Page 2 of My Ruthless Obsession

“Back to business,” I mutter as I make my way through my underground casino, the sounds of gambling and hushed conversations filling the space. I slip back into the cultivated persona I display around others, wearing my mask of indifference as I navigate this perilous world of crooks and thieves with practiced precision.

“Mr. Vanetti, everything alright?” one of my men asks, concern flickering across his face as he takes in my tense expression.

“Fine,” I snap, my voice hinting at the chaos inside me. “Just handle things here. I have somewhere I need to be.”

He replies with a curt nod before disappearing into the crowd, leaving me to my thoughts.

I push open the steel doors leading up to the street level, the noise of the city engulfing me as I step out into the night. The die is cast, and there’s no turning back now. All that remains is to claim my prize… whether she’s willing to accept it or not.

2

LYLA

Iopen a can of mixed vegetables and pour them into the steaming broth, my stomach roiling at the thought of eating them. This is all I have—thanks to the deadbeat I call a father who constantly steals my paychecks from me.

As I add more ingredients to the pot, my mind wanders to the envelope of cash on the table. It’s the rent money that I’ve fought to save, managing to keep it hidden before he could gamble it all away. He’s been a constant disappointment since my mom died when I was young, turning to alcohol as a coping mechanism and leaving me to pick up the drunken pieces.

I hear his heavy footsteps approaching our apartment door, and I realize it’s time for me to leave this toxic situation. I can’t take it anymore. The sense of loyalty and familial obligation has long disappeared. Dread settles over me when he steps inside, but I emerge from the small kitchen, ready to get this conversation over with.

Only, my father isn’t here. Just two menacing strangers the size of small mountains, taking up most of the space in our tiny living room. My blood runs cold as they stare at me, their dark gazes drifting over my body from head to toe. A primal instinct warns me they’re dangerous predators in human form and I’m their prey.

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice shaking with fear.

The tall man on the left steps closer and I recognize him right away. I’ve seen him twice before, when I’ve had to drag my father out of some illegal gambling hall. He peers at me with cold eyes.

Marco Vanetti is in my home.

Without warning, desire surges through me at the sight of his piercing gaze taking in my curvy figure. I try to push away the attraction, knowing this is not the time or place for it. Yet something about him draws me in, even though he’s involved in various criminal activities.

“What do you want with me?” I squeak, feeling both scared and aroused by his presence. My hands begin to tremble, and I clench them into fists at my sides.

His eyes flash with heat and my body responds against my will—against my better judgement as well, considering this man is a known killer.

He drags the tip of his tongue across his teeth. “I’ve come to collect a debt.” He takes another step forward with a hungry expression on his handsome face, and I assume he’s not talking about money.

“My father isn’t here,” I blurt out, backing up until I hit the wall.

“I know where he is, Lyla.” Marco smirks. “I’ve come here foryou.”

Beads of sweat begin to roll down my spine. “Me? I… I don’t understand.”

Marco tilts his head while his gaze roams over my body again. I know what he’s thinking. It’s the same thing men like him always think, and he’s not getting that from me. I don’t care how sexy he is.

The other man remains quiet by the door while Marco does all the talking. “Henry has racked up quite a large debt, Princess. One he can’t afford to pay.”

Of course he has.Why would I expect anything less from my father?

I snatch the envelope of money off the table and extend it to Marco, my pulse racing with a mix of terror and attraction. “Here. Take this. It’s nine hundred dollars.”

Marco barks out a laugh while his friend chuckles quietly behind him, their dark eyes glittering with amusement. He studies the cash in my hand, and I feel a flush of embarrassment when he doesn’t reach for it.

“You’re about ninety-nine grand off the mark, sweetheart,” he tells me as he regains his composure.

Did he say ninety-nine grand? As in dollars?

“I… I can give you more next week when I get paid. A couple hundred on Friday,” I offer, knowing it will leave me with nothing. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to save mine and my father’s asses. But my words fall on deaf ears.

“Keep your money, Princess,” Marco says, using the condescending nickname that infuriates and excites me. There’s something alluring about this formidable man with his imposing stature.

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