Page 62 of His Game (His Obsession 1)

LUCA

"Maybe there's another way, Luca.”

I glanced up from my phone to see Enzo watching me in the rearview mirror, his sunglasses on the dash. We were on our way to see my father. I'd left Tristan at the house to keep an eye on Veda. "Another way for what?"

"Another way to get revenge on Mario that doesn’t involve an innocent woman.”

"You should be watching the road," I told him, dismissing his concerns. I was growing tired of this conversation.

“Luca."

With a heavy sigh, I set aside my phone and the article I'd been reading. "There are many other ways I could be dealing with Mario. But none will bring me so much pleasure as to watch the sheer horror on his face when he realizes I'm about to kill the woman he thinks I took from him."

"Except she's not Nicole Calbert. She's Veda."

He said nothing more. He didn't have to. "You're getting soft, Enzo. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you spend so much time with her.”

"That's bullshit, and you know it."

We came up to a light, and he stopped the car. Our eyes clashed in the rearview mirror. I met his glare without flinching.

"You care about her," he told me. "More than care about her. And don’t try to fucking deny it because I know you, Luca. And you're just gonna stick a bullet in her head?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

The light turned green, but he didn't go until the car behind us honked their horn. With a curse, he checked his mirrors and stepped on the gas. "There's gotta be another way."

"You think Mario shouldn't get what's coming to him?" I asked in genuine curiosity. "That he shouldn't pay for making a fool out of me in front of our family? For taking away one of the few people in my life I ever dared to care about?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what exactly are you saying, Enzo?"

"I'm saying she shouldn't have to die for our sick little games. That's all. That maybe, just maybe, there's another way."

"And then what?" I cocked my head to the side. "What the fuck do we do with her then? We can't let her go. She knows too much about us."

"We keep her."

I barked out a laugh, but it was an ugly sound. "We can't keep her."

"Why not?"

"Because she is the one thing that makes me weak," I admitted quietly.

Enzo stared straight ahead. If he felt validated in any way that I’d admitted it out loud, he didn’t show it. And he didn't bring up the subject again. There was no point. There was no place for weakness in the type of life I led. He knew this as well as I.

My cell phone vibrated on the seat beside me. It was Tristan. When I looked up, I found Enzo watching me, one eyebrow lifted in question. "That was Tristan," I told him. "We have a lead on Mario’s exact whereabouts."

Enzo's eyes dropped back to the road. After a moment, he nodded and slid his sunglasses back on. Nothing more was said by either of us as we turned onto my father’s road and went through his security detail.

We were personally greeted by my father at the door of his Texas residence when we arrived. He’d bought the house shortly after I’d moved here, so he’d have a place to stay on his frequent visits. It was only a slightly smaller version of the isolated mansion he owned up north. “Luca! My son! It's about damn time." Grabbing my face in both hands, he kissed each cheek in turn. Then did the same to Enzo. "Enzo, how are you, boy?"

Enzo removed his sunglasses and slid them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I’m good, sir. Thank you."

"Come in! Come in! Linda made pasta."

My father's latest whore came out of the kitchen right on cue, wiping her hands on a towel. Her brassy hair was piled on top of her head, and she wore the usual thick layer of makeup on her face that made her look ten years older than she was, but at least she wore clothes that decently covered her this time, even if the tight pants and top appeared to be two sizes too small. With the allowance my father paid her to stay with him, you would think she could afford to class herself up a bit.

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