Sweet Obsession: Ruthless Games #1

by Rose, Callie

  Something shifts behind his mesmerizing eyes as he speaks, and I feel heat bloom inside my chest. For a moment, it seems more like he’s talking about himself rather than this man, Luca.

  “You said was married. What happened to her?” I murmur.

  “She died five years after they were married.” He catches the look on my face and shakes his head. “Not violently. I’m not sure the city would’ve survived his wrath if that was the case. She wasn’t murdered. She got an aggressive form of cancer, and not even all of his power and wealth could save her. She was gone within six months of the diagnosis.”

  “Someone tried to unseat him right after that,” Ryland interjects, and I glance over at him. “It was the closest anyone ever got. Her loss just about wrecked him.”

  “He never remarried.” Marcus shrugs. “She was it for him. All he ever wanted.”

  My chest squeezes. I don’t know this man they’re talking about at all, and given how much power he’s consolidated, he has to be hardened and ruthless. But my heart aches for him a little anyway. That kind of devotion? The kind of unending loyalty that borders on obsession?

  I think I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of those kinds of emotions, and although it’s slightly terrifying, there’s something exhilarating about it too.

  “They never had children,” Theo says, picking up the thread of the conversation as if all three men are speaking from one shared brain. “And Luca has never taken a mistress that anyone knows of. He has no heir.”

  “He plans to step down at some point.” Marcus meets my gaze, and I lean forward, hanging on to his words. “Since he has no children of his own, he has no one to succeed him. No one to leave his empire to.”

  “So he handpicked twelve of the most powerful families in the city, and each of them volunteered one of their heirs as a possible successor for Luca,” Ryland says, bitterness coating his voice.

  My eyebrows fly up as the dots finally begin to connect and I realize why they’re telling me this. “You? All three of you?”

  Marcus nods. “And Carson and Dominic, among others.”

  “So you’ve all been put forward as possible successors for the most powerful man in the city, and that’s why Carson doesn’t like you.”

  “Not quite.” Theo pulls a face. “We weren’t just put forth for Luca’s consideration, and one day he’ll pick one of us and that’s that. He wanted to make sure whoever takes his place will actually be able to keep it, just like he has for so long. So he set up a game.”

  “A game?” My stomach drops a little at the way he says the word. “What does that mean?”

  “It means every one of the twelve heirs he chose was set in competition with the others.” Marcus’s voice is hard. “It ends when one person has either eliminated or gained the support of all the others.”

  A chill rushes through me. “Eliminated, like… killed?”

  “Yeah.” Theo lets out a humorless laugh. “But Luca knew it would just be a bloodbath if he left it at that. So he set rules. We’re only allowed to openly attack each other or use violence of any kind during a seventy-two-hour period once a year. During the game.”

  I blanch. What the actual fuck? That’s insane.

  But so many things make sense now that didn’t before. That tense standoff in the hall between the guys and Carson, and the way he taunted them about getting their chance to come after him soon. The strange desperation in Marcus’s touch when he dragged me into the bathroom at Duke’s before telling me he had to go away for the weekend.

  For three days.

  Seventy-two hours.

  “That’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?” I ask, my voice paper-thin. “The game. That’s why Carson was trying to lure you out, to use me as bait. Because he’s allowed to kill you now.”

  “Yeah.” Theo pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at the screen. “For the next… five hours and forty-two minutes.”

  I don’t even know how to respond to that. I don’t know how to process any of this.

  “Is that what this was?” My fingers absently reach up to brush against the scar tissue on my chest, remembering the feel of bullets tearing through my skin. “A game?”

  Marcus swallows, his jaw clenching. “Yes.”

  Goose bumps creep over my skin. “And the man you killed? Devin. He was part of the game too?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you did kill him in cold blood.”

  He doesn’t answer, but his silence says enough.

  Oh, fuck. I wrap my arm around myself, laying my damaged one over it as if that will somehow make a strong enough barrier to keep the horror out.

  “None of this is in cold blood, Rose,” Theo says quietly. “For seventy-two hours, it’s kill or be killed, and that’s all there is to it. You hesitate, you die. You let your guard down, you die. Marcus may have killed Devin, but I guarantee you Devin would’ve killed him first if he’d gotten the chance.”

  That hardly eases the heavy pounding of my heart. I don’t know what the hell I expected the men to say when they agreed to explain this all to me, but it sure as fuck wasn’t this.

  “How long?” I glance around at their tense faces. “How many games have there been?”

  “It started when we were eighteen,” Ryland says. “So, four years.”

  “How many have died?”

  “Three.” Marcus is watching me carefully, and when I turn to look at him, I feel like an abyss has opened up between us—a cavernous gap filled with all the things I didn’t know about him until today. “Devin Brooks, Xavier Holt, and Benjamin Windsor.”

  Which leaves nine players left. How many more years will this go on? How many more people will die before one person consolidates power?

  “None of us asked for this.” Theo speaks again, and I recognize the bitterness in his voice. It’s always tinged his tone when he talks about his family, and I never knew why. “None of us wanted it. Our parents volunteered us. Luca accepted. And that was that.”

  “But I don’t…” I shake my head, trying to rattle my thoughts loose. They’re stuck in a logjam on my tongue, and I can’t get all my questions out at once. “I don’t get it. How can they make you do this? You said this seventy-two hour period is when you can try to kill people if you want. But you don’t have to. Can’t you just hide out? Refuse to play?”

  Marcus stands up, striding across the living room. “Yes. We could.” He turns to look at me, his gaze hard. “But a show of weakness like that can be fucking deadly. That’s what Xavier did. For two years in a row. And on the third year, four other players teamed up and went after him. Found where he was hiding and killed him on the spot.”

  “There is no refusing to play.” Theo shakes his head.

  “There are only three ways out,” Ryland adds quietly. “You either die, hand over your life and allegiance to someone else… or you win.”

  Chapter 23

  My gaze flicks up to meet Ryland’s as his words settle over me.

  I fucking get it now. Why he was so damn desperate to keep me out of their lives. I’ve already come too close to the game once, when I stepped between Marcus and the three bullets meant for his body. And now I’ve been dragged into it again, a pawn on a chessboard I didn’t even know existed.

  There are still so many questions I need answers to, but the one that keeps rising to the top of my mind is, what now?

  Now I know. Now I see the full picture, and I understand what they’ve been hiding from me all this time. Why their lives are the way they are.

  But what do I do with that?

  What does it mean?

  Where do we go from here?

  Jesus. Rich people are so fucked up.

  It’s not just the wealthy, I know that. And it’s not just about money. More than that, it’s about power—and the messed up things people will do to get it.

  “So, are you going to go after Carson, then?” I ask, digging my fingernails into the fabric of m
y jeans. My pants are scuffed and scraped, marred with streaks of dirt and a smear of blood. “You said it’s worse to just sit it out and wait.”

  “No.” Marcus shoves his hands into his pockets, his shoulders going rigid. “Under ordinary circumstances, yeah, that’s true. But right now, the only fucking strategy we have is to keep you safe. This isn’t a game of offense anymore. It’s a game of defense.”

  The hard knot in my stomach loosens a little at his words, and at the vehemence in his voice. But I still can’t hold his gaze for long. Somehow, I feel more betrayed by him than by the other two, more hurt by the lies and secrets.

  Ryland has been part of this from the start, but at least he tried to stop it. And Theo… I don’t know. I don’t feel like he hid as much from me as Marcus did. Like he lied as profoundly.

  “So we’ll stay here?” I switch my focus to Theo and Ryland, trying to pretend I don’t notice the look of pain that flashes across Marcus’s face. “For, what, six more hours? Where are we, anyway?”

  “An old rental house on the south side of the city,” Ryland tells me. “I keep it rented under a fake name. We’ve got five of them spread around Halston, in case we need a place to lie low for a while.”

  “But we can’t stay here,” Theo adds, and the muscles in my back that were beginning to relax slightly go tense again. “It’s too risky. We try to keep these rental units off the books, but they’re not untraceable. Carson’s strategic, but he’s also a vindictive little bitch. It won’t matter that his original plan went sideways; he’s not gonna go after any of the other players until he takes his shot at us. And he’s running out of time. I’m sure he’s looking for us right now.”

  My pulse picks up, and I glance toward the window, where the curtains are drawn. “How long have we been here?”

  “Almost seven hours. We need to get out of here soon. The longer we wait, the more time he has to prepare his next move.”

  “And maybe to gather more allies.” Marcus curls his lip, looking like he wants to spit on the floor. “He’s already got that fuckwad Dominic in an alliance, doing his dirty work for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to get Gabriel or Asher on his side too. Convince them that taking out all three of us will clear the playing field and give them an advantage next year.”

  I don’t have any clue who these people are that he’s talking about, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. I know they all want to kill us, and that’s enough.

  “All right.” I stand up. We might not actually be heading out right this second, but I can’t sit still anymore. Nerves are burning a hole in my stomach, and it feels like my entire body is vibrating. “Then where do we go?”

  “That’s the fucking problem.” Theo stands up too, stepping closer to me. He stops short of actually touching me, but I can feel his body heat across the small space that separates us. Gently, he brushes a tangled lock of hair behind my ear. “Marcus is right that we need to play defense. But we have to figure out a good way to do that. Carson is after us—and he’s already taken you once. Leaving you behind isn’t safe, but keeping you with us is dangerous too.”

  “She stays with us.” Marcus’s voice is hard.

  I whip my head toward him, anger rising up again that he’s letting his obsession rule his judgement—that he’s willing to drag me toward death just so he won’t ever have to let me go.

  But before I can say anything, Ryland speaks from the couch.

  “He’s right. It’s a risk either way, and I fucking hate that. But if it comes down to two shitty options, I pick the one where we’re there to protect her if shit goes down. I’m not letting Carson touch her again.”

  “Yeah. Agreed.” Theo’s voice is serious and low. His fingertips brush my arm as he adds, “Never again.”

  The timbre of his voice makes my heart quicken, and I turn my head back to face him slowly, taking in the bandage that covers his right upper arm. He changed his shirt, ditching the bloodstained one, but I remember the bright swath of red that covered his arm earlier.

  I reach up to touch the bandage, and he jerks slightly, but I don’t think it’s from pain. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

  “Yeah.” His crooked smile is gentle. “Just grazed me. I don’t even need stitches.”

  I bite my lip to hide my grimace. There is no “just” when it comes to bullets, as far as I’m concerned. There’s only “dead” and “not dead,” and I’m grateful as fuck that he still falls into the second category. I don’t say any of that though, because I’m not sure I’m ready to admit to these men how much I still care about them, despite everything.

  Maybe I’m not even ready to admit it to myself.

  “I know a place where we can hide out,” Ryland says. “Down by the warehouse district. It’s nowhere near any of our safe houses, so Carson will have a harder time tracking us down there. I say we gear up, head out, and hole up.”

  My gaze shifts to him briefly, my brows pulling together a little.

  These three men might not have chosen to play this dangerous game they’re embroiled in, but I don’t think “hide out” is a phrase they’ve probably used much before in their lives. Like Theo said, there are risks involved even in trying to lie low. But more than that, none of these guys are the types to back down from a fight.

  But that’s exactly what they’re about to do.

  They all hate Carson with a burning rage, and the countdown clock is ticking down the seconds they have left to get their vengeance on him.

  Instead of plotting revenge, though, they’re going into hiding. Standing down from a fight.

  For me.

  Strong emotions roil my stomach, but I squash them down, taking a step back from Theo.

  Don’t let yourself care for them, Ayla. Don’t let them get under your skin.

  But it’s too late for that. They’re so far under my skin I swear I can feel them inside me sometimes—little pieces of them lodged inside my heart like burrs.

  “Agreed.” Marcus nods decisively. “Let’s head out in five.”

  Ryland stands, the movement fluid and graceful. “I’ll check our ammo and weapons.”

  “I’ll check police scanners,” Theo adds, digging out his phone.

  “I’ll… put my shoes on.” My contribution sounds lame as fuck, but I’m not sure what else I could do to help.

  As everyone breaks away to deal with their respective duties, I walk quickly back toward the bedroom. My gaze snags on the bed in the middle of the room, and my mind reels as I struggle to process everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours.

  Marcus was inside me less than twelve hours ago. Theo’s lips were on mine. And Ryland was watching it all.

  That might be the most intimate thing I’ve ever done with three people.

  So why do they feel almost like strangers now?

  I scrub a hand down my face, as if I can somehow wipe my thoughts clean and start over with a fresh slate. My shoes are sitting by the edge of the bed, neatly lined up. One of the guys must’ve taken them off me while I was asleep.

  They’re simple slip-on ballet flats. Less than ideal footwear when running for one’s life, but that was the last fucking thing on my mind when I put them on yesterday.

  I slide them on and then turn to head back to the living room—but stop short when Marcus’s broad frame appears in the doorway.

  He steps into the room, resting a hand on the wall to block my path. A foot and a half of space separates us, and it feels like a mile and a fraction of an inch at the same time.

  “We okay?” he murmurs.

  My throat tightens as I swallow. “Does it matter?”

  The faintest hint of his clean, sharp scent teases my nostrils. Addictive. Familiar.

  I don’t know anymore if I hate this man or love him, if I want to push him away or pull him closer. But I also truly don’t know if it matters. I’m so tangled up in him that I feel like I’d lose much more than a limb if I tried to tear myself away now.
/>   I remember thinking once that there would be no end to this thing between us except death.

  That may be far more true than I realized.

  Marcus’s eyes narrow. “Of course it matters.”

  “Will it change anything?” There’s a sharp bite to my words.

  His lips press together. He looks almost angry, but I can’t tell if the anger is directed inward or outward. He drops his hand from the wall and takes a step forward, closing the gap between us. His arm loops around my back, and my breasts brush against his torso as he lowers his face to my neck and draws in a deep lungful of air.

  He’s always doing this. Breathing me in like I’m his oxygen.

  My skin prickles and my heart jumps in my chest, my body reacting to his touch like it always does.

  But I force my arms to remain by my sides, clenching my hand as I resist the urge to reach for him.

  I can’t. I can’t let myself.

  “Let’s roll out!” Ryland calls from the living room, and Marcus’s fingers flex, digging into my back for a moment.

  When he lifts his head, his jaw is set as his eyes bounce between mine. “This conversation isn’t over, angel.”

  I don’t answer. I just follow him out to the living room, where Ryland and Theo are already standing by the door. I can tell they’re both more heavily armed than they were before. Ryland hands a gun to Marcus, and all three of them surround me like a trio of secret service agents as we slip out of the house.

  It’s early morning, and the bright sunshine and faint chirping of birds seem strange, at odds with the heavy pounding of my heart.

  The tranquil calm around us seems threatening somehow, and I shift nervously from foot to foot as Marcus and Ryland quickly uncover the car and drop the tarp on the ground. We pile inside, in roughly the same configuration we were in yesterday—Ryland behind the wheel, Marcus beside him, and Theo in the back with me.

  Ryland starts the car up and turns around, heading back down a long driveway. I’m able to take in our surroundings much more clearly today, and I realize we’re in a remote part of the city, where the properties are spaced farther apart. That’s probably exactly why they picked this location for one of their safe houses.