Page 96 of Mafia Obsession

The cook nods immediately.

Ares pulls a small notepad and a pen from a counter drawer and presses them into my hand. “Write down your food and meal preferences,” he instructs. “If you crave something at two in the morning, it will appear.”

“That’s not necessary,” I squeak, then watch as he heads for the front door. “Where are you going?”

“This isnotSantorini as you pointed out.” He slips on his suit jacket. “You know I work long and late hours. Each night, I go to Club Wicked. I’m heading there now. I’ll be home late.”

A moment of clarity hits me. “My apartment.”

“I will have Daria terminate your lease.”

“I need to go there. There are…things there. Things that mean something to me.”

Ares blinks, cheek twitching. The guy is juggling knives dealing with me. He snaps his fingers. “Pride. You are to retrieve whatever Lourdes needs from her apartment.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Give me your key?” Ares holds out his hand to me.

“I didn’t take it.” I shake my head. “We left so suddenly.”

Ares breathes steadily and looks back at Pride. “Stake out her apartment. We cleaned up those bodies. The apartment should be secure. There was a key over the door frame. Use it to get in. Or figure something else out.”

He bends down and kisses me on my forehead. Then he leaves without another word, oblivious to how I’m taking all of this. Lust, Gluttony, and Sloth fall into step behind him while I’m standing here dumbfounded with a piece of paper in my hand to make a grocery list.

Chapter 36

Ares

After my four-a.m. workout, dripping with sweat, muscles tense, and cock throbbing, I watch Lourdes sleep in my bed.

In the few days that we’ve been home, she’s been distant. Each night when I return from Club Wicked, she’s facing away from my side.

But I don’t think she’s asleep. God, I want her so much. It’s driving me mad.

I masturbate in the showeragain, get dressed, and watch her some more until I feel the guards outside my bedroom waiting for me.

In my Wall Street office, I step away from irritating reports to put my head down and get my shit together.

Santorini lingers like heat beneath my skin.

I didn’t intend to let Lourdes see that version of me. The island is a weakness. New York is not. Here, I’m precise, and I never hesitate.

But I can’t fucking work.

“Good morning.” Daria’s voice lifts my head up.

“Sinclair’s body.” I don’t have time to waste on pleasantries right now. “Where is it?”

The scumbag had indeed found Quinlan, but the assassin was ready. He killed Lourdes’s husband in cold blood in his apartment. Only, that neighbor of his witnessed the whole thing. I had to stick around an extra day to question her myself to make sure she’d stay loyal.

“Morgue,” Daria says and then tells me she had to wrestle the body from Quinlan’s tracker duo, who Rhys called to clean up the mess.

David Sinclair can’t just vanish. He left behind a wife I want to marry, and I need his death to be official.

“The coroner signed off,” Daria adds. “The death certificate will be filed this morning.”

“As soon as possible, prepare a marriage license for Lourdes and me.”