Page 74 of Depths of Obsession
Nico nods to someone across the room, the smile fading from his lips.Father is going to be pissed when he finds out. He’s more worried about the curse than he’s letting on.
It says "the brothers three,"I remind him.All three of us need to be married. Just don’t get married, and we won’t have to worry about it.
I move toward where I last left Pippa, Nico keeping pace beside me.I don't like this, Luca,he says, his tone serious and wary.There's very little chance we're getting that necklace. This whole thing feels risky—getting involved with Gazzago’s mess isn’t wise. I don’t want his family to die, but I’m not sure this is the best move for ours.
My brother isn’t wrong.I honestly don’t care about Gazzago. I do, however, care deeply about who’s behind framing me, who wants me taken down so badly. The fastest way to get to the bottom of this is through the necklace.
Nico grunts, shaking his head.Remember the first time we came here?
A small smile tugs at my lips.The day it opened. I remember. It was… incredible.The memory comes back clear and vivid. I still hear the excited chatter of women marveling at the shop windows, the awed gasps of the men gazing up at the miraculous architecture of the iron-and-glass ceiling. The place hasn’t changed much. The same kinds of people, the same sense of wonder.
I miss those days,Nico admits, his voice tinged with nostalgia.It was simpler. If we had a problem with someone like Gazzago, we’d just rip his throat out. Problem solved.
I nod, my jaw tightening.Agreed. Sometimes I wonder if running the clubs, managing the family—all this bullshit—is worth it. We’ve got enough money. Why do we need more?
Nico sighs, a knowing look in his eyes.It’s not about the money, Luca. It’s about power. That’s harder to give up.
I mull over his words, rolling them around in my mind.Maybe our cousin Kyros has it right. He seems contented enough,I say.He is an introvert who sticks to his corner of the magick realm.
Nico snorts, a skeptical expression crossing his face.Kyros is a fucking recluse. You’d be bored out of your mind without the clubs to keep you busy.
I grimace, shrugging slightly. Maybe.But right now, I’d kill for a little boredom.
We reach the spot where I left Pippa, and I stop abruptly. The place is bustling, people moving about in colorful gowns and black tuxedos, but she’s not here. A cold prickle of dread moves down my spine.
“Where did you say you left Pippa?” Nico asks out loud, his eyes narrowing as he scans the crowd.
“Right here. Same spot as you did,” I mutter, my gaze darting around, trying to pick out her face, her bright eyes. I look toward the open Louis Vuitton store, then to other storefronts nearby. But don’t spy her. I focus, cutting out the background noise, searching for her voice, her scent. My heart pounds harder, my gut twisting.
“She’s not here,” I say, the words bitter on my tongue. “She’s not in the Galleria.” Panic claws at my chest. I can’t lose her now.
Nico’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening as his gaze sharpens. “You think she’d leave on her own?”
My gut clenches, the thought tearing through me. Would she run? Not now. Not after we got married. It makes no sense. Then again, once Pippa gets something in her head, there’s no stopping her, but if she did… God help her, I’ll wring her neck myself.
“Luca?” Rocco’s voice crackles through my earbud, sharp and urgent. “We’ve got a problem.”
Nico turns, locking eyes with me. He heard it too, his expression darkening with concern.
I grit my teeth, my voice low. “What is it?”
“It’s Pippa.”
My pulse hammers. “What about her?”
“She’s walking across the piazza toward the Duomo. Calaba’s with her. It looks like…”
My heart nearly stops. Calaba with Pippa—fuck. “Looks like what?”
“He’s got his arm around her. It looks like they’re lovers, but Luca, her expression is terrified.”
I’m already moving toward the side exit of the Galleria, the door that opens to the piazza. Nico is right beside me. “Rocco, keep your eyes on her. Don’t lose her,” I say, my voice tight with anxiety.
“I’m watching her, but I have to hack into the Duomo cameras to see inside.”
Nico and I stride across the cobblestones of Piazza del Duomo. The square is alive with tourists and locals—people taking photos, couples walking arm in arm. And there, far ahead, I catch sight of Pippa’s bright hair and vibrant green of her dress. Calaba has his arm wrapped around her, guiding her toward the grand façade of the Duomo. My blood runs cold.
Don’t do anything stupid,Nico warns me through our mind link.
