The Mafia Prince's obsession (MM)

Elijah

The car speeds down an empty road. The tension in the car is suffocating, wrapping around my chest like a vise.

My arms are crossed, my nails digging into my skin as I stare out the window, his reflection on the glass showing a face tight with frustration.

I don't have to glance at him to know he is angry —his grip on the steering wheel tight, his knuckles white, his jaw locked.

As I stare ahead, I clench my fists. "Dante, this isn't the way home, " I say, my voice firm, but there is an edge of uncertainty beneath it. I hated that. "Take me home."

"We need to talk."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you."

"Too bad," he shoots back. "You have to, and you will."

I scoff, shaking my head. I turn my gaze back to the window, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. I wrap my hands around me, my body rigid with frustration.

This is unfair.

Everything is unfair.

I don't know why he's acting like this, why he's dragging me away as if his feelings matter, as if this isn't already set in stone. The wedding is gonna happen. I have no right to be upset about it, and I know that.

So why does it hurt so much?

The drive feels longer than it should, stretching endlessly between the unspoken words neither of us wanted to say.

By the time Dante pulls up in front of a familiar wooden cabin, I have had enough.

I throw the door open and storm out, my feet crunching against the gravel as I make my way inside, my emotions bubbling over.

"Elijah," Dante calls after me, his voice exasperated but not unkind. "Elijah, can we just talk?"

My breathing is unsteady as I spin around.

"Talk about what?! Huh?" I snap. My voice waveres, but I don't care. "Talk about how you're getting married? How I'll soon turn into a distant memory?"

His expression darkens, but nor with anger –something else, something unreadable.

He takes slow steps towards me.
"Do you really think I could forget you?"

My heart clenches painfully. I want to believe Dante, want to reach for the words and hold them close, but how can I?.

I let out a shaky breath, my voice softer now. "I don't know," I murmur, shaking my head. "You tell me."

He closes the distance between us in an instant, his large hands coming up to cradle my face with gentleness that makes my breath hitch.

"Baby, I will never leave you," he whispers. "I don't care how complicated this gets, I want you."

My hands tremble as they come up to rest over his, gripping them as if I'm grounding myself. My chest aches, and I can feel the sting of tears behind my eyes.

"I don't like what's happening, Dante, " I admit, my voice barely above whisper. "We were never supposed to start this, but it happened. And hearing our parents say the wedding is next week...." My breath hitches. " It made my heart ache."

Dante's jaw clenches, his thumbs brushing soothingly over my cheeks.

"Fiammetta, you don't have to worry about our parents," he says, his voice filled with conviction. "I'll take care of this."

I let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking my head slightly in his hands.

"You keep saying that, Dante,  but I don't think there's anything we can do about it."