The Mafia King’s Debt

100% OBSESSION

ADAM’S POV

The steady rhythm of high heels echoed through the room, growing louder with every step, and my body instinctively tensed as I turned toward the door.

A woman entered.

She wore black heels that clicked sharply against the floor, and her movements were calm enough to suggest that she had absolutely no reason to fear the two men tied to chairs in front of her.

I watched her approach, trying to focus despite the lingering dizziness, but the strange effect of whatever I had been injected with made it difficult to keep my vision completely steady.

Her legs came into view first, followed by the elegant outline of her figure beneath a red outfit that fitted her beautifully.

My gaze travelled upward, and then my heart seemed to stumble against my ribs.

Cora?

I genuinely believed that Cora Bennett was standing in front of me, looking perfectly composed while I sat tied to a chair like a fool. Her face seemed familiar, painfully familiar, and I found myself staring at her.

Was I still hallucinating?

Had the injection affected my brain badly enough that I was imagining the one woman I had been trying very hard not to think about?

I blinked several times, hoping the image would disappear, but the woman continued walking toward me, her heels announcing every step as she stopped directly in front of my chair.

No.

It couldn’t be Cora.

What would she possibly be doing here, in a hidden room with armed men, after leaving the hospital to deal with the chaos surrounding her relationship?

I had no reason to believe she was involved in this mess, and despite everything that had happened tonight, I still couldn’t imagine her ordering an attack on my warehouse.

I swallowed painfully.

“Cora?”

The woman stopped moving.

“Why would you kidnap me?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended. “What did I ever do to you? I saved you, Cora.”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer, staring at my face with a curiosity that made the hairs along my arms rise, and then she reached down and gently lifted my chin with two fingers.

The touch was so unexpected that I forgot about the ropes for a second.

She leaned closer, her eyes fixed on mine, and the faintest smile appeared on her lips.

“Who is Cora?” she asked softly. “Do I look like someone you know?”

My heartbeat suddenly became louder than the buzzing light above us.

She looked like Cora. She sounded almost like Cora. But the woman standing before me carried herself with a confidence that felt entirely different from the frightened, uncertain woman I had met at the hospital.

And when she smiled again, I noticed something that made my blood run cold.

A tiny star-shaped tattoo, with a dot in its centre, rested against the inside of her wrist.

“Now,” she murmured, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from my shoulder, “why don’t we discuss the money you lost, Mr. Moretti?”

I forced myself to meet her eyes.

“Who the hell are you?”

“That’s a very interesting question, Adam.”

Her words lingered in the air as she straightened, wearing that mysterious smile that made me want to know what she was hiding and, at the same time, regret ever asking.

A man like me didn’t survive by panicking whenever a situation became uncomfortable, and although I was still feeling the effects of whatever had been injected into my body, my mind remained determined to find a way out.

She glanced toward the door before raising one hand and signalling to the man standing nearby.

“Take him away.”

My attention snapped toward Marcus. “Where the hell are you taking him?” I demanded, pulling against the ropes that held my wrists behind the chair.

Marcus turned toward me, his expression tense, but before he could say anything, the guard seized his chair and began dragging him toward the exit.

“Hey!” I shouted, struggling against my restraints. “I asked you a question, and I expect an answer!”

The woman sighed as though my anger was nothing more than an irritating interruption to her.

“Adam, please remain calm.”

“Calm?” I repeated incredulously. “Your people kidnapped me, drugged me, killed my men and tied me to a chair, and now you’re taking my associate somewhere without explaining why. Tell me which part of this arrangement is supposed to make me feel calm.”

“You’re much more attractive when you aren’t shouting.” She responded.

Was this woman seriously flirting with me right now?

“Get Marcus back here,” I ordered, ignoring her comment. But she snapped her fingers at the guard, who continued pulling Marcus toward the door.

“Wait!” Marcus shouted, twisting around to look at me. “Boss, don’t do anything stupid!”

I laughed.

“You’re the one being dragged away, Marcus! Perhaps you should worry about yourself!”

The door closed before he could respond, leaving me alone with the woman. I watched her as she walked toward the far wall, her heels clicking against the floor with every unhurried step.

She stopped beneath one of the security cameras and reached into her pocket, producing a small spray bottle that looked completely ordinary.

My eyebrows drew together as she raised it toward the camera.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she sprayed something directly onto the camera’s lens, leaving a dark, reddish stain spreading across the glass until the little indicator light became impossible to see.

I stared at the camera, then at the bottle in her hand.

Was that blood?

“What the hell is that?” I demanded.

She examined the camera with the satisfaction of someone who had just finished an ordinary household chore.

“Privacy.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.”

My jaw tightened as I tested the ropes again, pulling hard enough to make the chair creak beneath me.

They held. I shifted my wrists, searching for a weak point, but the restraints were secured tightly enough that every movement only made the pressure against my skin more uncomfortable.

Why couldn’t I break free?

I had trained with men who could finish off an opponent before he even realized a fight had started, and I had spent years learning how to defend myself when negotiations failed. Yet here I was, tied to a chair.

If I could get my hands free, I could disarm her before she reached for another injection.

If I could stand, I could get to the door.

And if she came close enough, I could probably knock her unconscious before she had another chance to surprise me.

Unfortunately, every one of those plans depended on my body cooperating with me.

The dizziness still lingered, making the room feel slightly unstable whenever I moved too quickly, and I hated knowing that she had deliberately put me in a condition where my strength meant very little.

She finally turned away from the camera and faced me, before walking toward the door.

I followed her movements with my eyes, wondering whether she intended to leave me alone or bring someone else into the room, but instead, she reached for the lock and turned it.

Click.

“Why are you locking the door?”

She slipped the key into her pocket before turning toward me with an almost playful expression.

“Because I don’t want anyone interrupting us.”

“Listen carefully,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Whatever you think you’re doing, I suggest you reconsider before this becomes something you cannot control.”

She laughed softly.

“Oh, Adam, you really do think you’re in charge of everything, don’t you?”

“Usually, I am.”

“Not today.”

She stopped directly in front of me, and I had to resist the urge to lean away as she studied my face with an unsettling amount of interest.

Up close, she looked even more familiar, although I knew with growing certainty that she wasn’t Cora. Her features were similar enough to confuse me, but there was something different about her eyes, something colder and far more deliberate.

She reached toward the collar of her shirt.

My eyes widened.

“Wait. What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer, but continued removing her outer clothing.

I pulled against the ropes again.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Why are you acting so surprised?” She asked.

“Because most people don’t kidnap a man, tie him to a chair, and start undressing in front of him!”

“Perhaps you haven’t met the right people.”

“Apparently, I have the misfortune of meeting you.”

She laughed, completely unbothered by my irritation, and tossed her outer shirt onto a table.

I quickly turned my face away, more out of frustration than embarrassment, because I had no interest in becoming part of whatever fantasy she had constructed inside her head.

“Put your clothes back on,” I said firmly. “You are naked.”