Twisted Obsession

38 - Unraveled

Athena Luciana Bianchi

The ceiling was a blur of shadows as I lay awake, listening to the muffled hum of laughter and conversation seeping through the ventilation. Federico's voice was unmistakable—smooth, teasing, and often punctuated by that maddeningly cocky laugh. But he wasn't alone. Another masculine voice joined him, the cadence of their Spanish banter blending into the stillness of the house.

Sliding out of bed, I tugged on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. My hair was a tangled mess, but I quickly twisted it into a loose braid, grabbing my phone off the nightstand before padding silently out of the room. The faint glow of nightlights traced my path as I descended the stairs, drawn by the pull of their voices.

I paused at the doorway to the kitchen, unnoticed for now. Federico was leaning casually against the counter, dark red sweatpants slung low on his hips and a black zip-up hoodie worn open to reveal the taut lines of his chest. The hood framed his face in a way that only added to his dangerous charm. His eyes glinted with that perpetual look of mischief, like he was already three steps ahead in some game no one else knew they were playing.

The other guy—the one who'd opened the door for us earlier—was shirtless, his tanned, athletic build illuminated in the soft light of the fridge as he rummaged inside. His sweatpants hung low, just enough to make me look twice before snapping my gaze up. He radiated effortless confidence, the kind that wasn't just practiced but lived in.

Federico's eyes were the first to find me, locking on with a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. The other guy turned his head, curiosity flickering across his face before his lips curled into a satisfied smile. His dark eyes roamed down my body, blatant and unapologetic. "Carlos," he said, his voice smooth as velvet. "And you must be Athena. Rico's mentioned you."

"Has he now?" I asked, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorway. My tone was sharper than I intended, but the heat rising in my chest made it hard to care. Federico rolled his eyes at me.

Carlos grinned, closing the fridge and leaning back against it, his arms crossing over his chest. "Only good things, I promise."

He pushed off the fridge, stepping closer to me. "So, Athena," he said, his voice dropping just enough to make my pulse quicken, "is this how you usually spend your nights? Wandering kitchens looking for trouble?"

"Only when trouble sounds this loud," I quipped, holding his gaze.

Federico rolled his eyes, stepping into the space between us as if to physically cut the tension. "Relax, Carlos. She's not your type. Don't try so hard."

Carlos chuckled, not breaking eye contact with me. "You don't know my type, Rico."

Federico's smirk deepened as he crossed his arms, his posture casual yet deliberate. "Oh, but I do," he drawled, his gaze flicking to Carlos with a knowing glint. Their eyes locked, tension simmering between them—something charged, electric, almost tangible. It wasn't just camaraderie; it was something far more intimate. The air between them felt alive, hinting at secrets I wasn't privy to.

Carlos finally broke the moment, turning his attention back to me. His lips curled into a sly, almost predatory smile that sent a flicker of heat rushing through me. "Well, this was fun," he said, his voice smooth and velvety. He chuckled lightly, his dark eyes lingering on mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. "Goodnight, Athena."

I managed a soft smile, unsure whether I was relieved or disappointed as he turned to leave.

As Carlos left he said something in Spanish. Whatever it was, it coaxed a quiet, genuine laugh from Federico, a rare sound that seemed to echo in the suddenly still room. I hear one of the upstairs doors click shut, and just like that, the atmosphere grew heavier, thicker, charged with an unspoken energy.