Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

“Alajos,” Bryson said, looking at him angrily.

Alajos didn’t know who had informed the Brysons; he hadn’t asked anyone to do so, and Vilem wouldn’t have either, as there were no phones in the ward for making contact.

His piercing gaze swept over Simpson, who opened his hands towards him, signaling that he wasn’t the informant either.

Good. Alajos was furious; it seemed he needed to find out which member of his team was so disobedient.

“Bryson,” Alajos approached to greet him.

“He’s injured, severely!” Bryson said angrily.

“The doctors will do their best to treat him without delaying tomorrow’s wedding.”

“The wedding tomorrow will certainly not be delayed. It doesn’t matter if he can’t attend. But he is my son! I sent him to Houston to help you, and it’s your responsibility to protect him, not to indulge him in dangerous missions! Four of my elite men that I sent to you are already dead!”

“Are my men safe and sound?” Alajos roared back, “We are doing dangerous work; deaths are inevitable. Your elites died four, mine twenty, and my father has died too-have you forgotten?”

“Los Angeles has been helping Houston resist Bratva’s invasion. To repay you, I agreed to marry your daughter as you requested, gave my cousin Luzia to Joseph, and allowed Vilem to be fully trained with me, growing into a qualified Made Man. This is all the sincerity I have shown; there’s nothing left.”Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

The cooperation between Houston and Los Angeles had always been equal; his status was on par with Bryson’s-neither superior nor inferior. But Bryson’s authoritative tone had just put himself in a higher position than Alajos, scolding Alajos as if he were a subordinate. This had touched Alajos’s bottom line.

Alajos couldn’t tolerate this; he had to assert his attitude more dominantly than Bryson to defend his status. Otherwise, sooner or later, Bryson would no longer respect him, and Houston would become a vassal to Los Angeles.

The conversation with Bryson ended unpleasantly. Alajos returned to his apartment; it was already late. Vivian and Luzia had gone to bed.

He went upstairs, passing Vivian’s room without pausing, and entered his own room. He undressed, entering the bathroom naked and turned on the shower overhead. Warm water cascaded down.

The temperature didn’t invigorate him, so Alajos turned it down. Cold water wet his hair and battered his heated skin.

Leaning on the bathroom wall with one hand, his back and shoulders tensed, his breathing rapid, his fingers moved flexibly with his breaths. Suddenly, the image of Vivian appeared in his mind-beautiful, alluring. He imagined her in a pristine wedding dress, walking into the holy church, pledging eternal loyalty to him, never to betray. He kissed his bride before the witnesses, carried her into the bridal chamber, tossed her onto the bed strewn with rose petals.

No one could stop him from tearing his bride’s gown, no one could stop him from kissing, caressing, tearing as he took her roughly, his movements on her body wild…

Alajos let out a roar, the icy water continuously pounding his body, the scent of shower gel unable to mask the strong musk. His breaths were heavy, his desire unabated.

He came out of the bathroom, dried his hair, and put on a clean bathrobe. Then, sitting before the fireplace in a lounge chair, he poured himself a glass of whiskey. After drinking, he would lie in bed and sleep soundly. Tomorrow was the wedding; he should maintain a full spirit to deal with the tedious procedures.

Vivian should do the same.

But what about Vilem? Not tell her about Vilem’s injury?

Of course, that would be the best way-to avoid her being sad, crying swollen eyes on how to be a beautiful bride tomorrow.

But that’s her brother!

Alajos hung his head. If Simpson were the one injured in the hospital, would he want everyone to hide it from him? No, he needed to know immediately, to rush to his brother’s side.

Alright, you selfish bastard, Alajos cursed, you can’t pretend you know nothing.

Alajos changed into clean clothes and rushed out the door, walking briskly to Vivian’s room and knocked.

Inside, it was silent; Vivian seemed to be sound asleep and didn’t respond immediately. Alajos knocked patiently a couple more times before Vivian woke up groggily. She was sleeping more deeply than Alajos expected.

Vivian looked haggard from being woken up, rubbing her eyes as she opened the door, staring blankly at Alajos.

Alajos was also taken aback because Vivian emerged without a robe, clearly not fond of wearing a bra to bed, the way her nipples pressed against the soft fabric, becoming erect with ease-small and pointed, he found them unexpectedly charming.

Vivian wasn’t fully awake yet; she didn’t notice the desire in Alajos’ eyes, or she would have certainly been frightened enough to retreat back into her room and lock the door immediately.

“What’s the matter?” Vivian had to look up to see Alajos’ face, he was over six feet four inches tall, and she had often felt frustrated by her own short stature.

Alajos looked down at her and delivered the unfortunate news, “Your brother’s been hurt, he’s in the hospital getting treated.”

Vivian’s legs gave way, but Alajos caught her, “Who? Joseph? Or Vilem?” Her lips quivered, especially when she guessed Vilem, her fear was so evident.

“It’s Vilem.”

Vivian’s eyes instantly reddened, tears streaming down her face as she clutched at Alajos’ sleeve, “Is he alright? Is he alive? Is it serious?”

“The surgery was successful, there’s no immediate danger to his life, the hospital will provide the best treatment,” Alajos reassured her, leading her into the room and turning on the light, “Do you want to see him now?”

“What?” Vivian, hearing that Vilem wasn’t in danger of dying, regained some spirit, her groggy mind not entirely clear, “Can we visit now? At three in the morning, will the hospital let us in? I know the wedding won’t be canceled, I’ve tried so much already-I mean aren’t you tired? We both have to get up early tomorrow, we shouldn’t even be seeing each other right now.”

“Listen to me, Vivian,” Alajos took her by the shoulders, feeling her tremble. Maybe she wasn’t as composed as she appeared, she was worried about her brother, she could cry, even lose sleep over it all night.

“Do you want to see Vilem? You just need to answer me, yes or no.”

Vivian calmed down under his deep voice, nodding, tears landing on the back of her hand, “Yes.”

“Get dressed now, it’s cold outside, put on a jacket,” Alajos let her go and walked out of the room, “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

Vivian dried her tears and quickly changed, remembering Alajos’ words, she pulled a jacket out of the wardrobe.

It wasn’t long before Alajos was waiting for Vivian, now dressed, and they took the elevator to the underground garage where his driver was already waiting with the car.

“To the hospital,” Alajos told his driver.