Tattered obsession tatte.., p.1
Tattered Obsession (Tattered Obsession Series), page 1
The King Brother Series
Boys of King Academy Series
Strip For me
Consequence
Try to Ruin Me
Free Novella—
Resisting Them
Copyright
Tattered Obsession © 2023 Louise Rose
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and formed by this author’s imagination. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Description
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Description
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Description
Prologue
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Epilogue
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Description
I’m promised to the head of the Emmerico family, but I want his brother…
My duty in life is to marry. For my family. For the safety only a marriage could bring, but weeks before my wedding, I meet a stranger in a club. I do something reckless for once in my life and kiss the most gorgeous man in the room.
I can’t forget his face. His lips. Everything about him is pressed into my memory.
When I’m standing at the altar in my sparkling white dress, my groom introduces me to his brother. The same man I kissed only weeks ago and his smirk tells me he always knew who I was.
I try to forget him—it doesn’t work because he wants me to remember.
I try to love my new husband—that fails too, because he is cruel and his brother protects me.
Wanting my brother in law is forbidden, and we could tear our families apart.
But I can’t stop.
This is an arranged marriage, mafia, steamy romance with possessive males who won’t give up their girl. Recommended for mature readers only. This is Tattered Lies, Brothers and Vows.
Prologue
The surface of my bedroom window is cold against my skin as I stare out, one of the curtains tugged back just far enough to give me an unobstructed view of the sloping driveway. My breath fogs up the glass as I watch, hardly daring to blink, waiting for the telltale flash of headlights in the darkness. Although I can’t see it from here, I know Dad’s car is already parked out front, his driver waiting for the go-ahead as my father gathers his bodyguards and makes his way out from the foyer. I can almost picture him, dressed in his finest suit, his face a stone-cold mask that combines corporate charm with professional ruthlessness.
Most people would think it unusual of him to arrange his business meetings for eleven at night. But then again, most people aren’t in charge of the second-biggest crime family in London.
I hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, and my heart starts to pick up, beating a staccato rhythm as my father crunches down the gravel drive, his entourage in tow. An engine starts, and a moment later headlights pierce the darkness as the black limousine speeds down the driveway and away onto the street.
It’s showtime.
I yank the curtains shut and leap to my feet, my heart beating even faster than before. I’m already dressed to kill, in a sleek, form-fitting cocktail dress, the diamond hoops hanging from my ears already glinting in the dim light of my bedroom. I pause at the mirror to smooth my dress out for the millionth time and check my reflection. I’ve swept my chestnut hair into a loose bun that isn’t quite smooth, and I know some eye shadow would help make my green eyes pop, but there’s no time for fucking around. Not unless I want to risk one of the household staff intercepting me. I’ve spent my entire life sheltered. A year from now, I’ll be married to a man I barely know, knee-deep in the life of a mafia wife, and my duty to the alliance will overshadow everything else. I’ve got twelve precious months to live like a normal twenty-year-old, and I intend to make the most of it.
I slip out of my room and down the long corridor that leads to the front entrance. My heels click against the pristine marble tiles as I pass my older sister’s room, but Violet doesn’t emerge to give me shit for sneaking out. Sometimes, I think maybe that’s the reason my folks arranged for me to be married off first, even though I’m younger: getting rid of the problem child before finding a match for the good daughter. Not that I resent Violet for escaping the arranged marriage. I love her to bits, and I can’t shake the feeling that she wishes she were the one walking down the aisle next year, not me. I would gladly trade places with her if that were an option.
The house is silent around me, and I have to remind myself to keep moving instead of stopping to glance into the rooms on either side of me, taking in the opulence of the gilded cage where I’ve spent my entire life. I’m so nervous I nearly stumble on the way down the grand staircase, and by the time I’m out the front door, I’m half-expecting one of the guards to snipe me from the roof, thinking I’m an intruder.
But the guards are relaxed, and with good reason. People know better than to mess with the family of Andrew Dalton.
Well, most people, anyway.
I don’t dare have one of our private drivers take me into the city; instead, I call a cab once I’m safely out of view of the family estate, and then we’re speeding off toward London’s South Bank.
A call from my best friend, Callie, provides a welcome distraction from my nerves. “Vivian?”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I reply, unable to stifle a grin at the sound of her voice. “You sound out of breath.”
“That’s because I am,” she replies. “I just got off work.”
I frown. “Wait. Seriously? It’s almost eleven.”
“A couple idiots stayed until closing, and guess who got stuck organizing tomorrow’s event?” She groans. “Honestly, whoever said working at an art gallery was all cocktail parties and VIP openings was smoking something.”
“You’re lucky,” I remind her. “You get to spend all day around art. Do you know what I’d give to be able to do that?”
“Maybe we should trade,” Callie jokes. “You can run the gallery, and I’ll spend all day sitting poolside and drinking martinis. Easiest way to pay for university I’ve heard of yet.”
“Dude,” I tell her, “you know we don’t have to swap lives just so you can finish your degree. If you need help, I could ask my—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Callie cuts me off. “Not another word. You’re awfully generous, Vivian, but I’m old enough to know when I’m being used as a charity case, thank you very much.”
“Would it help if I told you it was just to stroke my own ego?”
“No,” my friend fires back, “because I know that’s not true. But will I razz you about it anyway? Absolutely.”
“One of these days I’ll wear you down, Callie,” I reply, laughing.
“I’ll hold you to that.” She sighs. “Seriously, though, Vivian, sometimes I wish I had your life.”
“Which part?” I joke. “The endless stream of dinner parties? All the drunk businessmen trying to feel me up? Or not being able to do anything without Dad’s permission?”
“Okay, well, besides all that,” Callie says after a moment’s thought. “I was thinking more in terms of the rest, you know: Fortune 500 heiress, gorgeous fiancé, already having your life all sorted out for you...”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I tell her. She really doesn’t. It’s not like I can go around telling all my friends the truth about my family’s business—not even the friends I’ve had since primary school. “And please, don’t call Lucas my fiancé. It just makes me feel weird.” I pause. “Well, weirder.”
“But it’s the truth,” Callie protests.
“Okay, new rule,” I proclaim. “No talking about Lucas at all tonight. Tonight’s a Lucas-free night. I just want to get shitfaced and make bad decisions for on
Callie laughs. “I like the way you think, Vivian. Tell you what: I’m on my way back, so give me an hour or two to spruce up and I’ll meet you at the Diamond Lounge. Don’t get too pissed without me.”
“No promises.” I laugh. “See you soon, Callie.”
By the time I get to the Diamond Lounge, it’s already half-past eleven, and the Friday night crowd is in full swing. Even after years mingling with elite society types, I’m still not used to navigating these sorts of upscale haunts. Not on my own, anyway. I can pretend to know my way around the social scene all I want, but at the end of the day, I’m still just Vivian Dalton, the sheltered daughter of a mobster, and I’m starting to think I’ll never be anyone else.
The bouncer lets me in without any trouble, hardly even looking twice at my ID, and I let out a sigh of relief when the heavy double doors close behind me, signaling my safe passage into the less-than-desirable hotbed of delectable trouble. I’m immediately hit with a wave of cool air, and I breathe in deeply, savoring the sharp scent of alcohol that hangs in the room. I’m instantly transported back to my early teens, and all the dinner parties my dad used to throw. That was when he was still trying to find a way to smooth out our relationship with the Emmerico crime family, the leader of which just so happens to be Lucas’s father. Dad was playing the long game, even then. He knew an alliance would help us put our differences aside and make both gangs infinitely more profitable... and I’ll give you three guesses which one of us is the pawn who’s going to seal the deal.
My destiny was written from the start. I was always going to marry Lucas Emmerico; it just so happens that no one ever bothered to ask me whether that was what I wanted.
I order a gin and tonic at the bar while I wait for Callie to show up. I sip it gingerly as I survey the room, doing my best to fit in with the faceless masses. Everyone in the nightclub looks their part. There are the cocky young businessmen with their Italian suits, the overly-indulged heiresses with their faces caked in designer makeup, the sassy but ultimately harmless socialites who know how to pout and know how to protest and know how to get what they want. But who am I to complain, right? I’m basically one of them.
Nonetheless, I know I need to be careful here. Even with my coming nuptials, the Emmerico’s own the Diamond Lounge, and the relationship between our families is still tenuous. Maybe, on some level, that’s why I came here: to scope out what I’m going to have to deal with once I’m the Emmerico family’s fresh-faced young mafia queen.
But still, the thought of running into Lucas here—
Before I can ponder it further, someone slides onto the bar stool next to mine. I freeze with my drink halfway to my mouth, because for a split-second my nervous mind convinces me it is Lucas. God, if he spotted me here... If he thought I was on the hunt for something other than booze...
But it’s not Lucas. It can’t be, since he’s the one my dad is meeting tonight, all the way on the other side of downtown.
That doesn’t stop me from taking a larger-than-normal sip of my drink, my hands shaking ever so slightly.
“You look like you could use something stronger than a G&T,” the man says, his voice low and husky. It takes me a moment before I realize he’s talking to me.
I turn to look at him, relaxing almost immediately. He’s not Lucas; he doesn’t have his jet-black eyes and short, cropped hair. This newcomer looks like he’s maybe thirty, but that doesn’t detract from his air of authority and strength. His clothes are expensive, if rumpled, and there’s just something about the way he carries himself that reminds me of Lucas, with that same subtle hint of darkness and danger. But that’s where the similarities end. His dark hair is longer, almost long enough to brush his collar, and even in the low light, I can make out the color of his eyes: so gray that they’re almost silver. His lean arms are already crossed on the bar, and the button-up shirt he’s wearing does little to hide the fact that he’s a wall of pure muscle... and a drop-dead gorgeous one, at that.
For a moment, I can only stare at him, but then I clear my throat, regaining some semblance of composure. “Spoken like someone who spends a lot of time in this place.”
The man chuckles, a rumbling sound that ripples through me. “Not exactly,” he says, motioning for the bartender and ordering a bourbon on the rocks. When he turns back to me, his gaze is sharp. Scrutinizing. “You?”
“Nope. First time.” I finish my drink. “But it’s nice to know I’m blending in.”
For a moment, I wonder if I’ve said too much, but the man just smiles a crooked and devastatingly handsome smile. “Believe me, you don’t blend in, kid. You stand out.”
“Kid?” I retort, raising my eyebrows. “Did you call me a kid? I just turned twenty.”
“Like I said.” He takes a sip of his whiskey, cool as a cucumber. “Kid.”
“Damn.” I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.”
“I’d go for flattered, if I were you.” The man’s eyes twinkle, that wolfish smirk still on his face. “It suits you.”
I swallow, suddenly aware of how hot my face has gotten. Is it the booze? A minute in and this guy’s already got me blushing like a ditzy schoolgirl... and some part of me is enjoying it.
Easy there, tiger, I remind myself. You’re not here to flirt with strangers. You’re here to wait for Callie.
I straighten up in my chair, turning to face him. “You’re pretty bold. You know that?”
The man shrugs his broad shoulders. “I’m just someone who knows what I want.”
My mouth drops open, and it takes everything I have not to let him see how flustered I am. “And what would that be?” I manage, crossing my arms.
The stranger leans in closer, and I catch a whiff of his cologne, a sweet, spicy scent. “I guess you’ll have to find that out for yourself,” he says in that low, rich voice.
I can only shake my head, still half-dazed by how brazen he’s being. “You’re dangerous,” I say stupidly, my head still spinning from how close he is.
“Some might say so,” the man says as he leans away, and I find myself absurdly wishing he would close the space again. “Can I get you another drink?” he asks. “I meant what I said earlier. You look too wound up for watered-down gin.”
I eye him for a moment, weighing my options. On the one hand, I know I shouldn’t be letting a strange man buy me a drink, especially in a place run by our family’s biggest rivals. But on the other, I can’t deny how appealing he is, with his rough-around-the-edges confidence and easy smirk. And I still haven’t heard a peep from Callie... “I’ll take one of those,” I respond finally, pointing to his bourbon.
The stranger leans forward, his knee grazing mine as he nods to the bartender. “You sure about this, kid?” he asks, grinning again as he turns back to me. He’s enjoying this.
“Again, not a kid,” I counter. “And no, not even a little.”
That gets a real laugh out of him, and damn if it isn’t the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “You’ve got a lot of attitude for a girl who just turned twenty,” he says, passing the bourbon to me. His hand lingers on mine just a little longer than necessary, and the jolt of electricity that shoots through me is enough to make me gasp. I suddenly realize how close he’s gotten, and the wave of temptation that crashes down on me is almost unbearable.
