BECOMING HIS OBSESSION

THALIA POV

"What a very brave way to invite a deep painful death."

The seriousness in his threat hits like a punch, my knees almost give out at the intensity of his grip on my cheeks as he presses them together

"Too soon to show weakness now," he continues in that whiskey-smooth growl, his nails digging into my skin.

Then he releases me.

"But, I've always had a weakness for brave things."

Before I can react or draw breath, his fingers clamp onto my jaw again, forcing my face up. His hands are like ice, but his eyes are lava.

He's so close I can see the faint scar cutting through his neck, covered in tattoos and the sharp, lethal edge of his jaw. He smells like expensive oud and tobacco.

I force myself to look back up at him. One of his brows is raised, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

He won't get that satisfaction.

"When a stranger needs something, the word 'please' usually comes first."

He releases my jaw, taking a precise step back, his eyes widening slightly.

"Hmmmm."

Is all he mutters and suddenly two of his men grab my shoulders.

"Let me go!"

"Am I... a stranger?

Carlos lights a cigarette with agonizing slowness,

drawling out each word like a taunt, and anxiety floods my system.

His men release me.

Does he know? No. Impossible. He never saw me that night-I was living with my grandmother across the country when it happened. I've lost the baby fat. I've sharpened my features. I've become someone else entirely.

But doubt creeps in, cold and insidious.

Instead of responding, I turn toward the door, desperate for air, space, and the ability to think clearly without his presence scrambling my thoughts.

"Leave," Carlos's lethal voice halts my step. When did he get so close?

His hot breathe fans my neck, holding my neck against the door.

His chest pressing against my back, a solid wall of muscle and threat, pinning me still.

Something warm spreads through my core and I want to vomit.

Never. Not him. Not when I'm this close

In one swift move, he turns me to face him

"Leave and you'll find out why people disappear in my presence."

He finishes then lets me go

I instantly hate myself for how weak his movements make me feel. All those years of training, and he can still subdue me easily.

"Move" Orio says but I remain still, watching Carlos's eyes rake over me, taking inventory of every curve hidden beneath my leather pants and lace top.

Searching for every angle, every vulnerability.

But he misses the gun strapped to my ankle.

His knife-edge jaw isn't the only intimidating thing about him. It's the pride in the way he carries himself, like he's ruler of us all.

"Interesting."

He breaks the stare first, turning away abruptly.

Then he seals my fate with five words:

"Get her to the table."

Orio's hand clamps onto my arm.

"I'll walk!" I shake away from his grip and he lets me.

CARLOS POV

In my years as the Don of Viper Lane, no one has dared not to fear me. Not my rivals. Not my enemies.

Not even Zara.

And I have never been more aroused in my life.

"I told you," I let my temper flare, "I. Don't. Repeat. Myself."

The temper isn't about her disobedience or lack of fear. It's about the fact that I want to watch that smart mouth form the word "please"-and mean it.

It's about the fact that I want to see her defiance crack. Watch her fair ass redden beneath my palm. Blindfold and suspend her, denying her release just for being bratty.

But I can't do that.

Instead, I watch her face cycle through emotions: defiance, anger, calculation.

She's not afraid.

Most people who face me realize their shit luck and start begging or preparing to die.

Not her. She looks like she wants to murder me instead.

Which is interesting.

Pretty doll stares at the chessboard between us, then eases back into her seat with a smile that's pure provocation.

I tilt my head, cataloging that smile. I want to swallow it whole. I want her to realize that I set the tone for any game, and a five-foot-ten woman with a mouth that's a recipe for chaos won't change that.

I lift a brow at Orio. He points his gun at her head, she goes completely still.

"Play," he orders, "or never play again."

Her lips tremble. Not at the command, but at the cold metal of the barrel pressing against her temple.

My heart peaks. Nice fear, pretty doll.

I watch her fists clench and unclench, trying to hide her panic. But the soft rise and fall of her chest is crack enough.

She's lived with monsters.

It's time she dances with one like me..

"What are you-" She stands to showcase het anger, but Orio shoves her back down with a hard push on her shoulders.

If looks could kill, I would be ash. But I just tip over two of her pawns with ravaging slowness.

Her eyes widen, lips part & close.

Full, soft lips.

"'Never play again'

isn't an empty threat."

The dominance in my words just infuriates her more, but she forces herelf to calm. She's assessing the situation. She knows she's outnumbered. Two of my men are visible. More lurk in the shadows and she probably figured it out

Because my first soldier she played with before Damien is absent

"You didn't introduce yourself or state the stakes." she says with that voice that does things to me

"I guess Damien didn't teach you the rules."

She adds.

Funny. I'm not playing stranger with you.

"You know who I am, Thalia.

Her eyes snap to me and I quirk my eyebrow at her.

Infuriating her further by puffing my cigarette.