My Ruthless Obsession (Between the Sheets #4)
1. Marco
1
MARCO
T he stench of sweat and fear hangs heavy in the air as I watch one of my enforcers work Henry over. His pathetic cries for mercy bounce off the cold, concrete walls like a sick symphony, making me clench my jaw in distaste. This piece of shit has been a thorn in my side for far too long.
“Please, Marco,” he gasps between pained sobs. “I can pay you back! I swear!”
His disheveled appearance is a testament to the chaos his gambling addiction has wreaked on his life. His once-proud face now marred by bruises and desperation, his hair a greasy, unkempt mess. The cheap, rumpled shirt clinging to his husky frame, reveals a paunch that’s grown from years of excess consumption. His frantic eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of mercy, but there’s none to be found.
“Enough!” I bark.
Dante stops the assault before stepping back to give me space. I stride forward, my polished shoes clicking ominously on the dirty floor.
“Look at you, Henry. You’re a fucking mess,” I sneer, taking in his pathetic form as he struggles to remain upright in the chair. “You really think I believe you can pay back what you owe me?”
“Please, Marco,” he whimpers, tears streaming down his battered face. “I just need more time.”
“Time?” I echo, my voice dripping with disdain. “You’ve had plenty of fucking time, and all you’ve done is dig yourself deeper into debt. You’re a liability, and I don’t tolerate liabilities in my business.”
His eyes widen, his lips trembling as he formulates a response. “I… I-I have something else,” he stammers. “S-s-something better than money.”
My curiosity is piqued despite myself. “And what the fuck would that be?”
“Lyla. My daughter. S-s-she’s beautiful and young, and she’ll do anything you want.”
Lyla.
Her name is like a drug coursing through my veins. I clench my teeth, barely able to contain my anger at the audacity of this man offering his own flesh and blood to settle his debts.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Henry?” I spit. “You’d sell out your own daughter to save your worthless skin?”
“Please, Marco,” he pleads, desperation clawing at every word. “She’s all I’ve got left. But you can have her. She won’t be any trouble. I promise.”
My mind races with images of Lyla’s angelic face—those haunting blue eyes and delicate features—threatening to consume me. I’ve wanted her for so damn long, but not like this. Not as payment for her father’s sins. The desire, the obsession, they gnaw at me like a feral animal. I could take her, make her mine, and no one would ever know the truth about her father’s fate.
The disgust churns in my stomach, a violent storm of rage and lust. I can’t believe this pitiful excuse for a man. My fists clench at my sides, the knuckles turning white with the effort it takes to keep me from smashing Henry’s face in right here and now.
The room falls silent around us, my men watching and waiting for my response. I take a deliberate step closer to him, my voice dropping to a menacing whisper that fills the space between us. “Did you really think I’d just accept your fucking daughter as payment, you fucking coward?”
He flinches, his eyes darting between me and the men nearby. I can see the fear in his gaze, the realization that he’s crossed a line he can never uncross. With a swift, decisive motion, I signal to Dante to continue the beating.
“Make it hurt,” I growl, the anger simmering beneath my calm exterior.
A sinister smirk appears on Dante’s face before the sounds of violence fill the room once more, the sickening crunch of fists connecting with flesh echoing off the walls. Each blow underscores the brutality of the world I’ve built, the power I wield over all these people.
Blood spatters on the floor, a crimson testament to the violence taking place in this shadowy back room. Henry’s cries grow weaker, his eyes pleading for mercy as I watch with detached boredom.
“Marco, please. I’m sorry. I’ll find another way,” he begs.
It’s too late for apologies. The world has no use for a man like him. The knife feels cold and heavy in my hand as I step out of the shadows and slice through the tender flesh of Henry’s throat, putting an end to his misery. I stare into his eyes as life drains from them, yet I feel nothing but satisfaction when his body slumps to the floor.
“Get rid of him,” I order, turning to my men. Their faces remain expressionless, unfazed by the execution they’ve just witnessed. They’ve seen worse, and so have I. “Paulie.” My gaze settles on my underboss. “Gather everything you can on Lyla Adams. And I mean everything. But keep it discreet.”
“Understood, boss.” His loyalty has never been questioned, and I trust him to handle this matter with the utmost care.
“Good. Get it done,” I say, pausing for a moment to collect myself. “It’ll take a few days and she won’t come easily, but she will be mine.”
I stride out of the dingy room, leaving the grisly result of my actions behind me. The metallic scent of blood lingers in the air, but I can’t afford to dwell on it now. My mind is consumed by thoughts of Lyla, her enchanting eyes and captivating beauty becoming a compulsion that grows stronger with every heartbeat.
“Back to business,” I mutter as I make my way through my underground casino, the sounds of gambling and hushed conversations filling the space. I slip back into the cultivated persona I display around others, wearing my mask of indifference as I navigate this perilous world of crooks and thieves with practiced precision.
“Mr. Vanetti, everything alright?” one of my men asks, concern flickering across his face as he takes in my tense expression.
“Fine,” I snap, my voice hinting at the chaos inside me. “Just handle things here. I have somewhere I need to be.”
He replies with a curt nod before disappearing into the crowd, leaving me to my thoughts.
I push open the steel doors leading up to the street level, the noise of the city engulfing me as I step out into the night. The die is cast, and there’s no turning back now. All that remains is to claim my prize… whether she’s willing to accept it or not.