The Mafia Prince's obsession (MM)

Dante

The music in the main hall felt like a heart beat, pulsing through the walls  drowning in a haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and muffled conversations.

I wasn't a stranger to family functions, they were as much a part of my world as guns and cold-eyed stares. I was supposed to be mingling, playing the part of the dutiful son and future husband. But sometimes drew me away from the crowd, guiding me through the dimly lit corridors to the quiet kitchen.

I rounded the corner, and there was Elijah Vega. Standing alone by the counter, casually swirling a glass of something dark and amber. The was an ease in the way Elijah held himself, a self-assuredness that I found...compelling.

He was different, and I had known from the first glance. He wasn't like Maya, all seft edges and polite smiles. Elijah was fire tucked under cool skin, something electric hiding behind his calm exterior.

I learned against the doorway, a smirk playing on my lips. "So, hiding from the chaos?"

Elijah looks up, surprised at first, but his expression quickly melted into a wary smike. "I could say the same about you."

I stepped forward, my eyes never leaving his. "I have a reputation to keep. Can't let everyone think I'm the perfect son."

"Is that what you are?" He challenged, arching a brow.

"Depends who you ask," I reply, holding his gaze. "But what about you? Here alone, dodging the dance floor? Aren't you supposed to be out there charming everyone?"

He laughed, low and genuine. "Not really my thing. Besides, I don't fit in the way you all do."

There was a hint of vulnerability in his words, but it was guarded, like he wad daring me to pry deeper.

I took a step closer, my voice lower, "Mybe that's what I like about you."

His expression froze for a split second, his eyes searching my face, like he was trying to decipher a hidden code. "And what would the future Mr Husband of my sister have to like about me?"

The edge in his tone was unmistakable, but I didn't back down. I could feel my heart racing, a thrill that I couldn't ignore and didn't want to. "What if I don't want to be that? Not if it means pretending, hiding."

He studied me for a moment, the tension thickening between us. "Pretending's a skill we all have to learn in this life. But it doesn't mean it gets any easier."

I let out a breath, my voice softened. "I don't want easy. Never have. I'd rather deal with something real." I held his eyes, a silent invitation hanging in the air.

Elijah took a slow sip from his glass, considering me with a look that was equal parts curiosity and challenge. "Then mybe you should start being honest, with yourself and everyone else."

The weight of his words  settled around them, and for a moment, I couldn't look away. In that stillness, I felt like I was on the edge of something dangerous, and mybe even inevitable.

"Mybe I'm trying," I  murmur, my voice barely a whisper.

We stood there in the quiet of the kitchen, caught in a moment that neither of us could–or wanted to–break.