Page 154 of King of Obsession

The helo banked and faded away into the heavens while the convoy revved and roared out of the property.

‘Good riddance,’ I growled, the tension leaching from my frame.

Cleo’s hand was on my back, sliding around my waist. Her touch grounded me, bringing me back to the present.

‘You OK, baby?’ she murmured, her voice soft in my ear.

I turned, drawing her closer to me. ‘I am,’ I said, pressing my lips to her forehead. ‘You?’

‘Always fine when I’m next to you,’ she breathed, melting into my embrace. ‘But you’ll need to explain what the fuck just happened there.’

‘In good time, mia sola, in good time.’

We stayed that way long, watching the sun push through the storm clouds.

Morning’s full brilliance began to streak across the canopy, chasing the shadows of the tempest, and the skies painted in the aftermath shades of gold and pink.

CLEO

‘Fratello, won’t you introduce us to your lady? The reason for all this excitement.’

Alessio’s face dissolved into a soft smile as we turned arm in arm.

‘This is my woman, Cleo,’ Alessio growled, stepping toward his gun-toting, frankly badass entourage.

He slipped a hand around my waist, tugging me to his side, owning me, claiming me.

‘I never thought I’d see the day.’

The speaker was a man in his mid-to-late thirties who carried significant gravitas. Sinewy and commanding, he towered tall and imposing, with broad upper arms and a lean, muscular frame.

But his face, a craggy-hewn sculpture of rugged masculinity and dangerous allure, caught my eye because it resembled Alessio while paying homage to the iconic figures of Italian cinema.

Dark, slicked-back hair set off piercing inky blue eyes with an alluring and threatening intensity.

He wore a stylish sweatshirt, no less, under an expensiveleather jacket that hugged his muscled, sinewed body, exuding confidence and power.

Thick thighs were encased in black jeans, and his feet were in patent upper sneakers with couturier detail.

‘Never say never,’ came the amused drawl from a second man.

This time, he was a bulwark of flesh and muscle.

Face hard, gaze harder, and his cold, dark, honeyed features inherited from his Moorish ancestors.

He had the stride of a wolf and the menace of a warrior, and I felt a shiver go down my spine.

‘Cara, meet Lorenzo,’ he growled, pointing at the designer-clad man. ‘My older brother and boss of the Calibrese family.’

‘Hi,’ I told the man, nonplussed as his eyes raked over me, focusing on how close Alessio was holding onto me.

‘The second mofo is our consigliere, Mauri,’ he rasped, raising his chin to the honey-skinned man. ‘The rest of the crew are our freakish capos. Mattia, Leonardo, Andrea, Francesco and Tommaso.’

I nodded to the group of men. ‘Lovely to meet you. I can’t thank you enough for being here.’

Lorenzo stepped forward and tugged me away from his protesting brother.

I slow-blinked at him, surprised as he enveloped me in a tight hug, my face in his leather jacket.

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