Page 12 of Depths of Obsession
CHAPTER 4
“Can I get you anything else?” Suzanna’s voice drips with suggestion, her smile offering more than just drinks. A few hours ago, I might’ve taken her up on it. That had been the plan. But now? Now, I can’t summon any interest. Whatever spark had been there has fizzled out.
“I’m good,” I reply, taking the scotch off her tray.
She pouts, like she’s a little disappointed, but I don’t even look back as I head up the stairs to my office.
Damn Pippa. It’s why I have avoided her for so long. She is the one woman I desperately want but cannot have. Her tears damn near killed me. I hate crying but Pippa crying is painful on a whole other level. I cannot fathom why that woman has such a hold on me, but God help me, she does. The sound of her heart rate increasing at my touch mixed with her scent and those huge eyes, the merest touch of her hand would make me take her to bed. I know she wants me as much as I want her. I will not let anyone touch her. I made that promise and I will keep it. Anyone but me, that is, because before this is over, I know I’m going to touch Pippa in all kinds of ways and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
The club is packed tonight. Bodies writhe together on the dance floor, moving to the relentless pounding of the bass. A loud bark of laughter pierces the air, but it does nothing to ease my mood. Normally, I’d thrive off this energy, but tonight the edge I’m on is sharp and cutting. The noise, the chaos—it grates on my nerves. I take the stairs two at a time, needing to put distance between me and the madness below.
I walk down the hallway and push open the door to my office, closing it quickly behind me. The second the door clicks shut, silence reigns. For the first time all night, I feel a moment’s peace. Dealing with Gazzago and Pippa have added a layer of stress I did not need.
I slide behind my desk, sinking into the large leather chair that fits my ass perfectly, like it was made for me. I sip my scotch, hoping it will soften the emotions I can’t seem to control, though I doubt it will. Before I can even relax, the door opens, and Rocco Constantini steps in. His presence is impossible to ignore—my right-hand man, always looming.
“I saw you come in and pass up what Suzanna was offering,” he says with a raised brow, crossing the room with his usual swagger. “Not like you to turn down a chance to fuck a gorgeous woman.”
“Not in the mood,” I growl, swirling the scotch in my glass.
“Why is your shirt wet?”
I glance down. Pippa’s tears. I can still smell lavender from when I held her. “It’s a long story.”
Rocco chuckles, but it’s without humor. “It always is with you.” He walks over to the far wall and hits a button. The blackout screens lift, revealing a panoramic view of the club below. The music is muted, but the flashing lights and sea of bodies continue to pulse. “Since you’re already in a shitty mood, let me add to it,” he says, his voice flat.
I set my drink down, the irritation building. “You don’t want to do that.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Rocco says, turning away from the view of the club to face me, his expression serious. “There’s been another overdose. Singapore club this time.”
“Black Heart?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Rocco nods. “That makes fifty-six ODs in the last three months, across all of your clubs.”
“Fucking hell.” I rub my face with both hands, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Normally we have maybe two or three overdoses across all my clubs per year but recently, the number has skyrocketed. It’s outrageous. “Are we any closer to finding out who’s selling this shit?”
“No.” Rocco scrubs a hand down his face as he takes a seat across from me. He’s a solid presence, built like an ox—broad shoulders, well-muscled chest, and a scar slicing through one eyebrow which gives him a permanently pissed-off look. Tonight, he looks weary. He heaves a massive breath before he speaks. “I’ve tried everything. But we can’t seem to catch a break. The thing is; this isn’t happening anywhere else.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “I thought it was spreading?”
“It’s spreading, all right,” Rocco replies, leaning forward. “But only in Emerald Dagger clubs. It started at your club in Rome, spread to here, then Paris, Amsterdam, London, and now Singapore. None of the other club owners have seen Black Heart. Just heard rumors and whispers of some drug that gives an incredible high. No other clubs… hell, no other cities are being hit. Only your establishments. That’s why everyone’s here, packed into your clubs on a fucking Tuesday night. They all want a taste of Black Heart.”
I stare at him, trying to wrap my head around what he’s telling me. Rocco’s always had a handle on things, but this? This is beyond us. The realization that someone’s targeting me, using my own clubs to push this lethal drug—it makes my blood boil.
“So, no other clubs are dealing with these overdoses?” I ask, needing confirmation.
Rocco shakes his head. “Just us. And like I said, everyone out there thinks it’s something you created. They think you’re behind Black Heart, offering them some exclusive, insane high. People are stopping me to ask if I can hook them up.” He gestures toward the crowd below, where bodies are still moving, oblivious to the chaos we’re trying to contain.
“Fuck.” The word comes out heavier than it should be. This nightmare has been going on for months, and we’re no closer to an answer. “Do we know what Black Heart is yet?”
Rocco shakes his head again, frustration etched in every line of his face. “I can’t even get my hands on any. I suspect it’s some kind of NPS.”
“NPS?” I raise an eyebrow. “What the fuck is that?”
“New psychoactive substances,” Rocco explains. “They’re synthetic. Designed to mimic the effects of other drugs, but with enough chemical difference to skirt the law. It’s the only reason we’re not in deeper shit yet. If the cops could charge you with dealing, they would’ve by now. Everyone already thinks you’re selling it, so it doesn’t matter if you aren’t. Perception is everything.”
I stand and start to pace. “Do I need to go to Singapore?” Being a vampire lets me travel at amazing speeds as long as I do it at night, so the world doesn’t notice.
“No point. There’s nothing you can do there and it’s probably better if you keep your distance. Rumor is that Interpol is now getting involved since this is happening across so many countries. It’s been noticed that the overdoses only happen at your clubs. You’re going to have to keep a low profile.”
