Page 106 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

“Not fair,” Matteo grumbles.

Ren laughs. “You sound like Domino.”

“Fuck off,” Matteo mutters.

“Where’s that smooth collectiveness?”

“Up your ass if you keep pushing me.”

“Maybe I like to be pushed,” Ren suggests. “Could ask Marcus though. Bet you he bends, too.”

“Ugh I know he does,” Matteo mutters.

“You two get along so easily it’s sickening to watch,” Zander points out on the speakerphone. “Get here faster, Eva so I don’t need to suffer watching them do naughty things.”

I just laugh, feeling as though this feels like the most normal instance they’ve had being Ruthless Kings of Obsession.

For now, I’ll count my blessings.

The Calm Before Chaos?

~GEMINI~

Sunlight streams through towering windows, painting golden paths across marble floors that cost more than most people's yearly salaries. I pause in the grand foyer of our new mansion, letting my fingers trail along a perfectly polished banister. The irony of our current residence isn't lost on me – we quite literally burned our last home to ash, yet here we stand in an even more impressive dwelling, one typically reserved for Leighton University's most distinguished alumni.

But then again, nothing about us has ever been typical.

"Did you seduce the realtor?" I'd asked Matteo when he first showed us the property, earning that dangerous smirk that always makes my heart race.

"Something like that," he'd replied, though the gleam in his eyes suggested methods far more creative than mere seduction.

Now, walking these halls alone, I can't help but marvel at how perfectly the space has been tailored to each of my Kings' evolving interests. Every renovation, every modification speaksto the men they're becoming rather than just the roles they once played.

Zander's domain draws me first – a technological wonderland that would make most Silicon Valley startups weep with envy. Multiple screens line the walls, some displaying scrolling code while others show what I pretend not to notice are surveillance feeds of various campus locations. His "observation hobby" hasn't diminished, but it's evolved into something more purposeful, more focused.

"Sweet Dynamite," he'd murmured against my neck the first time he showed me his setup, "wait until you see what I can do with these systems."

The space flows seamlessly into a gaming room that puts professional esports arenas to shame. Every latest console, VR setup, and gaming rig imaginable fills the carefully designed space. I smile, remembering how his eyes lit up explaining the technical specifications – terms like "overclocked processors" and "custom water cooling" that meant nothing to me but everything to him.

Who would have guessed my dangerous King would find such joy in coding and virtual worlds?

The fashion wing – as I've taken to calling it – is pure Ares. The photography studio rivals professional setups, with lighting rigs that cost more than cars and a small runway that's hosted impromptu midnight shows. Watching him work here is like witnessing art come to life. He commands attention without effort, his natural grace making even practice sessions look magazine-worthy.

"Your turn," he'd said last week, trying to coax me onto the runway. "Let me photograph you in that new Versace piece."

I'd refused, of course, but the way his eyes had darkened suggested the conversation wasn't over. My Kings can be terribly persistent when they want something.

The underground garage might be our most ambitious renovation. What started as standard parking has been transformed into a car enthusiast's paradise. The upper level houses our daily vehicles – a collection impressive enough on its own. But below...

I descend the spiral ramp, my heels clicking against polished concrete as I enter Ren's domain. His growing collection of motorcycles gleams under custom lighting, each bike meticulously restored or modified to his exacting standards. I'm still learning new things about him – like his encyclopedic knowledge of vintage engines and his preference for working with his hands.

"Want to learn how to ride?" he'd offered yesterday, his signature playboy smirk firmly in place. "I'm an excellent teacher."

The memory makes heat flood my cheeks. Because with Ren, everything carries double meaning, every offer weighted with possibility. I'm discovering he has depths I never fully appreciated during our wild days together – skills and interests that make him far more than just the charming facade he presents to the world.

Marcus's section of the mansion tells its own story of evolution. Hockey memorabilia lines the hallway leading to his personal lab – a space that rivals professional research facilities. The lab has taken on new urgency since learning about Scarlett's condition. My heart clenches remembering the diagnosis, but knowing Marcus has both the resources and motivation to investigate offers a thread of hope.

"I'll figure out what they used," he'd promised, his usually clinical demeanor cracking to reveal real anger. "And then we'll make them pay for playing god with people's lives."

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