An Illicit Obsession
When he sat at the head of the table, dressed in a fitted black shirt and pants, he looked like Hades himself, sucking the oxygen from the room.
I dared a single glance at him, and he caught me. The corner of his lips curled slightly as he ate. I looked away swiftly.
The moment dinner ended, I excused myself at the first opportunity. I wandered to the back garden of the beach house, finally able to breathe, though my thoughts were still tangled. Leaning against the wall, I lit a cigarette, placing it between my lips just as I heard footsteps—two sets, stopping a few feet away, where they couldn’t see me. I already suspected the purpose of this so-called trip with my father’s mafia friend, bu
Bab Populer