The Mafia Prince's obsession (MM)

Elijah

The ride back is quiet, hearing only the low hum of the car's engine and the faint melody of jazz station Dante turned into. The evening air has softeness to it, a kind of stillness that matches the weight of my thoughts.

I glance at him briefly, his hands steady on the wheel, his profile sharp and perfect under the dim lights of the dashboard. He hasn't said much after we left the restaurant but the calm confidence radiating from him is enough to keep me on edge.

When I finally dare to speak, my voice comes out softer than intended. "This...isn't the way home."

His lips curve into a small knowing smile. "Who said I'm taking you home?"

A chill runs down my spine, but not from fear. It's something else —something electric, something that makes my pulse quicken. "Then where are we going?"

"You'll see," he says simply, his tone casual, but there is an undeniable edge of mystery to it.

I narrow my eyes at him. "You're really love being cryptic, don't you?"

"It keeps things interesting," he replies, glancing at me briefly with a glint in his eyes that make my breath hitch.

The city light soon fades behind us as he drives further away from the buzz of downtown. The road grows quiet, surrounded by tall trees and the occasional soft glow of streetlamps. I can't help but fidget in my seat, my curiosity battling with the remnants of unease.

After what feels like forever, he turns down a narrow, hidden path that opens up to a small clearing. There, nestled amist the shadows of towering trees, is a charming cabin-like structure illuminated by warm, golden lights. The quiet hum of the night surrounding us, broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind.

Dante kills the engine and turns to me, his expression unreadable. "Come on."

I hesitate for a moment before unbuckling my seatbelt and stepping out of the car. The cool air kiss my skin as I follow him towards the entrance of the cozy hideaway.

"What is this play?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He glances over his shoulder, his smile softening. "It's somewhere I come when I want to get away from...everything. No noice, no distractions. Just peace. "

He opens the door, revealing a beautifully furnished space. Soft lighting bathed the room, highlighting a comfortable looking couch, a crackling fireplace, and a floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breath taking view of a starlit sky.

My heart pounds in my chest as I stepp inside, the intimacy of the space wrapping around me like a warm blanket. "Why bring me here?"

He turns to me fully, his eyes locking into mine. "Because I want you here."

His words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken with everything he wasn't saying.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze. "Dante, I...I don't know what this is between us...and it doesn't even have a name"

He steps closer, his movement deliberate and calm, until there was barely any space between us. His hands come up to gently brush a damp strand of hair from my forehead. "It doesn't need a name, Eli. Not yet."

"But—"

"Stop overthinking," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Just...be here with me. That's all I'm asking. "

His fingers linger on my skin, the warmth of his touch grounding me. The weight of his presence is impossible to ignore, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

"Dante..."

He leans in slightly, his breath ghosting over my ear. " Trust me, Fiammetta. I won't let anything hurt you. Not here, not ever."

His words wrapp around me like the flames he so often compares me to, warm, dangerous, and all-consuming.

The quiet of the cabin seems to amplify everything else. The steady rhythm of my heartbeat, the soft crackle of the fire, and most of all, the intensity of his gaze on me.

I try to step back, to put some distance between us, but my feet betray me, staying rooted to the stop. "You keep doing this," I mutter, my voice soft.

"Doing what?" He asks, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge, his hand lingering just above my cheek, close enough to feel the heat of his skin."

I swallow hard. "Getting under my skin. Throwing me off balance,"

His lips curl into a small smirk, his hand finally cupping my jaw. "Good. I like throwing you off balance."

I scoff, trying to ignore the way my pulse spikes at his words. "You're insufferable."

"And you're irresistible. "

I open my mouth to retort, but before I can, Dante's other hand finds its way to my waist, pulling me closer. The heat of his body seeps into mine. His grip firm but not overbearing.

"You drive me insane, Fiammetta, " he murmurs, his dark eyes searching mine. "Every look, every word, everytime you try to run....it only makes me want you more. "

My breath hitch as his thumb brushes over my bottom lip, the touch to light, it's almost maddening. "Dante..."

He leans in, his forehead touching mine. "Tell me to stop," he whispers, his voice low and rough. "If you want me to stop, I will, but if you don't...."

My resolve cracks under the weight of his words, the way his breath fans over my skin, the sheer magnetic pull of him. But I can't give in–not completely. "You're impossible. " I manage, my voice shaky.

"And you're perfect, " he counters, his lips curving into a wicked grin.

Before I can react, he dips his head and trails his lips along my jawline, slow and deliberate, his stubble brushing against my skin. A shiver runs down my spine, and instinctively clutch at his shoulders.

"Do you feel that, Fiammetta?" He murmurs, his voice dripping with need as his lips hover near my ear. "What you do to me?"

My knees threaten to give out as his hand tighten on my waist, pulling me flush against him. There was no mistaking the evidence of his desire pressing against me, and it sent my thoughts into a whirlwind of chaos.

"Dant..." I breathe, my voice barely audible.

"You're mine, Elijah," he says, his tone firm, possessive, and it sent a jolt of heat through me. "Weather you want to admit it or not, you belong to me."

I swallow hard, torn between the magnetic pull of him and the voice in my head screaming at me to hold on to what little control I have left. "You can't just...say things like that."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes, his expression a mix of frustration and raw desire. "Why not? It's the truth. You can try to deny it, but it won't change how I feel—or how you feel."

My heart races as his words sink in, the weight of them pressing down on me . "I...I don't know what I feel" I admit.

His expression softens, but his grip on me remains firm. "Then let me help you figure it out," he says, his voice low and coaxing. "Let me show you what this could be"