Obsessed and Betrayal
695 Words
Mitchell couldn't resist him. No matter how hard she tried to suppress it, the pull toward Danny was undeniable, consuming. It started with stolen glances, then late-night meetings in the dimly lit hallways of her father's mansion, and before she knew it, it became a hunger—an addiction.
To her, Danny was perfection. 6'5", broad shoulders, sculpted muscles that flexed with every move. Those piercing gray eyes, the kind that held secrets, pain, and danger. His jawline was sharp, his lips sinful, and his hair—a perfect mix of dark and silver strands—gave him an untouchable allure. He was unlike any of the men in her world, unlike the cruel, bloodthirsty mafia lords she grew up around. He was calm, quiet, but when provoked, a beast lurked beneath his surface. And that beast… that raw power… it made her crave him even more.
Every night, she found herself in his arms. It wasn’t just lust—it was something darker. She was obsessed. Her body burned for him, her mind tormented by thoughts of him. The way he touched her, the way he took control—dominant, rough, yet so intoxicatingly addictive. He became her escape, her secret, her sin.
But to Danny? She was just a means to an end.
He played along, indulging in her obsession, making her beg, making her fall deeper… all while keeping his own emotions locked away. He reminded himself why he was here. He was on a mission. This wasn’t love. This was survival.
Yet, things started to shift when other women began noticing him.
The mansion was crawling with harlots—women who belonged to the mafia, women who knew their only worth was in their bodies. And Danny, with his unearthly beauty and silent dominance, became a target.
They threw themselves at him, craving his attention, desperate to be the one he took to his bed.
Mitchell saw it all. She saw the way they whispered about him. The way they stared. The way they giggled when he passed by.
And worst of all? Her father encouraged it.
“A man needs to feel like a man,” Abraham Lucas smirked one evening, watching as a group of women eyed Danny like he was prey. “Take any of them, boy. Let loose. No one will judge you.”
Mitchell’s blood boiled. She felt sick, rage clawing at her chest. Danny was hers. Hers. And she refused to let anyone take what belonged to her.
The fights between them became more frequent. Jealousy. Possessiveness. Lust.
One night, she cornered him in his room, slamming the door shut.
"You like them, don’t you?” she hissed, her chest rising and falling with fury.
Danny, sitting on the edge of his bed, ran a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” she snapped. “I see the way they look at you. I see the way my father practically offers them to you like some prize. Do you want them, Danny?”
He smirked, standing up, towering over her. “And if I did?”
The slap echoed through the room. Sharp. Loud. Brutal.
He grabbed her wrist before she could move away, his grip tight. “Careful, princess,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “You forget your place.”
"And you forget yours," she shot back, chest heaving. "You’re mine, Danny. No one else can have you."
A dark chuckle left his lips. “Oh, Mitchell… you think you own me?” He yanked her closer, his breath hot against her skin. “You have no idea what I am.”
Before either of them could say another word, there was a knock at the door.
A guard entered, bowing his head. “Miss Lucas, your father wants to see you. It’s urgent.”
Mitchell swallowed, stepping back.
“What is it?”
“Your future husband has arrived.”
Her heart stopped.
Danny’s expression didn’t change. Not a single flicker of emotion.
But deep inside, something dangerous stirred.
Because now, the game was truly beginning.
- Writer
