The Maddest Obsession by Danielle Lori

MY SECOND HUSBAND’S FUNERAL CAME on a mid-September day.

Sunlight splayed through the trees onto the cemetery floor, silhouetting each shade of black. Black hearts, black suits, black dresses. Polished shoes and Glocks. The Cosa Nostra had come to pay their respects in a sea of black.

A light breeze tousled the mantilla veil around my face. As gruesome as it seemed, this was a day I’d been waiting for since the moment I’d been married. I thought I would feel different. Free. But now that it was here, I felt nothing. Numbness had spread through my body, filling every vessel and vein.

Elena squeezed my hand before drifting with Ace and the rest of the crowd toward the line of shiny cars.

“You ready to go?” Lorenzo asked.

“I’ll find another ride home. I have something I need to do.”

“All right. But stay out of trouble.”

Slipping my hands into my dress pockets, I headed through the cemetery. The headstone was small and simple. It was the first time I’d ever visited it. The first time I’d had the will.

Sydney Brown, it read. Beloved Daughter and Friend.

I stared at the word friend for the longest time, searching for the right words.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry you ever met me, that I ever introduced you to this world. To Antonio.” My voice cracked, and I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

I’d forgiven her a long time ago, but the guilt I felt for dragging her into my twisted life was still a heavy weight in my chest.

My gaze caught on movement to my side.

The procession had left but Christian remained. He stood by his car, hands in his pockets and his gaze on me. It was thoughtful and warm enough to touch my skin like a ray of sun.

It’d been only sheer luck I hadn’t seen him since the night I went to his apartment. I’d bared my deepest, darkest secret with him, naively believed it meant something, and been turned down, hard. The cutting ache of rejection still burned whenever I thought of him. And, to my bemusement, that happened to be more frequently every day.

He watched me as I walked over to him.

“Did someone blackmail you to take me home?” I asked.

“Can’t I do something nice for someone?”

“For me?” I raised a brow, forcing amusement. “Please.”

His jaw ticked. He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. When it came back up to me, it was so heavy and humorless it pinned me to my spot.

“I had every intention of coming back for you three years ago, Gianna.”

My small smile fell. Shock rocked me at my center. He could sometimes be so blunt when least expected, it stole my breath.

“I was in Moscow those two weeks. But if I had known, I would’ve stopped it. Your marriage.” He looked around the cemetery, at the tent where my husband’s casket lay. “All of this.”

My lungs felt tight. “It wasn’t your responsibility to save me.”

His gaze was steady. “Nonetheless, I would have.”

“Savior complex?” I joked to lighten the mood.

“No.” It was a harsh word.

My throat burned, making my voice bitter. “Why are you telling me this?” Why are you making me feel this way?

“You hate me for that night.”

“I don’t—” I cut myself off. Because there was a part of me that resented him for acting like he’d cared and then disappearing, leaving me tied to another unwanted marriage. It wasn’t rational—none of it had been his fault—but, still, the feeling was there.

We stared at each other as that awareness settled between us.

“I still don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” I told him. “It’s not like it matters anymore.” Right?

He shook his head, letting out a disdainful noise through his teeth.

My heart beat hard against my ribcage.

His eyes lifted to mine, and they were filled with fire: violence, confliction, and a flash of possession. “Ask me why I kiss you.”

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

I shook my head.

Because I was suddenly terrified of the answer.

With his handsome, aristocratic face, he looked like a pissed-off prince who was darkly amused to be denied what he wanted. “I thought you were braver than this, Gianna.”

I wasn’t. I’m not.

“Remember that the next time you offer me your body, malyshka,” he bit out. “Because next time, I’ll take it. Regardless if there are still tears on your face. Fuck, I won’t care if you cry the whole way through it.”

I swallowed.

He’d once insinuated I was breakable, like a flimsy piece of glass. And that truth was suddenly loud in my ears. I needed to keep my distance from this man; nothing good could come from this chemistry between us. It was explosive and addictive but forged in hate and mistrust. He had always won, and I knew, if I explored this attraction further, he would be the victor in the end.

My silence was my forfeit.

He shook his head. “Get in the car, Gianna.”

He took me home, and we didn’t say another word to each other on the way.

“I think it’s too small,” I groaned.

“What do you expect, eating all that junk lately?” Magdalena chastised, yanking on the laces of my dress. “There are chocolate stains on all of your clothes.”

“I can’t help it if I eat my feelings.”

“If you aren’t careful, querida, you’ll look like a busted can of biscuits by Christmas.”

“Everyone should put on a little weight for the winter,” I countered, turning to look at myself in the mirror. My dress was a slim-fitting sheath style, with a lace bustier and a corset that tied up at the back. It was beautiful, but maybe not that practical.

I placed a hand on my stomach. “I can’t really breathe that well.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Now, let me put the finishing touches on your hair. Then, you need to leave. Roberto is coming over.”

I was going to complain about this being my apartment but couldn’t get all the air in to do so. Consequently, when I could speak, what came out was, “Hide the chocolate, Magdalena.”

It was Ace’s club’s fiftieth anniversary, and the place was easily overcapacity. But that was probably the lesser of the illegal activities taking place tonight.

“Really, Val?” I sighed. “My husband’s funeral was two days ago.”

“Oh, come on. You have to jump back into the saddle sometime! Let’s be honest, how long has it been since you’ve been laid?”

I ignored that question and eyed the blind date she’d brought along. Handsome, dark hair, lean build, a couple of inches taller than me in heels. He was exactly my type—or, at least, what I would have preferred not long ago. Though, now, I couldn’t help but feel like everything was wrong with him.

Frustration ran through me. I’d been abstinent for so long it felt like I was a virgin again. And now that I was finally free to do as I wished, I couldn’t find any interest in men. Well, besides one. Christian had reintroduced me to sex, and it only made sense I was feeling a little attached to him because of it.

“At least give him a try, Gianna. He’s been anxious to meet you.”

The truth was, I needed touch and sex and affection. I lived for it. And I didn’t believe I could stand to be without it anymore. Maybe if I forced some interest in this blind date of mine, it would eventually become genuine.

“Fine. Do introduce us, Val.”

“See, I knew this was exactly what you needed.” She grabbed my arm, and we walked toward a table where her husband Ricardo and my date were talking. “By the way, loving the dress. Very classy steampunk. Can you breathe?”

“Not at all.”

She chuckled as we reached the table.

“Van, this is Gianna. Gianna, this is Van.” She shoved me toward him like I was a nervous teenager meeting a boy at a dance. I rolled my eyes but stepped forward and offered my hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

He smiled. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

His smile was beautiful, and his voice was rich and deep. The kind of voice that made you feel like he’d seen you naked just from the way the syllables poured off his lips.

I must have been off the saddle way too long.

Because I actually blushed.

While he kissed the top of my hand, I passed Val a wide-eyed glance.

She winked.

A hot sensation trailed down my spine; I turned my head toward the door. My gaze collided with Christian’s and stuck there. My heart slowed, each beat incinerating as fire licked beneath my skin.

He’d always been out-of-this-world handsome, and I’d never reacted to him like most of the other women in the room. But now I knew the way his hands felt on me, the intoxicating way he kissed, the sound of his groan when he came. And I wanted all of it again, even though I knew it would be terrible for my mental—and possibly, physical—health.

He took in the blush still evident on my cheeks. Then, his eyes flicked to the side, to my date, and narrowed.

That was when I noticed the woman beside him. Aleksandra Popova was even more beautiful in person, in a classy red evening dress and gold heels. She would be the perfect pin-up model. I’d even bet, behind closed doors, she’d embody the fifties housewife by serving her husband a glass of cognac on a silver platter, all while cooking a turkey and wearing an apron.

Her hand was on his arm.

I looked away, fighting off a sudden bout of heartburn. I frowned. I hadn’t even eaten much today while trying to fit into this dress. It seemed my health was always in question whenever Christian was present. That should be enough warning to stay away.

“Sorry to break it to you like this, Val, but it looks like your pockets are going to be much lighter soon.”

She glanced toward the door, and when she turned back around, it was with a smirk on her lips. “I’m not worried.”

Ricardo arched a brow, probably wondering how much of his money his wife had bet.

“I am warning you, though,” Val said, eyeing Aleksandra with worship sparkling in her eyes, “I’m about to fangirl really hard.”

I wasn’t sure which game this was, but I didn’t want any part of it.

While Christian usually regarded me with indifference or even distaste in public since the moment I’d met him, tonight, his stare couldn’t feel further from either.

Our gazes had caught more than once from across the club, but his remained even after I looked away. The heat of it burned through my skin like fire. His girlfriend stood by his side for goodness’ sake, yet every time he looked at me, he might as well have announced to the room we’d had unprotected, adulterous sex.

I’d been so sure that was something he wouldn’t tell a single soul, considering he’d always looked down on me like I was beneath him while parading one of his perfect blondes around. Regardless, I couldn’t afford to let anyone know we’d been together—Dick knowing was bad enough—because it would take little to deduce it had happened when I was married. And, dammit, that sin should stay between me and the Lord.

He was playing a game.

And I didn’t want to play.

So, I did what anyone would do: I refused to engage him and, instead, feigned complete enrapturement in my date. But it was all a facade. The minute Christian stepped in the room, I couldn’t focus on anything besides where he stood. The fact he had a hand on Aleksandra’s waist. The way it made my blood heat with something itchy and frustrating.

Valentina was hogging his date’s attention, fawning over her in a way that made me slightly nauseous. Had he slept with her? Did he kiss her? I looked into my drink with a frown, wondering what cocktail Val had brought me. Someone had been too heavy-handed with the bitters.

I was feeling a little salty when Val dragged me over to meet Aleksandra, so, naturally, in the act of balancing my attitude, my voice ended up an octave too sweet when I told the model she and Christian made a lovely couple.

I saw his gaze narrow out of the corner of my eye.

“Well, thank you,” she purred in a feminine Russian accent. “I must confess, you have the loveliest dress in the room.”

“I’m flattered you think so, though I’m sure some people would say otherwise.” I had the urge to flutter my eyelashes at Christian, but instead, chose to pretend he didn’t exist.

I didn’t even have to look at him to know he didn’t like it. He was twisting his watch on his wrist, once, twice, three times.

“Some people don’t know what they’re talking about. Your necklace—” She stepped closer to lift it to the light. “Isn’t it just . . . picturesque, Christian?”

“Indeed,” he said dryly.

“Where did you get it?” She blinked at me in a curious way, but there was something sharp like claws behind her eyes.

I tugged it from her grasp with a sugary smile. “Oh, just a little vintage shop in Rome. My first husband bought it for me.” I drew my finger down the charm like it was something special to me. In reality, I’d almost put it in my Salvation Army donation last month.

“How sweet,” she cooed. “First husbands are always so sentimental.”

“Oh? Have you had one?” I tilted my head.

Valentina watched the scene with fascination.

“Oh, no. I can just imagine—first lovers, first husbands. It’s the same thing, no?”

“I wouldn’t know. Unfortunately, mine were both the same.”

“Shame.” She pouted. “I guess I shall have to let you know.” I watched her fingers wrap around Christian’s arm.

“That would be incredibly enlightening.” I tossed back my drink and crunched an ice cube with more gusto than necessary.

“Okay,” Val drawled. “Gianna, why don’t we freshen up our drinks?”

We said our sickly-sweet goodbyes, and I managed to avoid Christian’s gaze, even though I could feel it on me like a rash.

“That was . . . wow,” Valentina said as we reached the bar.

“She’s nice.”

Val laughed. “You’re so out of touch with reality.”

“I need a drink. And this time, hold the bitters,” I told her.

“Honey, that’s a Moscow Mule. There isn’t any bitters.”

“Well, something’s bitter.”

“Yes, something is.” She eyed me meaningfully and then tossed back a shot that was placed in front of her. I followed suit and enjoyed the burn in my throat. I hadn’t planned to drink tonight, but I also hadn’t expected to feel inadequate in Aleksandra’s leggy, six-foot-tall shadow.

“Let’s dance,” I announced.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

She grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the dance floor. We found a spot in the crowd and moved with the bodies, pressing our backs together and rolling our hips. Maybe it was due to my lack of modesty, or maybe it was for pure attention, but I loved to dance with an audience. And right now, there were a lot of male eyes pointed in our direction. Each one lit a spark inside me, slowing, sensualizing, each roll of my hips, the glide of my hands in my hair.

The fact I wouldn’t let myself look at Christian made the touch of his gaze more intense. Each one sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. Set a fire in my blood as a drop of sweat dripped down my back.

Out of breath, we reached the men at our table and fell into our seats.

Van moved in to whisper in my ear, his voice deep and raw, “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”

I leaned away shyly, a stupid blush rising to my cheeks. “Yes.”

He laughed at my bold response.

My gaze flicked up and caught on Christian. He leaned against the bar, with Aleksandra and Elena in conversation beside him. He wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was directed at Van, and it was dark enough I could feel the coldness on my skin. He took a sip from his glass, his expression filling with something volatile and conflicted before he looked away.

Uncertainty ran through me.

If he ruined another relationship for me, I’d scream.

We talked for an hour until I felt Mother Nature’s call. I weaved through the crowd and walked upstairs, past the bouncer Ronny who nodded at me, toward the bathrooms on the VIP floor. They were always less busy than the ones downstairs.

I pushed the door open and almost turned straight back around to brave the bathroom line downstairs, because Aleksandra stood at the sink washing her hands. Her cat-eyed gaze flicked to me, and I couldn’t back out now. I used the restroom, and when I exited the stall, she was still at the mirror, applying lipstick.

We stood side-by-side at the sink.

She brushed some powder on her cheeks. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that dress.”

The truth always comes out in the bathroom, doesn’t it?

I reached into my bra for my lip gloss. “Confidence comes with time. I’m sure you’ll get there someday.”

She was unfazed. “You vant him.”

I sighed. We were actually going there.

“I had him. I don’t care for a repeat.”

“You lie.”

I applied a liberal coat of lip gloss. “You have nothing to worry about. Christian and I will never be a thing.”

“Now, that I believe. You are not what he needs.”

I felt an odd pang in my chest.

I raised a brow. “You know him so well?”

“He is not so complicated. He likes his privacy and his things the way he likes them. I won’t demand more from him, and neither will he from me.”

How could she not be curious? I didn’t even like him and still wanted to know everything about him. In truth, I was nosy beyond belief. I’d never be happy with a superficial relationship with him—the only thing I was sure he was capable of. We’d never work. But, for some reason, hearing that out in the open made me slightly uneasy.

She snapped her compact closed. “We will marry, and you won’t get in the way.”

“I don’t have any designs on him.”

“Good.” She headed to leave.

There was something on my mind I hadn’t been able to get rid of.

“Kak moya,” I said, smoothing the gloss on my lips and watching her in the mirror. “What does it mean?”

She stopped at the door, assessing me with a look.

“It means, like mine.”