His Crimson Obsession

Chapter eleven — His to Claim

Nigel’s POV

The warehouse smelled of oil, sweat, and fear.

I sat at the head of the table, cigarette burning between my fingers. Around me, my men kept silent, eyes lowered. The only sound was the uneven breathing of the woman kneeling on the concrete floor, her hands bound behind her back.

“Do you know what I hate most, Maria?” I asked, my voice smooth and calm.

She shook her head violently. “P-Please, Prince, I didn’t—”

“Lies,” I cut her off. “You sold my routes to my rivals. You thought no one would notice? Thought I wouldn’t find out?”

Her mascara ran down her face as tears carved black rivers across her cheeks. “They—they forced me. They had my brother, I swear—”

I leaned back, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “Excuses bore me.”

The men around the table shifted, uneasy. They knew what was coming. They just didn’t know how cruel I felt like being tonight.

I rose slowly, crushing the cigarette into the ashtray with a hiss. My shoes echoed on the concrete as I stepped toward her. She flinched with every sound.

I knelt down, tilting her chin up with two fingers. Her wide and terrified eyes looked at me..

“You knew the rules. You don’t betray me. Not for family. Not for love. Not for God himself.”

I stood, withdrew my gun, and aimed it at her forehead.

The room held its breath.

“No, please, Prince, I’ll do anything, I’ll—”

The shot cracked like thunder. Her skull split, a spray of crimson painting the concrete. Her body hit the ground before the last word left her lips, twitching once before going still.

Silence. Heavy. The metallic stench of blood spread fast.

I slid the gun into the holster, turning back to the table. “Clean it up.”

Vato, calm as ever, leaned against the wall, watching me with a raised brow. “That’s supposed to calm you down?”

I smirked, shrugging out of my leather jacket. Blood spatter flecked my cheek, and I didn’t bother wiping it off. “I’m just getting started. She can’t be the only one with a death warrant. Let’s go hunt the next bastard.”

Vato flinched but quickly hid it with a smile. “You’re unusually bloodthirsty today, Prince.”

“When is he not?” Luke answered from behind him.

“True fact.” Vato nodded. Then, with a grin: “And should I say, Luke baby, you look stunning tonight.”

Luke was about to retort when I cut him off, my tone dropping into lethal calm.

“If both of you don’t shut your mouths and move, I’ll carve your tongues out and feed them to the rats. The next blood spilled won’t be theirs—but yours. Now hurry the f**k up… I have a thirst to quench.”

The men stiffened. They knew I meant it.

Palacito —Nigel's office

I sat in my office, cigarette burning low between my fingers, the smoke curling into the shadows. But my mind wasn’t on the meetings I’d skipped tonight or the killing spree I had all day. It was on her.

Gabriella Rossi.

That girl. That stubborn, sharp-mouthed little firecracker who had the audacity to look at me like I was nothing but a nuisance.

I should’ve forgotten her after that night at the gala. Should’ve let the memory fade like the end of this cigarette. But instead, every word she spat back at me kept replaying, sharp and addictive.

And it made me restless.

I wasn’t used to being restless. Men feared me. Women obeyed me. One glare was enough to silence a room. But she—she rolled her eyes at me. She laughed. She turned her back on me when every instinct should have told her to run.

Pathetic as it sounds, I liked it.

I took a long drag, exhaling through clenched teeth. The problem wasn’t liking it. The problem was the hunger crawling under my skin—the hunger to have her in front of me again. To pull her into my world. To make her understand what it meant to have my attention.

I pictured her pinned beneath me on this very desk, lips parted, fire in her eyes even as her breath hitched. My hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so I could taste the soft skin of her throat. Her nails clawing at me. I imagined her defiance cracking into something else, something I could feel in the way her body arched into mine, in the way her voice broke when she said my name under her breath.

The fantasy made my pulse throb. f**k, I’d never craved to be inside a woman this bad. Gabriella was a temptation I couldn’t escape.

The door opened. Vato slipped in, calm as always, unreadable.

“You’re off tonight,” he said.

I stubbed out the cigarette and reached for my bourbon.

“You didn’t show at the docks, didn’t show at the casino either,” he went on. “Canceled the route meeting with West and went on a killing rampage. Men are starting to notice.”

My jaw flexed. “Do you hear anyone complaining?”

“No,” he admitted. Then, with that damn smirk, he said, “But I hear you’ve been thinking about a certain waitress.”

I looked up slowly. My eyes locked on his. “Careful.”

He chuckled. “Just saying. You don’t lose focus. Not for women. Not for family. But now? You’ve got your eyes on someone—and it isn’t a rival.”

The glass slammed onto the desk, bourbon spilling. Vato didn’t flinch.

“Mind your business, Vato. She’s nothing,” I snapped.

But the lie burned worse than the liquor.

“She talks back. She stares me down. She makes me…” My fists curled tight. “She makes me want to tear every wall she’s built around herself until there’s nothing left but me inside her head… and her body.”

The room went still. My words lingered, thick, heavy, dangerous.

I paced to the window, staring at the city stretched beneath me. Loud, filthy—but mine. Every street, every business, every man who owed me his life and blood.

And still—Gabriella was the only thing I wanted.

She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t bend. She didn’t break. Not yet.

But I would change that. Not with pain. Not with fear. With something deeper. Something she couldn’t run from, even if she tried.

My palms pressed against the glass, the city lights blurring before me.

“She doesn’t know what she’s playing with,” I muttered.

Vato’s voice spoke from behind me. “So what are you going to do?”

I turned slowly, a smile curving my mouth. Cold and certain.

“What I always do. Control the board. Pull the strings. And remind her who she belongs to.”

I dialed a number.

“Keep eyes on her,” I ordered the moment the line connected. “Where she is. Who she talks to. When she breathes. Every move. Every second.”

My pulse steadied as the call ended.

Gabriella could resist. She could fight. She could spit in my face and curse me with every word she knew.

It didn’t matter.

She would be mine—she just didn’t realize it yet.

I lit another cigarette, the flame sparking bright.

“Everyone bends,” I whispered into the smoke.

“Will she?” Vato asked.

“She will,” I said, voice low and dangerous. “Everyone bends. Gabriella would be no different.”