Page 55 of Mafia Obsession

But I need it, and I weakly throw my arms around him. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got you,” he says, his voice low. “I’m here. Let me look at you.”

I reluctantly let go and hold my middle.

“You’re hurt,” he grinds out.

“Those men—” The words dissolve on my tongue. “They said?—”

“Shhh, don’t worry,” he interrupts. “I know who they are.”

Behind him, the presence of others in the doorway becomes clear. His guards were here all along, but Ares shot my attackers himself.

Looking over his shoulder, he says, “Get in here and close the door.”

One by one, seven burly men crowd into my apartment.

“Pride and Envy, get rid of these bodies. Don’t bother with cleaners. I want their DNA traced if anyone shows up to investigate.”

The guards nod, and one of them gets on the phone.

Looking from them to me, Ares says, “You can’t stay here.”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

“You do now. Where is your bedroom?”

I step back. “This… This way.”

With his arm around my waist, he brings me to the bedroom. “Can you dress on your own?”

“I… I think so,” I say, though I’m still woozy.

“If you need help, I’m right here.” But he turns his back to give me privacy.

For a moment, I stand there dumbfounded. Confused. I don’t want to stay here, but I doubt Ares will just leave me on my own even if I fight him. With his back to me, I lift the nightshirt off my body with clumsy, sticky fingers.

I watch the rigid line of Ares’s shoulders as he stands facing the door while I struggle to pull on jeans and a sweater, skipping a bra. “I… You can turn around.”

He slowly rotates, eyes all over me and then the room in an assessing, operation-focused manner.

“Gluttony,” he calls out, and a man who I can’t distinguish from the others appears in the doorway to my bedroom.

“Boss?”

“Grab all her clothes. Take everything that’s hers from the bathroom, too. Makeup, toiletries, all of it.”

Within minutes, my life is tucked into one suitcase. I stand frozen, thinking about my dad’s journals and photo albums in dusty, crumbling boxes at the back of my closet.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Somewhere I can keep you safe.”

“Your penthouse? The Aurelian?”

“Further.”

Both places of his have guards. Layers of them. If that’s not enough…