The Mafia Prince's obsession (MM)

Elijah

The atmosphere is buzzing with chatter and clicking glasses. Father has invited the Markov's to our house for a family dinner.

These things bore the shit out of me, but I have to be here for Maya.

As always, I can only be found in the corner, keeping a low profile and sipping my drink.

My eyes are wandering around when Mr Roman Markov –Dante's father seeks our attention. He clears his throat, and we all turn our attention to him. His deep voice cuts through the air like a blade as he makes an announcement.

He pats his son on the shoulder and smiles in Maya's direction and proceeds to say, "Me and Mr Vega had a talk and have decided that the wedding will take place next week."

I almost choke on my drink.

Wait—what?

I turn sharply to Maya, and her face has gone pale. Dante, standing not too far from his father, looks just stunned. I guess he didn't know either.

A heavy pit is formed in my stomach. I knew this day would come. I knew Maya and Dante were supposed to get married. But hearing the actual date sends a sharp pang through me. The worst part? I have no right to feel this way. None at all.

My fingers curl into a first. I have no claim over Dante. No right to be mad. But I am.

As I look around, I see Maya arguing with her mother, her voice a mixture of frustration and betrayal. Dante has his usual unreadable mask, but his clenched jaw tells me everything I want to know —he's just as pissed.

I have to get out of here.

The noise, the pressure, the atmosphere, the emotions building inside me–it's too much.

The room is suffocating.

Without another word, I slip out of the mansion, letting cool night air hit me. My pulse is still racing as I walk down the street, hands stuffed in my pockets. I just need to breathe. I need space from everything.

Eventually, I find myself near a quiet bar, tucked away from the more crowded spots. The neon light buzzes softly, and for a moment, I think about turning around.

"Didn't take you for the drinking type, pretty boy."

For a moment, I freeze.

I turn around. And there he is.Vincezo.

He is standing near a sleek black car, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette he doesn't even bother to light. His smirk is lazy, his dark eyes watching me with far too much amusement.

"You again?" I ask, already exasperated.

"Me again, " he confirms, stepping closer. " Didn't think I'd run into you twice in one week."

I scoff. "Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises. "

He tilts his head, eyes flickering with curiosity. "You look like a guy who's trying to escape something. "

I fold my arms. " And what? You think you know me now?"

"Not yet," he admits, stepping just a little too close. " But I'd like to."

His fingers brush a few strands of my hair, tugging it behind my ear, just briefly, but enough to send a strange jolt through me.

I pull back, ignoring the heat that creeps up my neck. "And why should I give a shit about what you want?"

He grins. "Because, pretty boy, I'm a great conversationalist."

I roll my eyes, but before I fire back, a familiar voice cuts through the moment —sharp, cold, and angry.

"Elijah."

I turn around, and there he is—Dante.

His expression is unreadable, but his eyes burn with something I can't quite place. He isn't just angry. He looks...furious.

Vince, ever the picture of calm, gives him an easy smile. "Ah, speak of the devil. Always a pleasure, Markov. "

Dante ignores him completely and turns to me. "What the hell are you doing?"

I frown. " I could ask you the same thing?"

Dante takes a step closer. "I told you to stay away from him."

"And I told you," I snap, " You don't get to tell me what to do."

Vincezo raises his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Markov. We were just talking."

Dante's jaw clenches, his entire body rigid with tension. "I don't give a damn what you were doing. Elijah, let's go."

I cross my arms. "And what if I don't?"

His eyes darken. "Then I'll make you."

Something inside me twists at those words. His tone, his possessiveness —I hate how it affects me.

Vince just chuckles, shaking his head. "Damn. That's quite a grip you've got on him."

Dante turns to him, his glare sharp as a blade. "If you don't shut the fuck up, Vince, I'll do it for you."

Vincezo smirks, clearly enjoying this way to much.

I sigh. "Fine. Whatever."

Dante reaches for my wrist –not rough, but firm, like he's afraid if he lets go, I'd slip away again.

As he pulls me away, I can still Vincezo's gaze on me.

"See you around, Pretty boy." Vince calls after me.

I don't look back.

But I have a feeling this won't be the last time our paths cross.

And that thought unnerved me more than I care to admit.