Page 16 of His Game (His Obsession 1)

LUCA

Iheld Veda close to me throughout the night. I told her it was because I didn't trust her, but that wasn't the reason why. Even if I was asleep, there was no way she would escape me. I had cameras and silent alarms everywhere. So many that the only person allowed in my house at night was Enzo, and I texted him when I was about to go to sleep so he would know the house was fully activated. He had the codes if he needed to move around. Tristan stayed in a guest house on my property, as did the rest of my men when I needed them here. If not, they went home to their families.

It wasn’t that I trusted Enzo more. I’d known Tristan just as long. We’d fucked girls together…had family meals together…killed together…

Enzo had just been the (not so) lucky one to call the right side of the coin. When he got tired of it, I’d change the codes and switch to Tristan. The less people that knew them, the safer it was for all involved.

With Veda’s back against my front and her perfect ass cradled by my hips, it took her a long time to relax against me and fall asleep, her chest rising and falling with deep, slow breaths and her mouth slightly parted in sleep. Rolling onto my back, I touched the bottom of the lamp on the nightstand until the bed was lit with a soft glow. Slowly, so as not to wake her, I pulled her blonde hair away from her throat.

“I’m asking for a truce.”

Those were the words I’d given her, and I was surprised to realize now that she was so calm and quiet I didn’t really mean them. I enjoyed the fire in this woman.

Her pale skin was still a little red where my hand had cut off her breath, but no bruising as of yet. I don't know why this proof of my violent nature was bothering me so much I couldn’t find sleep myself. I'd done much worse things to much more innocent people. But for some reason, seeing the evidence of my hands rough on her skin—pain I'd inflicted myself—hit me right in the gut.

Rolling back over, I shut off the lamp. But I didn't sleep. Not for a long time.

What the fuck was it about her that affected me so much? I barely knew her. Expelling a long breath, I tried to find a comfortable position.

If I was smart, I'd give her over to Tristan and have him keep her in the guest house out of my sight. That had been my original plan, until she'd tried to run. Once she did that, I had no choice but to hunt her. I'd instinctively brought her up to my room, and I'd had this inexplicable need to keep her near me ever since. Hell, I even forced her into the shower with me. For what? Some false sense of intimacy?

It made no sense. It’s not like I was starving for female company. I had multiple women ready to drop everything for me—including their panties—whenever I snapped my fingers.

If my father heard about this, he'd tell me immediately I was too distracted by her. That history was repeating itself. But that's not what this was. Veda was a fighter, that’s all. And I couldn't take the chance she would get away from me before I had the chance to find out where the real Nicole was. Just in case what I suspected was true, and I ended up needing her after all.

She whimpered in her sleep, as though she sensed how obsessed my thoughts were with her, and I curled my body around hers, wrapping her tight in my arms. I smelled my shampoo in her hair, and once again her ass cradled my cock like that was the only place it was meant to be. She fit against me perfectly, and after a moment, she settled down.

I still didn't sleep. Instead, I enjoyed the feel of her against me while I remembered the vision of her naked and wet in my shower. It had taken everything in my power to honor my promise not to touch her. And I’d almost kept it. But in the end, I couldn’t keep myself from feeling the heavy strands of her hair in my hands. Or brushing her soft skin with the very tips of my fingers as I washed her luscious body.

I thought briefly of getting back in there alone and taking care of the painful hard on I was going to have all night, but in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to leave her. It was a sweet kind of torture, keeping her so close without allowing myself to have her, and I readily admitted I was a masochist. But this burgeoning obsession I had with this woman could not go any farther. I didn't care if my dick turned purple and fell off. The only woman I'd ever allowed myself to care about had been killed as she rode my cock. If I allowed myself to grow attached to Veda, she was sure to meet a similar fate. Like any mafia man worth his salt, I had too many enemies.

Somewhere in the early morning hours, I fell asleep, visions of Veda with a bullet hole between her gray eyes dancing around in my head.

The next morning,I woke up to find Veda wasn't beside me. My heart pounding in my throat, I bolted out of bed and was halfway to the door when I heard the water come on in the bathroom sink. I immediately changed direction, opening the door without knocking.

Veda stood in front of the sink, brushing her teeth.

With my fucking toothbrush.

She froze for a few seconds when she saw me standing in the doorway, but when I said nothing, she resumed what she was doing, her eyes never leaving me in the mirror.

Crossing my arms over my bare chest in an attempt to hide the rapid rise and fall of my breathing, I leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her. As I waited for the panic to die off, I nearly managed to convince myself I was only reacting this way because Veda was my ace in the hole, and not because I gave a fuck that she could've found a way out despite all of my precautions. Or worse, gotten shot down by my men patrolling the grounds.

The image of her body on the ground with her limbs twisted beneath her at odd angles, her clothes blood-soaked, and her bright eyes dulled by death flashed through my mind, overtaking the swiftly fading memories of my dreams.

Something I hadn't felt in a long time roared through my blood, and I shook the image away. But I made a mental note to lighten the patrols around my home to the bare minimum. Just for now.

Veda spit into the sink, then rinsed out my toothbrush and put it back into the holder. Pulling her hair away from her face, she cupped one hand, using it to catch the water and rinse out her mouth.

I stared at her reflection in the mirror. More specifically, at the developing bruises marring the pale skin of her throat. It bothered me much more than it should. This woman meant nothing to me. So why did I feel like shit for teaching her a lesson she desperately needed to learn?

"Are you just going to stand there creeping on me all day, or did you need to use the bathroom?"

Her voice was still raspy, but not as bad as it had been last night. "I'm sorry about your throat," I told her, surprising myself.

Veda said nothing as she started opening drawers. When she found what she was looking for—my hairbrush—she began to brush the knots out of her hair with quick, jerky movements.

I pushed myself off the doorframe and took a step into the room. "Stop."

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