Page 39 of Enforcer's Obsession

Wondering how she hadn’t seen the danger, hadn’t heeded the warnings.

I was convinced that she had seen them and had chosen to overlook them.

So I couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow myself to make the mistake that she had and end up in the position she’d found herself in, or in one even worse.

No, that wouldn’t happen.

My life might be meaningless, but I wouldn’t let scum like my stepfather—a man like Nico—take it for me.

“What’s that look about?” Nico said, his voice breaking through my dark thoughts.

His voice was a grumble that sent a shiver through me, one that made me hate myself even more, something I hadn’t thought possible.

“Where’s my friend?” I asked, trying to remind myself of what was at stake here.

I had asked before but hadn’t gotten a satisfactory answer.

“I told you she’s been taken care of,” he said.

“Is she dead?” I asked, only realizing how loud and hysterical I sounded. I took a deep breath to calm myself and then repeated, “Is she dead?”

My voice trembled, because I could hardly contemplate it.

Losing the only friend I had in the world.

I couldn’t even?—

“She’s not dead,” Nico said, cutting off the thoughts that were rushing at me like a tsunami.

“I’m supposed to take your word for it?” I responded, feeling incapable of stopping myself from pushing.

“Do you have a choice?” Nico asked, one dark brow lifted in question.

I snapped my mouth closed, knowing there was nothing else to say.

He had me. I knew that; he knew that.

“But she’s fine. I saw that she was taken care of, so you don’t have to worry about her,” he said.

What about me?I wanted to ask.

But at the same time, I was terrified of the answer, so I didn’t verbalize the question.

What about me?

I knew what I had seen, knew what men like Nico could do.

That it hadn’t happened yet had me confused, on edge, which was saying something, given the circumstances.

I glanced at him, my breath seizing as I met his eyes.

They were beautiful, something else I hated myself for noticing.

But I forced myself to stare at him, feel the connection, the attraction, the disgust at myself that both had created.

I knew nothing about men, but instinct told me that attraction was mutual, and if I was smart, I would use it to my advantage.

What would that look like?

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