herself into the tub, followed by a shaky exhale. Good. Hopefully, the hot water will help soothe her aches and pains.

Except there follows a long, low moan, and my body decides that’s the moment to perk up and take notice for all the wrong reasons. It’s not like I’m immune to her obvious beauty, or theunderlying innocence that makes me want to dirty her up. Or the long, creamy length of her toned legs that peeked through the sheet she was wrapped in as we made our way here. But this is sonotthe time for those kinds of wayward thoughts. What kind of animal am I, thinking of her like that when she’s just been assaulted?

Rubbing my hands over my face like I can rub out the inappropriate thoughts, I drag a hand through my hair and push off from the door, deciding to head to my quarters and find Roisin something to wear. I don’t dare risk being seen near the suite she was being held in. I don’t want anyone tying me to her disappearance from there, so I’ll need Mika to cover me on that account, so Vito believes the order came from his nephew. I’ll find a way to get her things later, but right now there are too many eyes, and too many fucking upstarts wanting to bypass the normal rungs of the hierarchy and make a fast climb up the ranks by getting into the Viper’s good graces.

As I dig through my drawers, I realize nothing I have will fit her properly, since she’s such a dainty little thing, but it'll have to do for now. I grab a couple of T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist. They'll be huge on her, but at least she'll be covered. I pause, considering, then grab a pair of boxers too. No need to make her go commando. And all things considered, I guess she’ll appreciate an added layer of clothing, even if it’s nothing more than a psychological barrier.

As I leave my room, I shoot off a text message to Mika, updating him on the situation. He responds immediately.

I want you to stay with her as much as you can without causing suspicion.

A second message follows immediately.

The last thing we need is a war and things are already precarious enough. I’ll cover for your absence with Vito.

On it

“Ah, there you are, Dominic.” It’s rare anything takes me by surprise, and I curse myself that this situation with Roisin has affected my concentration. Schooling my features, I turn towards Vito, not allowing the satisfaction I feel at the obvious damage Roisin inflicted on him to show on my face. “Going somewhere?” he asks, nodding at the clothing in my hand with far too much suspicion for my liking.

“Just heading to the gym for a workout. Got to stay in shape in this job.”

He narrows his eyes at me, no doubt wondering if that was a dig at his own flabby waistline, but I keep my features blank.

“We had an incident here earlier,” he says, watching me carefully. “I didn’t see you around.”

“Mika called me in to see him about a job,” I tell him, looking him straight in the eye.

“What job?” Vito presses, and I know he’s suspicious, but he won’t get anything from me.

I just shrug. “Don’t have all the details yet, so you’ll have to ask Mika.” Playing dumb is always the best option when it comes to the Viper. “Is there anything else, Sir?”

He shakes his head, and I wave a hand and head off in the direction of the gym. I’ll have to go through with that now, or Idon’t doubt it’ll get back to him. At least I can rest easy knowing it’s nothing personal. Vito is suspicious of everybody and likes to keep tabs on everything that’s going on. I just need to make sure I don’t give him anything to warrant any closer scrutiny.

I make my way to the gym, keeping my pace casual and unhurried. The last thing I need is to draw more attention to myself. Once there, I stuff the clothes into a locker and go through the motions of a workout. All the while, my mind is racing with plans and contingencies.

After thirty minutes of pushing weights and pounding the treadmill, I grab a towel and head back towards the staff quarters I’ve stashed Roisin in, clothes in hand. I take a circuitous route, making sure I'm not being followed. Paranoia is a survival skill in this line of work, even amongst those who are supposed to be teammates and allies.

When I enter her room, Roisin is still in the bathroom. I pause outside the door, listening. The water's no longer running, but I can hear movements inside—maybe a little soft sniffling.

Fuck. I’m not cut out for this, and there’s not exactly anyone else I can ask to help her with the trauma she must be feeling. Briefly, I wonder about approaching Cesca and Safia, but their father Franco is as old school as Vito, and undoubtedly has his daughters under strict surveillance, so I decide I can’t chance it. Besides, the less people who know where Roisin is, the better.

Not wanting to startle her, I knock gently to let her know I’m back. "Roisin? I've got some clothes for you."

There's a moment of silence, then a quiet, "Thank you."

I crack the door open just enough to slide the bundle through, then close it again. "Take your time," I say. "I'll be right out here if you need anything."

I hear a muffled acknowledgment and a small sob. As much as I want to try and comfort her, I know it’ll probably do more harm than good, so I move away from the door, giving her privacy. I’m still the enemy here, after all.

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door creaks open, and I sit up straighter. Roisin pads out, looking small and vulnerable in my oversized clothes. Her hair is damp and tangled, hanging in tight spirals around her face. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and there's a haunted look in them that makes my chest tighten.

"Thank you," she says softly, tugging at the hem of the T-shirt. It hangs almost to her knees. "For everything."

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