Page 28 of Obsession

“Isn’t he in jail?” I ask, even though I know the answer. Sam Costello was arrested for murdering his father, a bold lie that most can see for what it is. A setup to get both Junior and Sam out of the game. With Junior alive, Damien would never be allowed to run this family, and with Junior dead, Sam is the rightful heir. So he took them out in one fell swoop. His original plan was to let Marcus run the family, and he’d stand by as a trusted advisor, one who pulled all the strings. But now, with Marcus gone, everything falls to Damien.

It’s a modern-day, mafia-themedGame of Thrones.

“Yeah, they’re holding him in Orleans Parish Prison until his court date.”

“And the evidence? Is it enough to convict?”

“It is.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“My other nephew, John, has always been loyal to Sam. They grew up together.” I know from Marcus that Sam and John are also the reason Damien’s daughter Lana is in New York City instead of married to a congressman that Damien had arranged. “We had a detective on the inside that was helping. He’snot usefulnow.”

“You think-”

“I know,” Damien sighs. “John turned him, so I had to take care of him.”

Take care of himis a fancy way of saying the guy is dead now. I sigh. I don’t love hearing about how my new family murders cops on a whim.

“And you don’t have another man on the inside?

“No.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

Damien takes a long drag of his cigar. “I want you to make sure my nephew never gets out of prison.”

“And how should I do that?”

“By whatever means necessary.”

SIXTEEN

Madi

I’ve been ignoring Adrian.

It’s for the best. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I pretend to be asleep during his morning routine. Over our first week of marriage, I learned he’s an early riser. 6:00 a.m. every day, the alarm rings, and he rolls from the bed and puts on his workout clothes. He spends sixty minutes downstairs, doing jumping jacks and squats and God knows what else before he comes back up with sweat dripping from his body. He takes a shower, puts on a fresh suit, and he’s out the door by 7:30. And every morning, I’m amazed by the structure of his routine.

I’m still faking sleep when I sense him move to my side of the bed. I can feel his energy as he hovers over me, and I wonder if he’s going to kiss me, do something sweet before he leaves — isn’t that what normal couples do? He lingers for a long moment before he finally pulls back, and I hear his shoes tap against the hardwoods as he leaves.

Once the door shuts, I open my eyes, sucking in a long breath. I’m not afraid of my new husband; I just don’t want to talk to him. Talking to Adrian always ends up with his body tooclose to mine, his scent invading my senses, his touch bringing goosebumps to my skin.

It’s confusing. Annoying.Frustrating.

The more space there is between us, the easier it is for me to keep my thoughts straight.

I hate him. Something I know with every fiber of my being. But when he’s near me…I’m left in a whirlwind of confusion. He’s an asshole, that much is obvious. But ever since he made me come and spanked me with the newspaper, something has shifted. Something I don’t want to think about.

Once he’s gone, I pull myself from the oversized bed and trudge downstairs for coffee. I can’t deny how nice Adrian’s home is. While I know there’s no way he decorated it himself, it still seems to have a touch of masculinity that matches his energy, paired with the traditional style that goes with the French architecture.

“Good morning, Mrs. Russo.”

“Please stop calling me that,” I tell Bea, Adrian’s housekeeper.

Bea blushes. “I’m sorry, Mrs.- I mean Madi.”

I try to give her my warmest, pre-coffee smile. “It’s fine, Bea.”

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