His Crimson Obsession

Chapter ten — A dangerous man

Gabriella’s POV

The bell above the café door chimed—soft, harmless.

I didn’t even look up at first, I balanced two trays of steaming cups, on my hands, the hiss of the espresso machine filled the air. Just another afternoon. Or it should have been.

Then the air shifted. One second,there was chatter and clinking cups. The next—silence.

I glanced up.

And there he was.

The rich d**k. Nigel.

Walking into the café like he owned it. Not hurrying, not searching. Just that sharp, predatory calm. His coat, dark grey, cut to perfection. Raven black hair, jaw carved from stone, piercing blue eyes. He wasn’t even that handsome. Just an eyesore.

“Welcome,” Lisa said automatically from behind the counter. Then froze almost immediately. Her knuckles whitened on the cup she nearly dropped. Even my manager, usually gruff and unshakable, stiffened. Customers whispered, their chairs scraped quietly as people sank lower, as if avoiding his attention.

He radiated power, sure. But he’s just a guy with too much money. What’s there to be scared about?

I set the tray down, wiped my hands on my apron, and stepped forward before my brain could stop me. “What are you doing here?” I snapped, voice cutting through the silence.

His eyes landed on me. Those unreadable, dark-blue eyes.

“I asked you a question,” I pushed, heat in my chest. “Don’t just stroll in here like you own the place. Don’t treat me like—”

I don’t even remember half of what I said. Words poured out, sharp and fast, my pride still raw from him leaving me at Angels Bar without a word and ghosting me for two nights. So I let it all spill.

“—you think money gives you the right to treat people however you want? Not everyone’s going to bow down to you, Nigel. Not me.”

Lisa’s stare burned into my back. The whole café held its breath. Even my manager shuffled forward, panic in his eyes. “Gabriella, enough. Please.”

But I didn’t stop.

Because Nigel didn’t say a damn thing.

He just looked at me. Silent. Expressionless. His stillness only made me angrier.

Finally, when I paused for breath, he lifted a hand—calm, unhurried—and gestured toward the counter. His voice, deep and smooth, cut through the room.

“Coffee. Espresso.”

That was it. No explanation. No defense. Just an order.

I blinked, thrown off by his reply. Lisa scrambled to make it, her hands trembling so hard she nearly spilled the coffee beans. His eyes stayed locked on me the whole time.

When the cup was set before him, he nodded once. Paid. Left.

The bell chimed again as the door closed behind him.

What the hell was wrong with him? Always leaving people standing like that. Infuriating.

---

“Are you insane?!” Lisa hissed, dragging me toward the back room. The manager followed behind, pale as flour. Shutting the door they both stared at me like I’d just set the café on fire.

I yanked my arm free from Lisa's grip. “What is wrong with you two? He’s just some spoiled rich guy. I don’t care who his daddy is. He doesn’t get to walk in here and—”

“Shut up!” Lisa snapped, voice cracking. Her hands shook as she gripped my shoulders. “Gaby… do you even know who that was?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Nigel. Some rich-ass guy who doesn’t get boundaries.”

The manager stepped closer, voice low and sharp. “No, Gabriella. That wasn’t just Nigel.”

Something in his tone twisted my stomach.

“That was Nigel Caruso,” Lisa whispered. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. “The Prince.”

I frowned. “The Prince?”

“The Prince of the underworld,” my manager said grimly. “The heir to the Caruso empire. People don’t cross him, Gabriella. Not if they want to live.”

My pulse stuttered.

Of course I’d heard of the Carusos—stories of shadows, debts, blood. But I’d never cared. Until now.

“At the gala… I thought I saw the Prince. Some random old rich guy. That wasn't him? You mean to tell me the man I insulted, whose car I dented, who I even ripped money off… is actually the mafia prince?”

They both nodded.

“Wait, you dented his car?” the manager asked in disbelief.

“And took his money?”

“He crashed my scooter!” I shot back, defensive.

Lisa looked ready to faint. “Girl, how are you not dead?”

The manager’s voice dropped, urgent. “You don’t understand. Men like him don’t forgive. They don’t forget. You’ve just painted a target on your back. So listen to me, Gabriella—stay quiet. Stay small. If you value your life, do not provoke him again.”

Their words followed me like a curse, echoing louder than the café bell itself.

---

By the time my night shift at Angels Bar started, I’d convinced myself I was fine. Totally fine.

Sure, I’d mouthed off at the Prince of the underworld. Sure, the whole café had frozen when he walked in. Sure, my stomach twisted every time his face flickered in my thoughts.

But still. I wasn’t going to let him scare me.

So there I was, behind the bar, pouring whiskey, humming like nothing was wrong. Almost fooled myself.

Almost.

Until Mario, my manager, appeared at the counter, careful, nervous. “Gabriella,” he said softly. “He wants you.”

My hand faltered on the bottle. “He?”

Mario’s gaze flicked toward the back room. He didn’t have to say it.

Nigel.

My pulse stuttered. My fingers clenched the glass. But I pasted on my best nonchalant smile. Mafia prince, schmafia prince. He doesn’t scare me.

“Fine,” I said, tossing the towel onto the counter. “I’ll be back.”

My steps were light. My heart pounding in my chest.

Inside, Nigel sat in an armchair, coat draped across his shoulders, glass of whiskey in hand. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me. And God, I wanted to claw those eyes out.

“Sit,” he said.

And my body obeyed before my brain could argue.

His brow arched. “Why are you so stiff tonight?”

I forced a shrug, smirk tugging my lips. “I’m not stiff. Just tired.”

A low chuckle escaped him.

Anger burned through my fear. “So tell me—what were you doing at my café this afternoon?”

He swirled the glass lazily. “Grabbing coffee.”

“Yeah right,” I snorted. “Out of all the fancy cafés in the city, you just happened to stroll into the one I worked at. Don’t tell me you were stalking me.”

His expression didn’t change. “Total coincidence.” He smiled, evasive.

I narrowed my eyes. “Really? A rich guy coincidentally shows up in the poor part of town, at the café where the girl he forced into hosting just happens to work? Totally a coincidence.” I poured him more whiskey.

“Totally,” he said smoothly. “What, are you upset I ignored you?”

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my brain. “Please. In your wildest dreams. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He leaned forward, tone dipping lower. “Careful. You’ll make me think you care.”

“I don’t,” I snapped, before I could stop myself. “And for the record, don’t come back to my café. You’ll scare the customers away. Nobody wants to sip lattes next to a deadly mafia prince.”

The words slipped out, before I could stop them..

He laughed—a sound that made the walls feel too close. “Deadly, you say… yet here you are. Alone. With me.”

My jaw tightened. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of a flinch. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a stubborn streak. And a bad habit of telling idiots where to shove it.”

His glass hit the table with a soft clink. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his stare pinning me like a knife. “How fascinating.”

I met his gaze, serious now. “But really. What do you want from me? You’re someone people fear. I’ve clearly pissed you off a dozen times. And yet you’ve done nothing. So tell me—what does the Prince of the underworld want with me?”

His voice dropped, velvet and smoke. “What, are you scared now that you know who I am, hmm, baby girl?”

Heat flushed my neck. “Pfft. Please. You’re not that scary. Just another spoiled prince who thinks the world owes him something.”

Nigel’s smile deepened. “You know,” he murmured, “I think I like it when you insult me.”

My breath caught. My pulse roared. My mouth went dry. But I refused to let him see it. I tipped my chin, smirk sharp as glass. “You might want to find a healthier hobby, then. Because I’m not here for your entertainment.”

He just chuckled. “I don’t know if that makes me a sadist…” His eyes flicked to my lips, then back to my eyes. “But there’s something about the way you look at me. The way you don’t flinch. The way you dare me to break you.”

His head tilted, studying me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve.

“It turns me on.”

My pulse thundered.

His words hung heavy in the air. My retort died in my throat.

He leaned closer, breath brushing my cheek. “In ways you couldn’t imagine.”

I snapped out of it, shoving him back. My blood raced with fear and something else I refused to name.

“This isn’t a game, Caruso. Whatever the hell you think you’re playing at—don’t. I’m not one of your people. I don’t answer to you. And I want no part in your games.”

And for the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Not amusement. Something darker.

I don’t know what he’s playing at, but I know one thing for sure. Nigel Caruso is dangerous, I have to stay away from him or else he'll ruin me.