Page 3 of His Ruthless Obsession

CHAPTERTWO

Two weeks later…

Antonella Ambrosino is walking out of our main financial office in downtown Chicago. My eyes lock onto her, my skinburns, my hands flexing subconsciously around my copy ofNerudaas I bend its spine.

I watch her long beautiful curls bounce against her back as she struts down the sidewalk. Her curves are hidden beneath the thick suit jacket she’s wearing on this cool spring day. A biting chill still lingers in the air from the harsh winter we’ve just had, but Chicago is still in bloom.

I slap my book closed and tuck it into the insert of my long coat, and I pull out a few dollar bills to throw down onto the table for my untouched coffee.

I head out of the cafe without acknowledging any of the waitstaff who send me off with a cheery goodbye, and instead focus my entire attention on Antonella.

I match her steps, falling into line with her only a few hundred feet back. This is the game we play almost every day. I walk her to and from the office, keeping an eye on her every move as she goes to punch in her eight hours—and then once again as she goes back to her place.

Work, then home. She doesn’t do much else.

I watch her pull out her phone like she does every morning to call one of her friends. I can’t hear what she’s saying from here, but her arms wave wildly as she talks. She must be upset about something.

Her engagement.

I found out about it when she did, though her father had been in talks with Edgar Thomas about marrying her to his son for months. Trying to get in business with him for even longer.

My anger boiled over the second I saw Ben Thomas’ face gracing my desktop. Marco Ambrosino’s ambitions were her death sentence, marrying his only daughter to a spoiled daddy’s boy: the heir to Edgar’sverylucrative business.

It’s common practice in the mafia world. Closing a deal with a wedding is our version of a happily ever after. But certainly not for the daughter that’s given away.

Ben is a sorry excuse for a man who will never be cut out for running the absolute dynasty that is Thomas Industries.

Sure, the guy has merit on paper. But if you look close enough, the only reason he got the chance to go to Harvard—and laughably didn’t even graduate—was because dear old daddy was on the board and pledged a shit ton to the school. Plus, his donations made sure the admissions office kept his kid’s record clear of all the hardcore partying he did on campus.

When I’d followed Antonella to her little rendezvous with the eldest Thomas heir, I’d been interested to see how things would play out. Would she be a good girl and do exactly as she’d been told? Or would she tell Ben Thomas to go fuck himself?

A toss-up, either way.

But it was clear from the way she dashed out to her town car that something had gone wrong. Very wrong.

As much as I’d observed her, unwillingly at first, Antonella has always given me the impression that nothing fazes her. Coupled with the fact that her father runs one of the most prolific Italian crime syndicates this side of Chicago, it’s safe to say she’s got guts—loyalty.

Even if it means marrying into another family to please her daddy.

Needless to say, her surprise at her new fiancé’s coke addiction—as well as whatever else it was that he’d said to her to scare her off—was probably something I should have predicted.

I know that ifI had witnessed the interaction, I would have dragged Ben out into the alley and beaten his face in.

I slow my pace when Antonella stops in front of a flower shops down the street. I hang back, tucking myself into the closest alleyway. She leans over, cupping a hand around the underside of a wide hydrangea and breathes in its scent.

I watch her eyes close, and a small smile graces her lips.

I can’t help but feel a small pang of fondness for her, watching her take in the world around her with such genuine interest.

However, over the past few days, thoughts like these have slowly morphed into something much darker.

Images of her on her knees, begging for me as I fist my hand in her hair. Her sweet eyes filled with undeniable pleasure as she—

I shake my head.

I had no intention of gettingentangled in Antonella Ambrosino's life.

In fact, I’m only here to try and put a stop to her father’s reign over Chicago.

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