Page 51 of Unruly Obsession
I scream, pure dread running through my veins as memories of what happened in Italy assault me.
The guest bedroom door bursts open. Lorenzo and the intruder whip their guns at one another in unison.
The two stare at one another only for a moment before Lorenzo grits out, “You’re early.”
All thoughts of blood and fire evaporate as my heart pounds, but my focus drifts to something entirely different. My mouth dries as Lorenzo steps toward me, butt-ass naked, water dripping down his muscles as he leaves small puddles of water in his wake.
He doesn’t look away from the man as he prowls toward me and comes to a stop as if blocking the man's view of me. My gaze dips down to his ass.
That’s a good fucking ass.
The man in the mask chuckles as he lowers his own gun. “Since when have you ever been disappointed by punctuality? But if you want me to join you in the shower to help loosen you up a little, I’m not opposed.”
His gaze drops to Lorenzo’s cock, and I can’t help but angle my head slightly to do the same. I swallow. Hard.
It’s only semi-hard, and I’m terrified by the sheer size.
I don’t even think that would fit inside me.
Tattoos mark his back and chest. They’re random yet elegant, and I’m surprised by the renegade style. There’s one that sticks out, the one on his arm that looks like a childlike angel with a bow.Cupid maybe?
“Quit being a smartass and remove your mask,” Lorenzo instructs.
I lean into Lorenzo, my heart loudly beating as I find safety in hiding behind his size.
“Are you sure about that? Boss is pretty clear he doesn’t want anyone seeing this pretty face. Aren’t you scared your woman might fall for me?” the man asks.
“That’s an order. Remove your mask. Don’t make me regret this, you little shit,” Lorenzo bites out. “I’ll deal with the boss's punishment. I’m ordering you to remove the mask because… it’s unsettling for her,” he says, looking over his shoulder, his dark-brown gaze scanning over me, as if to make sure I’m okay.
The man seems hesitant to remove his mask.
“What’s going on here?” I quietly ask. Nothing feels like mine anymore. Not my apartment. Not my life. Why am I doing everything to keep my shit together when everything is being imposed on me from the outside in? This, of all places, was meant to be my sanctuary, and now I don’t even have that.
Another rule broken. I told him specifically not to invite his weirdo friends, and here we are, with some guy wearing a fucking mask, casually leaning against the couch in my living room, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
The man removes his mask. I expect to see jagged scars or burns or something terrifying, not bright-blue eyes set in a youthful face. He’s younger than I would’ve guessed; perhaps a few years younger than me. But there’s an edge to him that definitely has me taking a step back. He smiles, and it's perfect yet malicious at the same time. This is not a good man. And although I know the same holds for Lorenzo, he feels different.
“I need to do some work tonight,” Lorenzo says, turning to face me. My gaze immediately drops to his cock, and that palpable tension crackles between us. I hate how I naturally lean into him, and I have to force myself to step back. Because no matter how attractive he is, this constant invasion of my privacy is not okay.
Lorenzo snaps his fingers, and without any further communication, the other man throws a cushion toward him. He snatches it from the air and holds it in front of his cock. And I know it’s for my sake.
“What the fuck is happening?” I find myself asking.
“The Armani household conducts a lot of underhanded business. When it gets messy, he calls on his hounds. Despite this guy being a total pain in my ass, I trust him to protect you in my absence,” Lorenzo states. “The hounds, however, aren’tusually allowed to show their faces, but I’ll take the consequence in making an exception for you.”
A breath whooshes out of me. “Are you kidding me? I’m not some object to be passed around. What, you didn’t think I’m worth even a conversation when you’re inviting murderers into my home?”
He frowns, almost as if confused. I don’t know why he’s shocked; we’ve been having constant arguments about boundaries, and he’s disregarded them every step of the way.
“Murderer is such an ugly word. I prefer professional killer because I do get paid for it,” the newcomer says.
“Shut up!” I snap at him before Lorenzo has the chance. I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m not some package to be handed off. This is my home, and you yourself are not even a guest. I’m sick of all of this shit! No one is coming for me, Lorenzo, so you need to pack your shit and get the fuck out of here!”
Silence fills the air as he stares at me, those brown eyes darkening.
The newcomer whistles. “I think I like her.”
“You don’t touch her,” Lorenzo barks.
