Page 34 of The Obsession
“That would be nice,” I reply automatically, even though I’m not sure if I mean it. Things are already too complicated.
It would be nice to have a friend, though. Someone I could talk to, someone I could actually trust. I lost touch with all the girls I grew up with when I moved away, and I never managed to make any lasting friendships in Queensland.
It was an awkward time for me with my parents’ split, and I’ve always been quiet and reserved. It didn’t help that the girls at my new school seemed to dislike me from the very first day. They never really gave me a chance.
As soon as Lucia turns to leave, I head towards the mobile kitchen, scanning the crowd for Massimo. I don’t want to go home—not to Mick—but I can’t stay here either.
Chapter 13
Dominic
Islip away from the table after the cake has been cut, heading outside and around the back of the marquee. Lil’ Peach is living her best life with the other kids on the dance floor, and seeing her so carefree and happy, busting a move like it’s nobody’s business, isn’t even enough to clear the fog in my head.
I know I can leave her unsupervised with these people, and she’d be safe. I was hesitant about entering this life, but I love the sense of family this group brings us both.
When Mrs B had a nasty fall last year and ended up in full-time care, I was forced to look for someone new to watch Peach, but I’ve yet to find anyone who isn’t terrified at the thought of working for me, or someone who meets my high standards.
Lucia De Luca, Romeo’s wife, has stepped in to fill the void temporarily, but she has her own baby to look after now, so she won’t be able to do it forever.
When I reach the food prep area, my eyes scan over the staff members in view, and I can’t see Emily anywhere. Where the fuck is she? My pulse kicks up a notch as I become slightly panicked.
Emily helped serve the first two courses, but I haven’t seen her since. She’s been avoiding me like the plague, despite my eyes following her every move. To my annoyance, she didn’t bother to look my way once.
I spot the chef from La Riviera inside the sleek industrial mobile kitchen. I run my hand over my hair as I move in his direction. Fuck, what’s his name again? I’m pretty sure it starts with an M, but I’m not about to guess and come off looking like a dick, especially since I’ve met him numerous times when I’ve dined with theFamiglia.
He usually comes out of the kitchen at the end of our meal to make sure Dante’s satisfied with the food and service. I’m pretty sure no one could fault his food; it’s top-notch. We eat like fucking kings when we’re there.
I climb the two metal stairs and stick my head inside the van. “Hey, mate,” I say, feeling like an idiot for even seeking her out, but my concern outweighs my pride. “I’m looking for Emily. Do you know where I can find her?”
I’m not even sure what I’m going to say when I find her, but I can’t leave things like this. The moment I saw that bruise under her eye, I had to restrain myself from getting in the car and driving to her house to finish that cunt off once and for all.
My gut tells me he’s the one responsible, but until I have confirmation he’s the one hurting her, I can’t do a thing. Nothing is going to save that fucker if I do, though, not even Emily.
“Dominic,” he says, wiping his hand on his apron as he comes towards the doorway and offers it to me. The fact he remembers my name makes me feel even worse. I’m good with faces, but names, not so much.
“Emily wasn’t feeling the best, so she left after the meal service.”
“Oh.”
“Have you got a minute to chat? Somewhere more private?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“Let’s go around back.”
I step down the two stairs and move aside, waiting for him to lead the way.
As I follow, my eyes wander over the view behind the property. It’s breathtaking out here. I’d love for Peach to have a place like this to grow up in one day. She loves coming here when Lucia’s looking after her.
He stops a few metres from the van, and I do the same, shoving my hands deep into my trouser pockets.
“I’m guessing you’ve noticed the marks on her,” he says. I nod, and that familiar anger stirs again. “I’m not sure what relationship you two have, but I see how she is with you at La Riviera. She doesn’t treat the other diners the way she does you.”
Why that warms something in me, I can’t say.
I pull one hand from my pocket and rub the back of my neck. “I only know her from the restaurant,” I admit. “But those marks make me livid. Do you know how she gets them? Is it that guy she’s living with?”
He gives me a strange look, probably wondering how I know so much when I’ve just admitted we’re basically strangers outside of the restaurant.
