A MAFIA LOVER: His Favourie Mistake

Fallen

At class, Elizabeth settled into her seat, the excitement of the day’s lecture bubbling beneath her composed exterior. Just as she prepared to focus, a group of girls approached, their expressions painted with scorn.

"Hey, are you Lee Know's girlfriend?" One scoffed, her words dripping with disdain.

Elizabeth looked around, bewildered. "Are you talking to me?" The question slipped out before she could temper her disbelief. The girl’s eyes narrowed, anger flaring instantly.

"Don’t you dare. I heard you’re poor, so don’t act all rich, bitch." The venom in her voice was palpable.

Just then, Lee stepped into the classroom, his presence cutting through the tension like a knife. He sat beside Elizabeth, casting a pointed glare at the girls. "You got a problem with her?" His tone was flat, but the underlying demand for respect was unmistakable.

“No, of course not! She looks so cute, and her dress really gives humble vibes.” The girl laughed mockingly, her friends joining in, but Lee only shook his head in disapproval.

"Well, at least she doesn’t flaunt her skin like you and your bee friends." He turned his attention back to Elizabeth, completely ignoring their taunts.

Later that day, Elizabeth caught up with Lee, her heart racing. "Hey, thanks... for what you did earlier. It meant a lot to me. And I’m sorry about yesterday."

"Nah, I should be the one apologizing. Sometimes, I can’t control what slips out." A charming smile lit up his face.

"Well, you really should learn," she teased, a light laugh escaping her lips.

"Want to grab a bite? There's a restaurant everyone’s been raving about." His invitation was laced with hope.

"I’ll pass for today. I’m busy sorting things out, but I’m free tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, then," he declared without hesitation, the finality in his voice making it feel like a promise.

Meanwhile, in the grand confines of Martin’s mansion, he sat in his study, absorbed in the details of Elizabeth's life. "So she’s from Scotland? Twenty years old, and her parents are divorced? Her father was caught abusing her?" He questioned his secretary, his tone shifting from curiosity to a weighty concern. "Sexually, or just... beating?"

"Just beating, sir," the secretary replied, cautious of the dark storm that loomed in Martin’s eyes.

"So, is this all you managed to find?" Martin asked, his voice thick with frustration.

"It's the only information we could gather. Her community is exceptionally protective of her," the secretary admitted, feeling the pressure of Martin’s scrutiny.

"So she’s a good girl? That’s why they protect her?" Martin echoed, his tone bordering on possessive.

"We don’t know for sure, sir," the secretary said, unsteady under Martin’s intense gaze.

Martin stood abruptly, tension crackling in the air as he approached his secretary. "I pay you to do a simple job, yet here we are. Just basic information. Do you not understand that hobbies, favorite flowers, foods, pets, and allergies are crucial?"

"We will try—" the secretary began, but Martin cut him off, irritation igniting in his voice.

"Always trying your best yet still underperforming. Get out. Now!" The command echoed in the silent room, his authority leaving no room for argument. The secretary hurriedly bowed before retreating, the weight of Martin’s frustration hanging in the air.

As days passed, Elizabeth ventured to a nearby store, her mind preoccupied as she accidentally collided with one of Martin’s security personnel. "Sorry, I wasn’t looking." Panic washed over her as she realized her lip balm had left a stain on his pristine suit. "Oh no, my lip balm!" She fumbled for her handkerchief, trying to clean the mess.

The security guard stepped back sharply, a look of disdain on his face. "No, don’t. Move away from me," he said coldly, brushing off her concerns.

Before Elizabeth could plead with him, Martin emerged from the store, a predatory gaze settling on them. "What’s going on here?" His voice dripped with authority as he assessed the situation, irritation flashing in his eyes at the sight of his guard interacting with her.

"Are you his boss?" Elizabeth asked, oblivious to the gravity of his presence.

“Yes,” he replied, his tone unnervingly sweet, more unsettling than she realized.

“Oh, I see, goodbye then." She turned to leave, unaware of the deeper currents swirling between them.

Martin's gaze hardened, the wheels in his mind turning. "From now on, whenever you see her, you greet her. Offer help with anything she is struggling with." His voice was cold and commanding, leaving no room for dissent.

"Yes, sir," the security guard replied, but Martin’s steely demeanor left no doubt that he would enforce his new order with the weight of his obsession.

The next evening, an air of anticipation hung thick as a fog over the city. After class, one of the girls announced, "Party at my house tonight, guys. Dress code is all black, think late 90s vibe. You’re all invited.” Her voice was both casual and commanding. “The party kicks off at 8:30 pm and wraps when you decide to leave—or not.”

Lee cast a sidelong glance at Elizabeth, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Are you going?" he asked, his tone laced with encouragement.

Elizabeth hesitated, her gaze drifting. "I don't know."

“Come on, Liz! I get it, you’re hesitant, but you have to make a choice. You’re the only girl in our class who doesn’t go out, doesn’t drink, doesn’t mingle. Don't you think your life’s a bit… dull?” His words were gentle yet insistent, like an unyielding tide.

With a sigh, she relented, “Fine, it’s kinda boring. I’ll show up, but I’ll arrive fashionably late. And you don’t have to worry about picking me up.” Her resolve was firm, a shimmering thread of independence woven into her voice.

“Great! Just be there, okay? I’ll catch you later!” He waved, a sense of triumph lighting up his features. Elizabeth smiled in response, feeling the warmth of friendship for the first time in ages.

--

Later that night, Elizabeth found herself walking through a dimly lit alley, a sense of unease prickling at her skin. The moon hung low, casting long shadows, and when she tried to call Lee, the call went straight to voicemail. That’s when she heard the commotion, a group of men, a near feral energy radiating from them as they surrounded a lone man, fists flying in a brutal dance.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Hey! Leave him alone!” she called out, her voice surprisingly steady despite the flutter of fear in her chest. “Back off, or I’ll call the police!”

They turned, eyes narrowing, allowing a beat of silence to fall. In that split second, the man being attacked caught a glimpse of her fearlessness. He swiftly shielded her with his body, a silent declaration of protection.

But just as it seemed the tide would turn, a low growl of engines roared to life from the other end of the alley. A gang of men—bigger, meaner, cloaked in leather—stormed in, and the attackers bolted like shadows chased at dawn.

Elizabeth’s heart raced—not just from the adrenaline, but from the sheer audacity of it all. She was standing in the middle of chaos, surrounded by the remnants of what felt like a mafia standoff, right in her neighborhood. And all the while, the stranger remained protectively close, a guardian in a world that had dangerously shifted around them.