God of Mischief (Light of Obsession #2)

Chapter 2

Yuto

I lounge lazily on the couch in the Heathens mansion, I'm technically not one of the main five, I'd rather not be in the spotlight, but no decision happens without consulting me. Gareth, Kill, Jer, Niko and Vaughn are the only people I tolerate. Everyone else is a pawn for me

I take after my father in many ways. The humor, hunger for violence, manic nature and of course; rugged handsomeness.

Not to mention our taste for feisty women. My mother was no picnic for my father to pursue and I assume Amelie will not be either.

I've been keeping tabs on her for a while now, monitoring her moves. She's something special. An enigma.

I take a deep breath and stare at the bank of windows in the Heathens mansion, the storm outside mirroring the turmoil in my own mind. Rain beats against the glass, a rhythmic tattoo that drowns out the echoes of my own thoughts—thoughts of her. Amelie. The singular name that has managed to break through my usual callous demeanor and latch onto my insides like a parasite I can't quite shake off.

She's sharp, no, razor-edged—like a knife you think you can handle until you cut yourself. I relish the challenge she presents, though. Feisty? Definitely. Witty? Oh, she's got that covered too. I smirk at how her sarcasm dances dangerously close to the lines of disrespect and admiration. I like to think that it's a game she plays. Little does she know I'm the one making the moves behind the curtain of our little rivalry, and I'm unbeatable.

I stretch my legs out, trying to ignore the throbbing itch of irritation that refuses to subside, thinking about how I'll avoid another clash with her this week. She loves to throw her verbal daggers, and while they sting, I've learned to play it cool. "Do you ever get tired of being so brilliant?" I might toss at her next, hidden beneath a veneer of laughter.

But that's just it—Amelie never gets tired. She thrives on banter like a wolf on a fresh kill, and I wish I could tell her how intoxicating her stubbornness is. Instead, I watch from the edges, cloaked in my own mask of humor and counterfeit indifference. I have to keep my obsession hidden—like an ancient treasure buried deep within a secret vault—because if anyone found out about my growing feelings for her, especially her, I'd be scrutinized and dissected like the last pizza slice at a party.

Wander off the path, Yuto; that's what they'd say. Don't approach the forbidding jungle. But how could I resist? Amelie is a labyrinth I'm both drawn to and terrified of, and occasionally I catch glimpses of the courage she's hidden beneath that sarcastic veneer.

"Hey, Yuto! You want to hang out this weekend?" One of the other Heathens-in-training interrupts my thoughts, draping an arm over the back of the couch, oblivious to my internal scuffle. They talk. They laugh. But it feels so hollow compared to the biting challenge of engaging with Amelie. I put on my best grin, but my thoughts drift back to her again.

I know she's at REU, thriving in her own rivalry, completely aware of me, yet blissfully ignorant of the meticulously woven web of intrigue I'm crafting around us. Perhaps I'm a pawn in my own game. The irony isn't lost on me.

"Sure thing," I answer, but I'm not really there. I'm miles away, trudging through the ruins of my focused thoughts and unexamined feelings, stuck in a standoff between my family's legacy and my own desires.

I might be a mafia heir, but against Amelie, I feel like a mere pawn looking to checkmate a queen. And I'll do whatever it takes to make her see that I can be more than just a leader of the Heathens. I want to be the one who finally understands her intricacies—the one who doesn't shy away from the challenge but welcomes it.

Suddenly, the air feels charged, heavy with possibilities. I might duck and weave through petty rivalries, but when it comes to Amelie? I'm all in. Time to make my move.

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A/N:
And their story begins!!!
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