The Mafia Prince's obsession (MM)

Elijah

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. I stir awake slowly, my body heavier than usual, but in the best way. The first thing I notice is the warm–solid, comforting, and undeniable Dante.

I open my eyes and realize I am wraped around him, my arm draped over his chest and my leg tangled with his. His arm is slung protectively around me, his breathing is deep and steady, his chest rising and falling beneath my palm.

I freeze for a moment, the weight of what happened last night settling in. We crossed a line I never thought we  would. But as I lay here, pressed against him, his presence grounding me, I find myself and unwilling to let the tension creep back in.

For once, I wanted to enjoy the moment and let go of all my worries. Just this once.

My eyes trail over his face, peaceful in sleep. His dark lashes fan across his cheekbones, his strong jaw slightly relaxed.

His lips—God, his lips –soft and parted slightly, as if inviting me to kiss him again.

I let out a shaky breath, unsure why my chest feels so tight. My fingers, almost on their own accord, brush against his collarbone, tracing the curve of his shoulders.

"Enjoying the view, huh?"

His voice startles me, deep and gravelly with sleep. I jerk my hand back, and his lips curve into a slow, lazy smirk as his eyes open, dark and glinting with mischief.

"You—were awake?" I stammere, my face heating up instantly.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "For a little while. But watching you stare at me is far more entertaining than letting you know."

I groan and try to pull away, embarrassed, but his arms tighten around me, keeping me firmly pressed against him.

"Where do you think you're going, Fiammetta?" He asks, his voice low and teasing. Causing a shiver down my spine.

"You're insufferable," I mutter, but my lips twitch despite myself.

"Mhmm, maybe," he tilts his head, his dark hair messy from sleep. "But you like it."

Before I can even respond, his lips are on me, capturing me in a kiss that is both gentle and possessive. My heart stutters as I melt into him, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck.

"You're beautiful like this," he murmurs against my lips, his voice sending heat through me. "All mine, wraped up in my eyes,"

I pull back slightly, my face burning. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, here you are," he counteres, his smirk widening. "Not running away."

I roll my eyes, but can't deny the truth his words.

His fingers skimm down my side, sending sparks over my skin. "Whats wrong, Elijah? Cat got your tongue?"

I narrow my eyes at him, determined not to let him win this little game. I lean closer, my lips brushing against his ear. "Mybe I just like letting you think you're in control."

The way he inhales sharply is enough to make me grin. But before I pull away, he rolls us over pinning me beneath him, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

"You're playing with fire," he growls softly, his eyes blazing as he stares down at me.

"Good thing I'm a flame," I shoot back, and my breath is hitched when his lips find me again, this time more insistent, more demanding.

We stay like that for a while, trading kisses and soft touches, teasing and challenging each other until the outside world felt like it didn't exist.

Eventually, he pulls back, his hand brushing my hair away from my face. " we need to get going soon."

I groan, burying my face into his chest. "Do we have to?"

He laughs, a deep, genuine sound that makes my heart aches. " unfortunately, yes, but don't worry Fiammetta. We've got plenty of time to make mornings like this a habit. "

The way he said it, so confident and sure , made my heart skip a beat. And for the first time in a long time. I didn't feel afraid of what might come next.

After a while ,Dante leaves the room to take a call, I finally force myself out of bed. The ache of my body reminds me of the events of last night, making my cheeks heat with every step I take. I'm not used to this—whatever this is—but I've decided to just roll with it for now.

Stretching, I make my way to the bathroom, grabbing a towel along the way. That's when I see it–the closet. Or more specifically what is inside the closet.

I freeze, staring at the array of clothes that definitely aren't mine. Designer shirts, pants, shorts, jackets, and even shoes lined in the shelves and hangers. My first thought was they belong to somebody else. But then I notice the tags—some still attached –then I realized they are all in my size.

What.The.Actual.Hell?

"DANTE!" I call out, my voice sharp.

He appears in the doorway a moment later. A smirk already forming on his face. "You called, Fiammetta?"

"Whats all this?" I gesture widly at the closet.

He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Clothes "

"I can see that" I snap, turning to glare at him. "Why are there new clothes in your closet that are my size?"

He shrugs, completely unfazed by my growing irritation. "Because you're gonna need them."

I stare at him, my Jaw dropping. "No, I won't. I have clothes, clothes that I bought, clothes that I like."

His smirk widens."Well now you have more."

"Dante," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. "This is not normal. Do you know what normal people do? They ask before buying someone an entire new wardrobe."

"I'm not normal, " he says simply, his tone infuriatingly smug.

"No kidding." I huff, gesturing at the closet again. "You're psycho!"

His dark eyes gleam with amusement as he steps closer. "You're the one who turns me into one, Fiammetta"

My stomach does a weird flip at his words, but I refuse to let him see how flustered I am. "You can't do things like this Dante.  Its—"

"Crazy?, scary?" He interrupts, his voice low and teasing as he closes the distance between us. "All true."

"Psychotic." I corrected, crossing my arms.

He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. " Mybe. But you don't seem to mind."

I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of how close he is. "I mind," I say weakly, my voice lacking conviction.

"Liar," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.

For a moment, I  forget how to breathe, his gaze intense, his smirk softening into something almost affectionate. I hate how easily he cal unravel me.

"You're impossible, "I mutter, pushing past him and walking  towards the bathroom.

"And yet, here you are," he calls after me, his tone annoyingly triumphant.

I slam the door shut, but I could still hear his low chuckle through the wood.