Obsessed, He Spoils Me Rotten

♦ Olivia's Pov♦

The dining room of the Rossi mansion was grand. A table that could seat twenty, though only four of us sat at it tonight.

My father at the head. My mother to his right. Beatrice across from me, perfect as always.

And me. The unwanted one. The difficult one. The disappointment.

I knew something was wrong the moment my father cleared his throat. He only did that when he was about to deliver bad news. When he was about to break something. When he was about to destroy someone's life.

Usually, it was mine.

"Olivia," he began, his voice cold and final. "You're marrying Diego De Luca."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

I dropped my fork. It clattered against the porcelain, loud in the silent room.

"What?"

My father didn't even look at me. He was already bored with the conversation. "The De Luca family has agreed to the arrangement. The wedding is in three weeks."

"But... I don't even know him."

"You don't need to know him. You need to marry him." He finally glanced up, his eyes hard and unfeeling. "The De Lucas are one of the most powerful families in the city. This merger saves us. Do you understand what that means?"

I stared at him. Saves us. Pttf! As if. He wants to use me as a pawn to save his failing business. Save his precious reputation. Save the Rossi name from bankruptcy.

We were rich. We'd always been rich. But my father had made terrible investments. Bad decisions. He'd gambled with the family fortune, not in casinos, but in boardrooms. And he'd lost. Spectacularly.

Now he was desperate. And I was the price.

My mother sat beside him, silent as always. She never defended me. She never defended anyone. She just nodded and looked away, like she'd learned to do decades ago.

"Why me?" I whispered. "Why not Beatrice?"

My sister looked up from her plate. Perfect Beatrice. Beautiful Beatrice. The daughter who followed every trend, said every right thing, charmed every wealthy family at every gala. She was twenty-six, still unmarried, still waiting for the perfect match. Our parents were saving her for someone even better. Someone worthy of her perfection.

She didn't even look guilty. She just smiled, a small, smug smile that made my blood boil.

"Diego De Luca is..." Beatrice paused, savoring the words. "...complicated."

"Complicated," I repeated flatly.

"He's dangerous," my father said, finally meeting my eyes. "He's a cold man. Ruthless. He doesn't smile. He doesn't joke. He doesn't play games." He paused. "Beatrice deserves better than that."

I laughed. It was bitter and sharp. So Beatrice deserves better. But I don't.

I'm the one who gets sacrificed to the monster.

"Surely you know the rumors," Beatrice added, her voice sweet as poison. "They say he killed his own uncle to take control of the family. They say he's buried men alive. They say he's responsible for at least a dozen deaths. No one knows for sure, of course. But everyone knows he's not... normal."

"Normal," I echoed. "You mean he's a monster."

"He's a businessman," my father corrected. "A ruthless one. That's what makes him powerful. That's what makes this alliance valuable."

I looked at him. "And you're giving me to him."

"For the good of this family," he said. "For the good of your mother. For the good of Beatrice."

"Don't pretend you care about any of us," I spat. "You only care about yourself. About your reputation. About your precious money."

"Olivia!" my mother finally spoke. "Watch your tongue."

"No." I pushed my chair back and stood. "You watch yours. You never defended me. Not once. Not when he lost millions in bad investments. Not when he called me useless. Not when Beatrice got everything while I got nothing. So don't pretend to care now."

My father slammed his fist on the table. "You will marry him. There is no discussion. No negotiation. You will do what's required of you for once in your useless life."

"Useless." I laughed again. "That's what I've always been to you, isn't it? Useless. Unwanted. Disposable."

"Olivia—" Beatrice started.

"Don't." I turned to her, my eyes blazing. "Don't you dare pretend you care. You get to stay. You get to wait for the perfect husband. You get to be saved while I'm thrown away. So save your pity."

Beatrice's eyes narrowed. "You always do this. Always play the victim. Always—"

"What? What do I always do?" I screamed. "I don't follow trends. I don't worship the ground you walk on. I don't act like a good little society puppet. That's what you mean, right? I'm not useful to them. I'm not useful to you. So I get thrown away."

"You're dramatic."

"I'm done." I walked out. I didn't look back.

***

The night air hit my face as I stormed through the front doors. The chauffeur called after me, but I ignored him. I needed to walk. I needed to breathe. I needed to escape the suffocating walls of that house.

My heels clicked against the pavement as I walked through the city streets. The lights of the expensive shops blurred past me. The sound of traffic faded into the background.

I was going to marry a monster.

A cold. Ruthless. Dangerous man who'd killed his own family.

I was being sold to save a family that had never wanted me.

And Beatrice. Oh so perfect, precious Beatrice got to stay.

I walked faster.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself at my favorite cafe.

It was small and tucked away on a quiet street. Not the kind of place my family would ever visit. That was why I loved it. It was mine. A tiny corner of the world where I could be myself.

The bell above the door chimed as I entered. The warm smell of coffee and fresh pastries wrapped around me like a hug.

"Olivia!" The barista, Maria, smiled at me. "Late night?"

"Something like that." I forced a smile. "Can I get my usual?"

"Coming right up."

I found my usual table in the corner and collapsed into the chair. My hands were shaking. My eyes were burning with tears I refused to shed.

Three weeks.

In three weeks, I'd be Mrs. Diego De Luca.

I'd be trapped in a house with a man who'd never smiled. A man who'd killed his own uncle. A man who buried people alive.

The rumors swirled in my head. Diego De Luca. The Deadliest Man Alive. He doesn't smile. He doesn't joke. He doesn't play games. He kills without remorse. He's a predator in a thousand-dollar suit.

My hands trembled as I tried to steady them.

"You look like you need this," Maria said, placing my order on the table.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"You okay?"

"Fine." I forced another smile. "Just tired."

She nodded and walked away.

I stared at my coffee. At the foam. At the tiny heart design. It was my favorite. The thing that always made me smile.

Today, it just made me want to cry.

I was still staring at the coffee when I stood up to leave.

I'd barely taken two steps when my heel caught on the leg of the table. My body tilted forward. The tray with my coffee and pastry went flying. My heart lurched.

This is it. This is how my night gets even worse. I braced myself for the impact of the floor. But it never came.

Instead, warm hands caught me. Steady. Strong. Unyielding.

I didn't hear the crash of my tray hitting the ground. I didn't feel the impact of the fall.

I just felt... him.

And then I realized why I hadn't heard anything. When I looked up, I saw my coffee cup sitting perfectly in his other hand. Not a drop spilled. My pastry balanced on top. Like he'd caught it without even thinking.

"Careful," a voice said. Deep. Smooth. Like velvet wrapped around steel.

I blinked. My heart was pounding. My breath was caught in my throat.

I looked up. And I saw his eyes. Dark. Intense. Like the night sky.

They were the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen.

And they were staring at me like I was the only person in the world.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe.

I just stared at him.

Him. The stranger with the impossible reflexes and the eyes that made my heart stop.

He smiled. Just a little. Just enough to make my knees weak.

"Miss? I think you're safe now."

I finally found my voice. "I... I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. I tripped and I—"

"You have nothing to apologize for." He set my coffee and pastry on the nearest table. "Accidents happen."

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Because suddenly, I realized something. He looked familiar.

The sharp jaw. The dark hair. The expensive suit. The air of danger that surrounded him like a second skin.

I'd never seen his face. But I'd seen photos. Bad photos. Grainy photos. Ones that didn't do him justice.

But the rumors. The stories. The whispers. He doesn't smile. He doesn't joke. He doesn't play games.

He kills without remorse. The Deadliest Man Alive.

My blood ran cold.

"Are you alright?" he asked again. His voice was soft. Gentle. Nothing like the rumors.

I took a step back. "I... I need to go. Thank you for catching me. I'm sorry. I have to—"

I grabbed my bag and fled. I didn't look back. I didn't dare.