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EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Eager to learn what the future holds forLori and Marco?
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AFTERWORD
Thank you for reading my novel,Unholy Obsession. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to write a review HERE?
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DO YOU WANT MORE ROMANCE?
Turn on the next page to read the first chapters of my latest best-selling novel:Broken Bishop
When a vicious mobster ordered me to spy on his rival, I had no choice. It was the only way to save my father. My mission was clear: find Liam Mullen and seduce him. But I didn’t know I had found him already. More than that...I had fallen in love with the dangerous man I was supposed to kill.
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BROKEN BISHOP
CHAPTERONE
Anna
As I step out onto the curb, I suck in a deep breath and try my best to enjoy the spring air. It sounds dramatic, but when you step onto the Robinson estate you never know whether you’ll see the light of day again. Fresh-cut grass, the faint aroma of lilacs and hydrangeas, and a trace of exhaust from the interstate. Everywhere you look, there is a reminder of destruction disguised as progress. Even when I’m trying to accept my potential end—my mortality—it doesn’t matter.
I haven’t been to the Robinson estate in six years, but it is always too soon to see the place again. It is a modern, sophisticated-looking lion’s den. Blood-thirsty beasts that have no regard for what the society at large has to say, let alone their rules, prowl within those walls. And through the faults of my loving, but harebrained father… it seems as though I’m tied to them forever.
As I walk to the front door, I do everything in my power to calm myself down. The last thing you want to show in front of a mob boss is fear. They can smell it like sharks can smell blood in the water; and Andrey Robinson is absolutely no exception. If he senses fear, he will twist, mangle, and manipulate it just for the hell of it—not to mention his own personal gain.
Deep breaths. I need to take deep breaths and focus on maintaining my composure. I’ll give him nothing to go on, not even an inkling of emotion. No anger, no sadness,and never fear.
I don’t even have to knock on the door; it opens right when I approach. A false sense of security dares to fall over me at the sight of an older woman in a maid’s uniform, with a matching gray tunic and pants. The only splash of color is the pale pink turtleneck she’s wearing underneath. She’s meant to make the unexpecting feel safe, as though visitors aren’t walking into a potential death trap.
“Good afternoon, Miss White,” she greets so cheerfully that my heart longs to warm at the sound. “Come on in.”
She guides me inside and shuts the door behind me. I try my best not to stare, but my mind longs to torment itself, wondering whether or not she is involved with the family. A level of comfort shows in her body language, so I’m guessing she’s worked here for quite some time. Meaning she’s had to have seen quite a bit, right? Hell, why do I care?
Because I’m trying to think of anything that isn’t centered around guessing why the hell I have been called here.
She leads me to the base of the stairs and gestures for me to walk ahead of her. I suppose she doesn’t trust me to trail behind, knowing I could sneak away and end up somewhere they don’t want me to. Without comment, I lead the way. I hate the way my steps sound on the metal, a hollow pang that reminds me too much of the horror movies I watched in my youth. I’m only twenty-two, I should still be ‘in my youth’. Who stays young in a life like this? The person I once was— the bubbly, excitable girl— had died. Getting kidnapped, being treated like nothing more than a pawn in a game I didn’t know I was playing… Well, it changed things.
My father getting arrested cemented those changes for me. I needed to grow up fast, so I did.
We walk down a long, stark white hallway, and I pause right before the only open door. I give her one last look, as though my fate would reveal itself in the fine lines on her face. If she knows whether this meeting will bring me to my end, she isn’t showing an ounce of it. Would that make her cruel, or merciful? Knowing I’ve been staring too long, I nod once and start up the stairs.
I step into view of the open door, and I can hardly think around the sound of my heart beating erratically in my ears. Looking within, I see a tall, older man with salt and pepper hair. He’s leaning against the front of an extravagant, massive, wooden desk. The piece of antique furniture feels out of place with the starkly modern and industrial-styled estate. The wood is warm, handcrafted with care, and inviting—nothing like Andrey Robinson.
Andrey manages to smoke a cigar in an intimidating manner. His eyesconstricted before he even met mine. He blows smoke in my direction and flicks theashes around with reckless abandon. He doesn't care about anything in the room or the mess he'll make. Everything in there is pocket change, and like everything else in his life, he has someone to clean up thosemesses.
