Page 1 of King of Obsession

Chapter 1

Ten years earlier

ALESSIO

Five tulip glasses stood in a perfect row on the bar.

Beyond the marble buffet, the wedding churned.

Its setting was a grand castle whose ruins were lit with whimsical summer Neapolitan colors, each corner laden with vibrant flowers.

I crossed my hands over my chest with a smirk. Eyes on my eldest brother, Lorenzo, as he measured grappa out with precision into every glass, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration.

Laughter rang out.

I turned my head to tag my cousin Daniela as she danced in the arms of her new groom, Davido.

I served her a chin jerk of approval as she whirled past, faceflushed, hair escaping her crown, happiness radiating from her in waves.

‘Fratelli.’

Coming toward us was Valerio, his ever-acerbic eye canted.

Behind him strode our youngest Vitto, and in his wake was our patriarch, Stephano, the man we all adored.

‘A bene, we’re all here,’ our Don murmured, clasping us in his embrace. ‘ So proud of you, i miei figli, my strong Calibrese warriors.’

Bracing, athletic, handsome, clad in our wedding suits, we savored this rare moment together.

Lorenzo handed each of us a tot of chilled, light golden digestiv.

We stood in a semicircle, locked eyes, and muttered as one. ‘Salute!’

We downed the grappa in a single slug, a ritual we always celebrated whenever we had the chance.

Slamming back our glasses on the bar for more, we leaned in, chatting and catching up.

Until Stephano eased towards me.

‘Papà,’ I rasped as he slid a hand around me.

My hero was a craggy-faced, salt-and-pepper-haired man with aqua-blue eyes that’d ice you one second and flame you the next.

His ever-lovin’ patience with me and gentle guidance over the years had cast him as a god in my eyes.

‘Mio figlio,’ he growled, ducking closer to whisper in my ear. ‘You’re my favorite, sai?’

‘Oh, I know it,’ I huffed in mock disbelief, loving his attention. ‘You tell that to each of us,’ I grated.

He smirked, and then his face fell, turning somber. ‘An oldfriend just called.’

His eyes were shadowed, clouded with worry.

‘Dimmi,’ I grunted.

Leaning in, he murmured for a moment, extracted a faxed image from his breast pocket, and handed it to me.

I studied the features of the two photo IDs depicted.

---