Page 35 of Shadows of Obsession

I watch the sparkle in her eyes. Hell, I'd buy every book ever written just to keep that hope alive in her face.

“Well, maybe not enemies, but we could negotiate. Heard Luca's got a son coming of age soon,” I tease.

Her glare could melt steel. Those light blue eyes, almost gray like mine, burn at the mention of Federico, the Italian mob boss's son. They've run in the same circles despite the five-year age gap, but somehow there's always been bad blood. Even though we're playing nice with the Italians.For now.

“Don't even joke about that, Ro. I swear I'll stab him with my nail scissors.”

I leave laughing because I can actually imagine her doing that, and I realize I'm worrying about Victoria for nothing. It's clear that the poor man who becomes her husband will wonder what sins he committed to be punished by heaven with such a tornado of madness in bear pajamas.

"Don't stay up too late, Vi."

She nods and returns to her book, and I go to bed. A few hours of peace where nothing explodes, nobody needs me, and most importantly, a few hours of green eyes and hair like the finest caramel to haunt my thoughts.

Chapter 17

?

Luna

Next morning, instead of typing up my resignation, I'm heading to the train, audiobook playing through my headphones - the same one I've been trying to finish all week.

For courage, I've sprayed on Tom Ford Café Rose - my power perfume. Something about it makes me feel invincible, at least in my head. Somewhere along the way, I abandoned the plan to disappear for a month hoping my boss would forget I exist.

The thought of moving, of running again, just drains me. And though I know my danger signals better than anyone, Roman's never made me feel physically unsafe.

Emotionally though?Maybe it'd be easier if he didn't look at me like he wanted to take away all my worries. But my scattered brain can't seem to understand that I don't need another complication - and that's exactly what Roman is. A problem for both my mind and heart.

The train packed, and I'm basically playing human Tetris to fit in. Running late means I can't wait for the next train, so I squeeze myself between this sixty-something guy reading his paper one-handed while gripping the pole and a teenage girl tapping her foot to the latest Taylor Swift. It's like both sides of my personality decided to meet up for drinks - the thought makes me bite back a smile.

When I reach the building, I don't bother with coffee because I'm again running to arrive somewhat on time, and I applaud myself for deciding to wear my UGGs today. Yes, I know, they're ugly. You can judge my fashion sense all you want, but these things were made by angels for my feet.

Period.

When I reach the twenty-second floor, Felix analyzes my outfit and raises an eyebrow.

"I can forgive that mustard yellow blouse and jeans, but what the hell do you have on your feet? Did you attack a group of subway rats and decide to make an offering of their fur?" And it's precisely his horrified tone that makes me laugh.

With all my teeth and all my soul.

"Don't be dramatic. Your feet would be in heaven if you wore something like this," I tell him while slightly extending my foot forward so he can see my footwear better.

"I prefer to roll in hell's feathers, thank you." And with that he hands me a coffee and signals me to go in.

I'm left open-mouthed at his gesture and only manage to whisper, "You're an angel."

I take a sip, and it's exactly how I drink my coffee. Lots of milk, some sugar, and the two shots of espresso that wake up my brain.

"Don’t I know it."

He's already busy typing at this computer, so I avoid asking how the hell he knows how I take my coffee. I head toward my boss's door, completely relaxed, and knock twice.

In two seconds, his voice resonates from beyond the door, and I enter. Roman is at his desk and the tapping of keys is all that can be heard.

When he tears his eyes from the keyboard, I feel his gaze scan me from head to toe, and suddenly I bitterly regret wearing these UGGs today. They're slightly hideous. But when his gaze reaches my footwear, I see his mouth curve slightly and then notice the dimples in his cheeks.

Because, of course, he has dimples too.For God's sake.

"Good morning, Luna," he tells me in that tone that I think is meant to be friendly.

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