Page 6 of His Game (His Obsession 1)

LUCA

Iturned from the wall of glass that made up the back of my home and watched as Enzo—one of the only two people I trusted most in the world—carried in Mario’s new fiancée and laid her carefully on my black leather couch. Anyone who saw how gently he handled her would think he actually had a heart beating in that chest, but I knew better.

I finished the whiskey in my hand and set the glass down on the small coffee table in the center of the group of chairs that made up the sitting area, ignoring the twinge of disloyalty in my chest. "Did anyone see you?" I asked him.

Enzo took off his sunglasses—his way of showing respect—and shook his head. "Nah. We're good."

"Are you absolutely sure about that? Not even our own guards outside? Or Mario's? No one can know she's here just yet."

He gave me a sharp nod. "I made sure of it."

"And Tristan..."

"Took the car to get cleaned."

I grunted my approval. When Mario figured out she was gone, he would stop at nothing to find her. Not because he loved her, but because he hated having anything he considered his taken from him. We were much alike in that way. And I had no doubt he'd eventually figure out exactly where his precious bride-to-be had gone, but not until I wanted him to. Not until I was ready. Not until Nicole Calbert was loyal to me.

And only me.

I pulled my cell phone out of my inside jacket pocket and called my father, the only other person who knew about my plan, as we didn’t want this to get out to the rest of the family just yet. He answered on the second ring. "I've got her," I told him before he could say anything.

"Any witnesses?"

"No."

"Good." He hung up.

I slid my phone back into my pocket and picked up my whiskey glass, raising it halfway to my lips before I remembered it was empty and set it back on the counter, the underlying tone in my father's voice ringing in my ears. Running my finger along the rim of my glass, I was careful not to show my emotions to Enzo, although he knew me well enough that hiding anything from him was near impossible.

My father expected me to fuck this up. And after what had happened the last time I'd dealt with Mario, I didn't blame him. But what he didn't know was that I'd been planning this revenge for years. Fucking years. Watching. Waiting. Biding my time and planning every single tiny detail. I’d just been waiting for her.

I would not fail my father again.

My jaw began to ache, and I rolled my head on my neck to ease the tension, then turned back to the woman on the couch. My eyes traveled down her body, exposed as it was by how little she was wearing, the jean shorts and grungy T-shirt looking like she'd pulled them out of a donation bin. She was just as I remembered from the last time I'd seen her, only five days before, small compared to myself and Enzo, tan, curvy...all legs, hips, and tits. A body that deserved to be wrapped in the finest silks and cashmere, not cheap, threadbare cotton.

Her hand twitched, and a muffled moan came from beneath the hood obscuring her face. Curious if she was really as stunning as the recollection of her that had haunted me this last week, I walked over and grabbed a handful of the material and yanked it from her head, thinking I had to be wrong. Women with bodies like that rarely had a face that matched.

Long hair the color of pale wheat tumbled about her face in static-y waves, sticking to her forehead and cheeks, and all I could really see were her pink stained lips stretched wide around the gag. Blood rushed to my groin as I imagined those lips wrapped around my cock. Reaching beneath my suit jacket, I pulled my favorite knife from its shoulder holster. But just as I got the tip near her face, her eyes fluttered open, shades of gray peeking between the strands of her hair. They focused on me, then the knife, and widened in horror. Before I knew what she was about, she knocked my arm away and rolled straight into me, landing on the floor at my feet.

I cursed beneath my breath as she hit my legs, making me stumble backwards and giving her just enough room to get her feet underneath her and stand up. Shoving her hair out of her face, she looked around with red, watering eyes, still disoriented from the ether, then yanked the gag from her mouth and spit out the cloth handkerchief.

Dammit. They should've tied her up. Enzo quickly moved between her and the door as I held both hands out in front of me. "No one's gonna hurt you, Nicole." I had no real worry that she would escape. The room was large, and she had a lot of room to get around him, but Enzo was faster on his feet than he appeared.

She blinked hard a few times as she tried to focus on me, her gray eyes still hazy. I stared at this beauty before me, searching for some kind of flaw. With her naturally light skin and pale hair, you'd think she'd be all washed out without a ton of makeup to make her features more interesting, but that wasn't the case with this one. She was a rare one. Young, petite, with just the right amount of curves to keep a man busy. It was easy to see why Mario wanted her for his arm candy, and why he'd kept her identity secret from everyone.

Or so he'd thought.

I slid my knife back into the holster. "See? The knife is gone. I was only going to use it to take the gag off. That's all." I kept my voice low and calm. I didn't care if she was scared. It wouldn't change my plans for her. But if she tried to run right now, I'd have to catch her and force her into submission, and although I would enjoy the fight, it wouldn't really get us off on the right foot.

Enzo took a step to the side and his shoe squeaked on the marble floor. She whipped around, her back stiffening when she saw him standing only a few feet behind her. My eyes dropped to her ass, barely covered by washed-out jean shorts, then down her classic Hollywood legs. I noticed she only had one sandal on, and my eyes went to Enzo.

"Her other shoe is right outside the door," he answered my unspoken question. "It fell off when I was carrying her in. I'll get it as soon as we get this situation under control."

In the split second my attention was diverted, Nicole kicked off her other sandal and surprised me by running barefoot around the couch—and me–toward the French doors that led out to the back deck. She was quick, I had to give her that, but I was more so, and I easily intercepted her before she touched the handle. Ducking down, I threw my shoulder into her waist and used her own momentum to lift her up and over my shoulder.

She hadn't made a sound up until then, other than a small gasp of fear when she saw my knife coming at her. But now, after a moment of shock to find herself ass up, she let loose. "Let me go, you fuckin' prick!"

Enzo's lips twitched as I passed him, heading toward the stairs. "She doesn't look like an Italian girl," he mused. "But she sure as hell sounds like one."

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