The Italian Obsession Novels & Stories

he said calmly to the man who looked like a frenchman. Juliet stared wide eyed at him her heart jumping. "Was this man there? Who is this?" Juliet asked herself in fear looking at the red haired man wide eyed. Cario too, a man of few words just pointed Juliet. "She is the culpit" he said with an air of mystery and authority. "Who is this crazy man? Do you know how long i have been with boss rugger? Are you in cohoots with Julius?"

I laughed, but he was on me in an instant, pinning me to the bed, his body a cage of heat and rage. He slid into me, deeper than before, and fucked me with a ferocity that felt like punishment and worship. My pussy stretched, burned, and I screamed, my voice shattering the room. His hand wrapped around my throat, not squeezing, just holding, a possessive claim as he thrust, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re my fucking obsession,” he snarled, his voice deviant, unhinged. “I’ll chain you to this bed, burn every city, to keep you. No one else gets you. Ever.”

“Hope you like Italian.” Lucia leaned on the counter, watching him move with surprising ease. He washed his hands, chopped vegetables, and tossed ingredients into a heated pan. The aroma of garlic and butter began to fill the kitchen. Mafia men were supposed to be brutal and distant. Lorenzo was nothing like that for a man like Lorenzo Salvatore, it was the opposite or his only pretending for today. “I lived in Rome for five years,” he said, catching her watching again. “Learned from the best.”

The last thing I needed was to be on Alessandro's watchlist. “My guest is Mr. Alberto, a visiting Don. He values family ties above all else. He found out I'm married so that's why you'll be accompanying me to this meeting.” I turned back to face him. “Do not mess this up for me, Elena.” His tone of voice was threatening but strangely enough, I didn't feel threatened. Instead, I felt hot, wet and needy. His tone awakened a sensual hunger I never knew existed in me. I should be resistant to, disgusted and revolted with Alessandro but why am I attracted to him every time he looks at me?

“I’m not asking you to forget, Elena. I’m asking you to live. Dwelling on this...” “Stop it!” I interrupted, my voice shaking with fury. “Don’t you dare act like you care about me, You’re just worried about how it looks, aren’t you? The perfect wife of Nicholas De Luca, skipping work? Being a weakling? God forbid it tarnishes your precious image.” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I saw the cracks in his composure. “You are paranoid,” he said quietly, but the defensiveness in his voice betrayed him.

Finally, he says, “You can’t trust Italian men.” I blink. “You’re an Italian man.” “That’s why I know.” I roll my eyes, exasperated. “This isn’t the Mafia, Dante. It’s a tech company. He’s a client, not a rival.” He doesn’t look convinced. “They all start clean until they’re not.” “You’re being paranoid.” He gives a low hum, still watching me. “Maybe. Or maybe I know what men like him see when they look at you.” “Excuse me?”

“Congratulations, Boss!” Without waiting for the celebration, Drake turned on his heel and walked out of the church. Amy followed closely behind, flanked by a sea of suits and heavy artillery. The moment the heavy church doors slammed shut behind them, the priest’s knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the altar floor, completely unconscious. Meanwhile, across the city, the atmosphere was entirely different. Inside the fortified syndicate of the Blood Pact Mafia. The second largest crime syndicate in Italy. Athan, a hardened man in his early fifties, sat high on a leather chair that served as his throne. The air in his private chambers was thick with the pungent, sweet scent of a heavy blunt

Stefano drove calmly in front, glancing at me now and then through the rearview mirror with a slight smile that irritated me. Luca sat beside me, too close. I could smell his fresh soap and a faint woody aroma. It was the second time I'd left the mansion since I arrived in Italy. The city turned out to be beautiful. Old cream and orange buildings lined the cobblestone streets. Green wooden windows with red geranium flowers hung on the sills. People strolled calmly with ice cream in hand. The sound of church bells echoed in the distance. It looked like a fairy tale, but I couldn't enjoy it because Luca wouldn't stop getting closer.

That almost made things worse. "Then what was I?" Dante stared at her with something dark and conflicted moving behind his eyes, like he genuinely didn't know how to answer. In that moment Ariana understood something terrifying, Dante Cole hadn't made that bet because he wanted attention. He'd made it because he was obsessed. But obsession wasn't love. It was hunger, possession, and control, and Ariana had spent her whole life surviving men who wanted ownership instead of understanding. Her father, her ex, and now Dante. Never again.

"The intense chemistry between you two. You'd have to be a special kind of idiot to miss it. I think that's why Enzo got a little carried away." I scoffed. "Why, because he's jealous?" The thought alone was ridiculous. Daniel's dark gaze met mine. "Yes, because he's jealous." "That's insane. Enzo is incapable of feeling anything." "You don't get it, do you? We, Italian men, are insanely possessive over what we deem ours. Once we decide something belongs to us, there is nothing we won't do to keep it." I finished the last of my cocktail and got up from the chair before placing my hand on his shoulder. "Well, in that case, you can be assured Enzo is not jealous, because I'm not his."