Page 163 of Volatile Obsessions

“Meh. I’m over that,” he chortled. “I’m just looking to even the score after he beat me to fucking a pulp over you.”

“I don’t believe you,” I gritted out, but deep down, knowing what Rome was capable of, a part of me did. “When did this supposedly happen?”

“An hour ago, maybe a little more. Motherfucker left me nearly unconscious with a few broken bones and a bullet graze to my side. I’m sitting in the emergency room as we speak.”

I cringed at the visual that unloaded in my mind’s eye. “I want proof,” I demanded, praying harder still.

The timelines added up perfectly.

Our dinner—the one cancelled last minute—was supposed to be at 7…it was now 8:23 and I’d still not heard a word from him.

A minute later, my phone pinged. “Check your texts,” Vic claimed.

Exiting the call screen, I tapped my way into my text messages and clicked on Vic’s name now bolded at the very top.

“Oh my god.” The image he sent was absolutely horrifying.

He was black and blue, dried smatterings of blood clinging to his skin. His entire face was mostly swollen, too, but the worst of it all was around his eyes. It looked like he’d been stung by a swarm of wasps. And the images of his body—I couldn’t even stomach them. They were gnarly.

“Mhmm.” Vic piped up again. “He did the same when he caught Leo and I with Liza.”

At the mention of their names, any hope I had just about shriveled away.

“You and Leo?” I asked, my voice suddenly clogged with emotion.

“Indeed—in the Milani’s office. Wasn’t the first time we’d fucked her, together or otherwise. That little bitch was a twisted, cock-loving whore. Not that Rome knew, of course. He was too busy playing King of the streets with her.”

Vic chuckled at the memory, meanwhile I sat there withholding an ocean of tears in disbelief.

It was true.

As deceitful, backstabbing, and despicable as Vic was, it was all true. There’s no way he’d know about Liza or Leo, or any of that otherwise.

Which meant Roman had been lying to me since day one.

The knot in my stomach tightened all the more, shooting bile up my throat like a bullet. I wanted to wretch all over the place.

How could he do this to me?

“I need to go, Vic,” I croaked.

“Mmm, I’m sure you do.” The bastard sounded so damned pleased. “Off to call to your King, I’m sure?”

Just the sound of that name wounded me all the more, the ache in my chest so piercing, I almost couldn’t breathe.

“I said I need to go,” I gritted out, a lone tear trickling down my face.

I didn’t wait for a response, or a fare well.

I simply ended the call and fell back on my bed as my entire world began crumbling into tiny pieces.

Everything suddenly made sense.

Ev-ery-thing.

How he always knew where to find me.

How he knew how to press my buttons.

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