Mafia's Obsession

ENRIQUE

I stepped out of the bathroom to find my office deserted. Hope and all her belongings were gone. What the hell? Why did she just up and leave? She was damn good for a first-timer.

“John, did Hope and her friends take off?” I asked when he answered his phone.

“Yeah. Just a few minutes ago. They all seemed in a rush,” John replied.

“Damn. Get me her home address. She’s Daniel Anderson’s daughter. Shouldn’t be too hard.” I ended the call without waiting for his response.

Surveying the now half-empty club, I sighed. Images of me driving into her tight, little pussy flooded my mind, making me hard again.

“You’re not off the hook yet, tigre.”

HOPE

Waking up with a hangover was one thing, but waking up with a hangover and a sore pussy was the absolute worst.

I’d spent the entire weekend either in bed, in the kitchen, or in the Jacuzzi. Memories of Friday night still played in my mind, making me groan.

Don’t get me wrong—I didn’t regret it. I’d never given much thought to my virginity, and he knew what he was doing. We both enjoyed it, and I gained some much-needed experience.

Right now, I was trying to decide what to wear to school. Normally, I didn’t give it a second thought, just throwing on whatever, but now I wasn’t so sure.

After twenty minutes of staring at my wardrobe, I pulled out a pair of plain jeans and a cute crop top that showed a hint of skin. It was a step up from my usual attire but still not too revealing.

I liked it.

When I got to school, I received a text from Lana saying she wouldn’t be in today and that she’d explain later. I texted Sofia to meet me at my locker.

“Hey, babe.” Sofia hugged me tightly. After a minute or so of nearly choking me, she finally let go and I could breathe again.

“Hey,” I managed to say.

She looked way too happy for a Monday morning.

“Spill,” I demanded.

She gave me an innocent smile, but I just stared at her, waiting for an answer.

“Alright,” she sighed.

I smiled and grabbed my books.

“There was this guy at the club. Turns out, he’s the head guard for the guy who owns it,” she said, a dreamy smile on her face.

“And?” I interrupted her daydreaming.

“Well, after you left, he came over. He asked if he could buy me a drink. Then we danced. Maybe we made out a little.” She whispered the last part.

I grinned at her, knowing that her “a little” was probably a lot more.

“Okay. Okay. Maybe it was more than ‘a little.’”

I just nodded. If only she knew what had happened to me…

“Anyway, he asked me out this morning.”

“When’s the date?” I asked, genuinely curious. I wanted to know who this guy was. And I intended to find out.

“Next Friday.” Her smile grew even wider. This wasn’t like her. This guy must’ve done something pretty special to have her so smitten.

“Come on, love-struck girl. We’ve got a class to get to,” I said, pulling her toward the psychology classroom.

***

The week flew by. It was already Friday, and I was on my way home from school. Nothing much had happened. I’d spent the week studying and training Willow.

Sofia had been driving me crazy all week with stories about the guard who’d stolen her heart. Finally, after today, she’d stop.

She hadn’t told me the guy’s name or what he looked like, but I knew where they were going. I told my cook that I’d be eating out tonight.

I hopped out of my car and headed straight for the stables, not bothering to change out of my school clothes. I wasn’t planning on riding today, so it didn’t matter.

“Hey, baby girl,” I said, patting Willow. She looked peaceful and tired after a week of intense training. I took her halter and led her out of her stable.

After a short walk, we reached the field where a few other horses were grazing peacefully as the sun set. I opened the gate and took off Willow’s halter. She immediately ran off to join the other horses.

I stayed in the same spot for a while longer, watching the sun set. The sight of the red sky and the peaceful horses was truly beautiful.

As I walked back, I found myself thinking about Enrique for the first time. About everything that had happened last Friday. It felt like a lifetime ago, even though it had only been a week.

I could still feel his lips on my skin. Hear myself moan as he made me climax. He made me beg, something I would never have done with any other man.

Not that I’d been with another man, but you get what I mean. He was powerful, but not powerful enough to make me submit to him.

When I got back home, I took a quick shower, did my makeup, and put on a dress my dad had given me for finishing twelfth grade with straight As.

It was a gorgeous Valentino dress—black, heavy lace, off-the-shoulder. It hit mid-thigh and hugged my curves perfectly.

Looking in the mirror, I knew something was missing. I went back to the bathroom, took out my blood-red lipstick, and applied it.

Now I was ready.

As I slipped on my black Louboutin heels, I wondered when I’d gone from wearing oversized clothes to designer outfits.

At least no one from school goes to places like this. I tried to reassure myself. I really didn’t want anyone to see me like this. I didn’t look like myself.

When I walked out, my driver was already waiting by the car and opened the passenger door for me. I thanked him as I got in.

“Where to, miss?” he asked politely.

I really should find out his name.

“Hotel Hilton on Park Lane, please,” I said as he started the car.

We arrived thirty minutes later. I thanked him for the ride and told him to pick me up in a few hours.

As I approached the hotel, I noticed a few appreciative glances from men. The doorman greeted me warmly as he held the door open. I headed straight for the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor.

The moment the elevator doors slid open, I was hit with a wave of loud music and chatter. I glanced at the restaurant but decided the bar was a safer bet.

I veered left, approached a friendly-looking hostess, and requested a table for one. She guided me to a table by the windows.

Scanning the drink menu, I settled on a gin and tonic. I was here on a mission to spy on my friend and uncover the identity of her mysterious bodyguard.

“What can I get you, miss?” a waiter asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“A gin and tonic, please. Make it strong.”

He nodded and left to fulfill my order.

I pulled out my phone and shot a quick text to Sofia.

A few minutes later, my drink arrived, and almost immediately, my phone buzzed with a response.

Time to find out who this guy is.

I picked up my drink and headed out of the bar, nearly bumping into a man in an expensive suit.

“I’m sorry.” I tried to sidestep him, but he caught my hand.

“Where are you off to, tigre?”

His voice was like velvet, deep and undeniably sexy.

“Enrique?” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

“The one and only, babe,” he whispered, nipping at my earlobe. A moan slipped out, inflating his already oversized ego.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped, trying to hide how much he affected me.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is why the fuck you left me.”

“Why the fuck would I stay?” I shot back. It was just a one-night stand. Why was he making such a big deal out of it?

“Because my cock wants to be inside you,” he murmured seductively in my ear.

He was such an arrogant jerk. But I couldn’t help but clench my thighs together, hoping I wouldn’t start panting. I rolled my eyes and yanked my hand from his grip.

“You’re not fucking me again. Not today, not ever.” My voice was meant to be firm, but it came out as a whisper.

He smirked, clearly not buying my words. I wasn’t even sure I believed them myself.

“We’ll see about that, tigre. You’ll be begging me to touch you soon,” he said, sauntering off to join a group of men.

I was determined. No matter how much he affected me, I wouldn’t let him touch me again.

I set my drink down, handed a £30 note to the waiter who’d served me, and headed for the restroom.

I checked my appearance in the mirror, making sure I looked presentable. I’d only been here for thirty minutes. It was time to call the driver and wait for him outside.

Great way to waste a night, Hope.

As I exited, I spotted Sofia posing for a photo in front of the mirror, champagne glass in hand. At least she was enjoying herself.

I moved closer to see who was taking her picture, only to recognize a familiar and irritating face.

John.

“I didn’t know she was into assholes,” I muttered to myself.

“He’s not that bad.”

The response came from behind me. I turned to find Enrique again.

“Goodbye, Enrique,” I said, brushing past him. I wasn’t about to deal with him again.

“I’ll see you later, tigre.”