Page 52 of Unholy Obsession

I scale the rest of the rope as quickly as possible, blooding trickling down my arms as I do it. I’m still in the air when the rope starts to tear, fear climbing its way up my throat. I feel it snap and then I’m falling, my hand snapping out in front of me as I near the ground. I land on my wrist when I fall, pain shooting up my arm as I bite back my cry. I don’t have time to sit and collect myself. I scurry through the bushes until I near the woods, running free while the guard calls for back up. I hear him shout when I reach the woods, my feet taking off as I leave the mansion behind me.

When I finally hit pavement and hear the bustling sounds of New York, I start to whistle for a cab. When I hear tires stop before me, I feel around for the door handle and get in quickly, slamming the door behind me.

“I need to get to Club Noir. And fast,” I say. The cab driver immediately takes off.

My family could already be there at this point, but if it is really Marco’s club, they wouldn’t ambush his territory with only the five of them. I don’t know how this business operates, but I know that no matter how angry the men in my family get, they still manage to use their heads first. Even if they want to kill him, they won’t just cross the territory line and walk in with guns blazing. They’ll wait for him to leave, for him to cross their lines first. I just hope that he’s still there and that I’m not too late.

The cab stops and I get out, apologizing for not having money and rushing into the building before the driver has a chance to chase me. As soon as I step into the nightclub, loud music fills my ear and flashing lights play around my eyes. I take one more step and am met with a solid chest.

“Name please.” The guard says.

I shouldn’t answer honestly. I should lie and play this carefully, but I am out of time. I am covered in blood and carrying my broken wrist and am dying to know if Marco is okay.

“My name is Lorena Saracino. I’m here to see Marco,” I say. The guard immediately grabs me by the arm and pulls me through the crowd of dancing bodies.

By the tight grip of his hand, I can tell that I am most certainly not welcome here.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

Marco

“She’s here, boss.” My guard says over the intercom as I lean back in my chair and watch her over the security camera.

She looks disheveled and small, frantic almost. Which she should be, since she just crossed over the boundary line and walked straight into my club without preamble.

“Keep her in the backroom,” I say. Downing the rest of my bourbon, I get up from my office chair and rub at my jaw. I haven’t shaved in a while and the hair is becoming unmanageable at best.

Two days. That’s how long she’s been gone. Two whole days yet for some reason, it’s felt like years. Maybe it’s because I’ve had to cremate my mother during those two days. Perhaps that’s what is making time feel longer.

I run a hand through my hair and walk out of my office towards the backroom on the top floor, the music pounding around me. Club Noir has been under my family's control for over twenty years and for the last two days, it’s been my safe haven. Until she walked in. It seems that everything seems to become restless when she’s near. Everything becomes chaos, even my heart.

I stop outside of the door, the bass of the music matching the rhythmic timing of my pulse as my hand wraps around the doorknob. I open it and step inside, her small body perched softly on the worn leather couch. I can feel her eyes on me as I shut the door and lean back against it, my eyes on my shoes as I stand there in silence.

“Marco—” She starts to say. I hold up a hand, silencing her as a wave of turbulent emotions smash inside of me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice hollow as I speak to her.

“I came to see you. To… to talk to you. There’s so much I need to tell you, but first I just wanted to make sure that you were okay—”

“Enough!” I shout.

If I was okay? Her brother shot my mother in cold blood right in front of us and she came here to ask if I was okay? Jesus Christ this family is filled with comedians.

I march towards her now, my eyes narrowed and on her face. When I reach her, I push her flush against the couch and lean over her as I wrap a hand around her throat, squeezing tightly as her bright eyes widen, but not in fear. It looks like confusion to me.

“Why are you here?” I ask, her head shaking as her eyes widen even more.

“I escaped to find you,” she struggles to get out the words, but they only make me angrier.

“Escaped? From your own home? That’s rich, Lorena. How can I be sure that there isn’t a team of men waiting on standby to burst in my own goddamn club right now?” I ask, my lips a breath away from her as her mouth trembles and eyes water.

“Because…” she whispers, searching my face as my hand remains immobile around her slender throat.

“Spit it out, princess,” I seethe.

“Because I love you!” She shouts, my hand falling away from her throat as soon as the words leave her lips. We slump down onto the couch together, sitting side by side as our knees touch.

I stare at her for a while then, watching as she pulls in heaping gulps of air, blood marking her skin as she stares at me while taking shaky breaths. What in the hell has happened to her since she’s been gone? I swear to God, if those bastards have harmed her in any way…

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