Page 88 of King of Obsession

‘How about your parents?’ he growled.

I huffed. ‘They were lost to the cult too. My mother is a distant cousin of Franco’s and married one of his capos after my dad died. She and her husband lit out for Victoria and haven’t been seen or heard from her in years. Not that I care. ’

Alessio’s eyes darkened with rage. ‘Did they do anything about how you were treated?’

I scoffed. ‘Nope, they fucking encouraged it. They were caught up in the madness, raving lunatics for it.’

‘How did you deal?’

I took a shaky breath. ‘What d’you think? I was so bitter at a world that was cruel and mercilessly unfair. What had happened to me and women like me wasn’t moral, fair, or something to be glossed over. I wasn’t supposed to be angry or reject the control and manipulation. I was meant to play along. Until I didn’t. Instead, I became furious. I still am.’

‘You’ve every right to be,’ Alessio agreed with a chin jerk. ‘How have you stayed here, so close to all that pain, mia sola? Why haven’t you left this place?’

I met his gaze and flicked an eye over his concerned brow, furrowed in genuine indignation and wonder. ‘It’s all I had. It was the only thing I owned because my grandfather entrusted it to me. Don’t get me wrong, I tried living in Sydney but couldn’t handle the noise, stress, and loneliness. When I almost became homeless one year, I returned to the farm. When Granddad died and Nonna went into care, I stayed on.At least here, I could practice my gun skills to protect myself. Still, self-preservation is a full-time job,’ I whispered.

Alessio held both my hands together as silence fell between us.

I met his leonine eyes after a beat. ‘Does my story surprise or shock you?’

‘No. It’s made me fuckin’ angry, cara, wanting to tear the whole valley down, find those Conti brothers and Franco, and slit their throats for you.’

I jolted at his impassioned growl. ‘They’ve got a small army at the farm, one funded by the Caputos.’

He shrugged one shoulder, a curl to his mouth. ‘They don’t know who I am and what I can do.’

I eyed him, taking in the sheer menace on his face.

‘I’m going to end it all for you, mia tesoro.’

I huffed. ‘I’m no one’s treasure; stop calling me that.’

‘You’re my treasure now,’ he rasped, a new possessiveness creeping into his tone. ‘And going through what you’ve endured would anger any human being.

‘Anger’s just the start of it. My experiences have often made me loathe people and even hate every waking moment of my life for how punishing it is.’

His arms reach for me, work around me, and pull me to his hard chest, murmuring words in Italian that I didn’t understand.

I tried pulling back, rejecting the comfort he was offering, hating how it penetrated, incising the pain. I didn’t get anywhere.

He held on.

I gave up fighting him.

I didn’t cry, for my tears had long dried out. Instead, I sunkmy nose in his nape, under his golden beard, and breathed him in.

We stayed that way for a long time.

He knelt on the floor, arms around me; I fell into his chest, head on his tee.

The fire kept crackling as my breath slowed from short, jagged inhales to a steady quietening.

The heat from his torso radiated through me, my limbs soft against his hard, muscled length.

For some strange reason, I chuckled.

He shifted and tipped my head up to him. ‘I’d have liked to see Fabio trussed up like a hog.’

‘He was a sight to see. Mewling like a cat.’

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