Page 22 of Volatile Obsessions

She seemed to have what I wanted and I was damn sure going to have it.

The guys continued milling about, pulling me out from my daze as they ambled around me, transferring brick after brick of weed and cocaine out to the truck we’d arrived in. Some appeared as though they could be ecstasy or molly, too, but I wouldn’t know until we made it back to Vic’s factory, now better known as Noir CoastDistillery.

In any case, the sight of it all pleased me. There was plenty of money to be made here, and I mean plenty. An obscene amount, one Vic couldn’t hide or deny, and I was already imagining all the ways I could blow my cut as I started up the stairs for Lux’s office.

Unlike the distillery, Lux had taken care of furnishing every last nook and cranny of the building. The floors up here were a glittering white tile, a stark polar opposite from the ebony damask wallpaper on the walls that made up what appeared to be a small lobby overlooking the main floor. They curved inward slightly, leading you right to a dark Victorian desk that sat askew to a tall set of raven doors. Not one paper, folder, pen, or paper clip was out of place, everything neatly tucked in its place.

I assumed it was Vic’s desk based on the anal vibe I got just looking at it, and I almost trashed it for shits and giggles—because why the hell not—but why waste my energy on something so trivial when the Queen’s chamber was mere feet away?

After all, that’s what I was here for, right? To help him purge Miami of the little bitch?

Actually, no, allow me to rephrase that—to help him purge himself of the little bitch.

He wasn’t fooling anyone. Our evening with Ramos last week ensured it, and I didn’t even have to coax it out of him. He did it all on his own. Tried to play it off afterward as though it were a simple lapse of judgement given the moment. As always, I kept my mouth shut, nodding in agreement at all the appropriate times. Better he think I didn’t have a damn clue. Gave me the upper hand while I ran my own little experiment on his deceitful ass. I was interested to see how long he’d drag this facade out, how long he’d lie right to my face.

Each time I thought on it, it made me angrier, more skeptical of his word, too. And yet, I had no right to be. I’d brought this on myself when I jumped at the chance to leave New York. I hadn’t much of a choice really. The past was creeping up on me quickly, leaving me little to no time to conjure a proper game plan, so I took off a second time.

Unfortunately for me, that’s how it would be for the rest of my life.

Always running, watching my back.

The lone wolf.

Fucked up part is I’d do it all over again if I had to. I regretted very few things in my life, and what I left in London was most certainly not one of them. Helping Vic on the other hand…that might make the list if we continued on this route, and should that end up happening, there would be no ‘apology accepted’ this time.

He’d be dead to me. End of story.

Right now wasn’t the time to dwell on Vic and his hidden motives, though.

I had a Queen to dishevel, and I planned to dishevel her well.

This is going to be fun.

Curling my hands around the finely curved steel knobs, I burst in through the double doors of Lux’s dark office like a bull out the gate, only to stop short almost immediately thereafter. The distinct, sweet scent of sandalwood and roses rushed me in a flurry, firmly rooting my Converse-clad feet to tiled floor. I inhaled another deep breath, then another and another after that.

If this is what Lux smelled like, it’s no wonder Vic had a perpetual hard-on for her. The scent was mouthwatering. No really, I was salivating at the mouth like a fucking dog. Somehow, it matched her alluring voice, too, leaving me to wonder if what she looked like would match as well.

Was she blonde?

Brunette?

Slim?

Curvy?

Tall?

Fun sized?

Vic wouldn’t tell me.

“You’ll just know,” was all he’d offered when he’d briefed me on the woman.

I had an idea drawn up in my head based on his type and what I’d heard, but something about his resistance to talk about her led me to believe maybe she wasn’t his type after all. Needless to say, I was thoroughly intrigued and equally anxious to finally catch a glimpse of her.

And if my plans worked out the way I hoped, she’d be banging down my door soon.

Very, very, soon.

My lips curled in an appeased smirk as I stalked over to her desk and dropped down in her plush leather throne. Everything was clean and pristine. Dragging a finger along the edge of her desk, I glazed over the minimal items on display. Judging by the decor out in the lobby and from what I could see here in the darkness, it was obvious Lux fancied a classic, gothic style. I’ll admit, she had good taste, but perhaps that’s because I gravitated towards gothic decor as well. Although mine was a bit more modern goth with hints of rustic thrown in the mix.

Who are you, Lux Mercier?

The question replayed in a loop as I spun around in her chair, glancing around the shrouded office. Ironically enough, she’d be asking the same question about me in just a few hours. The note I was leaving on her desk ensured it…

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