Page 41 of His Ruthless Obsession

An hour later, we're tangled in her sheets, both catching our breath. Jazz rolls away, reaching for the water on her nightstand.The moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on her bare shoulder, highlighting old scars I've never asked about.

"You're quiet tonight." I trace my fingers down her spine. She's been quiet for days, really, and I haven't been sure why. She waters her plants, goes to the club, hangs out here. I'm not sure what's wrong, but there's distance between us.

She takes a long drink. "Just tired."

"That's what you said yesterday." And the day before. I sit up, studying her profile. "Something on your mind?"

"No." Jazz slides out of bed, pulling on her robe. She moves to the window, staring out at the city lights. "Everything's fine."

I follow, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. She leans back against my chest, but there's a new stiffness to her shoulders. Gone is the easy banter, the sharp comebacks that first drew me to her. In their place is this careful distance, growing wider by the day.

"Talk to me, little dove."

"About what?" Her laugh holds no warmth. "The weather? Your day at the office?"

I turn her to face me. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." She slips from my grasp, heading toward the bathroom. "I should get ready for bed." And then she pauses and looks at me. "I'm having brunch with my friends tomorrow. Marco will have someone drive me."

I nod. "That will be fun."

Without another word, she turns away, and I can't stand it. I can't stand feeling like she's just out of my goddamn reach even though I'm here every night.

"Jazz."

She pauses but doesn't turn around. "What?"

The words stick in my throat. I don't know how to bridge this gap without the physical. Don't know how to reach her whenshe's building walls I can't see. I don't do fucking emotions, so I don't know what to make of the ones clawing away at the inside of my chest.

"Never mind." I grab my pants from the floor. "Get some rest."

She disappears into the bathroom without another word, leaving me alone with the growing certainty that I'm losing her, one silent night at a time.

But I won’t ever let her go. And I don’t know what that will do to us.

17

JAZZ

The city blurs past my window as Angelo drives me to meet my friends for brunch. My head rests against the cool glass, thoughts spinning like the wheels beneath us. Every shadow holds a potential threat now. Every stranger could be the one who wants me dead.

And then there's Nerio. God, Nerio. The way he moves, speaks, commands attention without trying. The dangerous glint in his eyes when he's angry. The gentle touch of his hands when he thinks no one's watching.

I squeeze my eyes shut. What kind of person falls for someone like him? Someone who orders hits and runs criminal enterprises like they're just another business venture? The worst part is knowing exactly what he is and still wanting him.

I have been quiet lately. I can't seem to get out of my own head. My thoughts are at war, so loud I can barely think, and most days I just sit curled up in front of the window. I spend every night wrapped up in Nerio, enjoying his body but wondering what the hell I am doing.

I feel so lost.

Angelo pulls up to the restaurant, a trendy spot downtown with exposed brick walls and hanging plants. My friends are already seated on the patio, mimosas in hand. Angelo takes position at a nearby table, trying to blend in and failing spectacularly in his black suit.

"Jazz!" Mikayla jumps up to hug me. "We were starting to worry."

"Sorry I'm late." I slide into my seat, noting how their eyes track Angelo. "Traffic was brutal."

Skye leans forward, perfectly manicured nails wrapped around her glass. "So we're just not going to address the suited gentleman watching our table?"

"He's...security." I grab the menu, hoping to change the subject.

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