The Mafia Prince's obsession (MM)

Elijah

The hum of the engine fills the car as I stare out the window, watching the city fade into open roads and quiet stretches of trees. A warm bag of takeouts on my lap, filling the car with a scent of grilled chicken and garlic fries.

It wasn't on my plans to meet Dante today. It just happened—like most things with him did. And now we are heading to the cabin.

"You holding that food like it's going to disappear or something," Dante says, one hand lazily gripping the wheel while the other reaches over, and he steals a fry from the bag.

I swatt his hand. "Well, maybe if you don't steal my food, I wouldn't have to guard it like a wild animal. "

He smirks, popping the fry into his mouth. "Fiammetta, you should know by now– I take what I want."

I roll my eyes. He's so annoying.

By the time we reach the cabin, the sun is starting to dip below the trees, casting a golden glow across the porch. We step inside, setting the takeout on the wooden table. The cabin smells like pine and something distinctly Dante.

I unwrap my food, stealing another glance at Dante, who has shrugged off his jacket, and now he's rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"You always bring me here," I say, dipping a fry into the sauce. "Why?"

Dante sits across me, watching me with that unreadable look. "Because it's the only place I can have you to myself."

My breath is caught. I look down, suddenly too focused on my food. "You say things like that too easily."

Dante smirks. "And you pretend not to like it too easily."

Heat creeps up my neck. I grab my drink, taking a sip just to distract myself.

For a while, I  eat in comfort silence, the only sound being the rustle of take out wrapper and occasional scrape of chair. It was too easy, simple.

But then, as always, reality creeps in.

I exhale, pushing my food aside. "Dante," I say, my voice quieter now. "Are you really going to let this wedding happen?"

He doesn't respond right away. He leans back in his chair, fingers tapping against his glass as he studies me.

Then, after a long pause, he smirks. "I always get what I want."

My stomach twists.

It's not just what he said–it how he said it. The absolute certaincy in his voice. Like the wedding doesn't matter. Like nothing could change what he has already decided.

And the terrifying part?

I want to believe him.

I shake my head, standing up. "I should go."

He doesn't stop me. Doesn't argue. Just watches me as I grab my bag and head for the door.

As I reach for the handle, he speaks again, voice soft but firm.

"Don't overthink it, Elijah."

I hesitate.

And without looking back, I step outside, pretending my heart isn't already lost to him.

______________________________________

I stand in front of my bedroom window, arms crossed as I stare out into the dark yard. The house is quiet, apart from the occasional sound of footsteps in the hallway or the distant hum of my mother's voice downstairs.

But in my head, there's nothing but noise.

Dante's words play repeatedly, over and over. I ALWAY GET WHAT I WANT.

what the hell does he even mean?

I asked him directly if he was going to let this wedding happen, and he had smirked, throwing out a cryptic answer like that was supposed to reassure me.

Is he planning to stop it? Or is he stringing me along, keeping me close while still going through with the wedding?

I exhale sharply, racking a hand through my hair, Feeling the heat of frustration building in my chest.

If he thought for one second that I'm going to let myself be some kind of secret, some side piece while he stood next to Maya at the altar—

No. Absolutely not.

I would never allow that.

I push away from the window and throw myself into my bed. The weight of it all is pressed down on me—the wedding, Dante, my own tangled feelings. I hate that he can make me feel so much and give me so little in return.

Mybe I should just leave it all behind.

The thought comes suddenly, uninvited.

Mybe I should just walk away. Let Dante have his damn wedding, let his family push him into the life they want for him, and just—

My phone vibrates on the nightstand.

I turn my head, blinking at the screen. Julie.

without thinking, I grab the phone and answer.

"Hey," I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

"Elie?" Julian's voice is sharp. "Whats wrong?"

I exhale. "Dante."

There is a bit of silence. Then Julie sighs. "Yeah, I figured. What happened?"

I hesitate. I'm even sure how I should explain this. "He....he said something, and now I don't know what to think. I don't even know where we stand."

Julie hums. "What did he say?"

I sit up, running a hand over my face. "I asked him if he was going to let the wedding happen. And all he said was, 'I always get what I want'."

Julie scoffs. "Oh, hell no."

"Right?!" I groan, flopping back to the bed. "Like, what the fuck does that even mean? Is he going to stop it or not? Does he think he can just have me no matter what?"

Julie is quiet for a moment. Then he asks, "Do you think he will actually go through with it? The wedding?"

I open my mouth—then close it.

Would he?

Dante wants me. I know that. I saw it in every glance, felt it in every touch.

But is him wanting me enough?

My chest tightens. "I don't know."

Julie sighs. "Then mybe you need to decide what you want, Elijah?"

I swallow.

That is the real question, isn't it?

What do I want?

And what will I do if Dante doesn't choose me?.