His Obsession

Chapter 1

Poppy

The people.

They are everywhere, more than any other exhibit that I have ever done before. The air was suffocating. I tried to make my way through the crowds in their elegant and expensive attire. The air felt so thick and heavy with my future as the art critics pointed at my biggest canvas yet, I moved through the crowd without so much as a touch or a hushed whisper. I was an alien to them, an impostor as I tried to blend in with the women born into this luxury.

Luxury hung in the air as the expensive notes from the alcohol warmed my stomach. My stomach gurgled and twisted from the scent of the expensive wine, it smelled sweet. The notes of the oaky scent lingered and warmed my body, then something so much sweeter came directly after it. I looked around the room as objectively as possible, trying my hardest not to make it obvious to what I was really doing. It was hard to see much with the crowds of people covering every inch of floor but i finally found the sweet smell when there was a break near the tables, decorating the elegant circle tables was lilies entrapped in crystal vases- the epitome of sweet smells.

There wasn’t a single part of me that really belonged at one of his parties, he was the very red flag of everything that I hated and here I am with my art being the center for one of his schemes to be even richer- even more evil. I wasn’t part of the socialite and rich society, I didn’t sit at home and wait for daddy to transfer money into my account.I definitely wasn’t part of the group of women and moms talking snarkily in hushed whispers while they look to see which fo the richest men here they will rob. Part of me hopes they rob him.

Besides my clear loathing of the man whose party I’m attending, everything about tonight set my nerves on fire while I felt the judgement of others piercing into my skin. Everything about this life that I am living goes against everything in my nature- the fancy clothes, hushed whispers, clinking of expensive champagne glasses, the faked… well, everything.

This wasn’t just any ordinary gallery- no this was a physical representation of the gilded cage reserved only for the rich and judgemental. Everything in this room was meticulously hand selected and the display crafted by none other than the elite and rich billionaire himself, Domiano Moretti. The lounge space that occupied the floor of the extensive mansion pulsed with life, a vibrant and almost feverish energy- a stark contrast to the icy cold stare of the man standing within the corner of the wall, and looking out the window. If I didn’t know any better, than it was him.

Everything about the man standing in the corner resembled him. He looks cold and calculating to the point that I feel cold from just observing him, how could anyone sleep with someone so… intense? No, that word feels wrong, his aura is something so much scarier, so much more terrifying than just intense and he is still on the other side of the room.

From the few people than I have interacted with since noticing the deceptively cold and calculating man, I learned that one- my suspicions are correct and that is none other than Domiano Moretti. Two, I learned that staring at that particular man could get me shot, so I tried my hardest to avoid looking at him as much as possible but I couldn’t help it.

I might hate him as much as I hate people who say they are artist because they paint by number but there is something about him that seems like he is both ice and fire. I couldn’t help but feel the impossible weight that he carried for his family as his swept through the crowd and he sipped on the brown liquid in the crystal glass.

“My dear, if you want to be shot. There is much easier ways to do it.” an older gentlemen said, breaking my focus away from mister Moretti for the hundredth time.I darted my eyes away from the older gentlemen as quickly as possible while my cheeks heated up just a tiny bit. I hated more that I was staring at him at all than the simple truth I got caught. If he didn’t want anybody to look at him than why did he chose to be the only individual with a full on swat team with him at all times while he sits next to the window?

He was standing near one of the french windows that decorated the extravagant mansion, it towered over him while the moonlight poured in and illuminated his pale skin. The clear glass illuminated the city as the lights dazzled and sparkled down below us. The black panels breaking up the expensive glass only worked to make the city seem brighter-more alive, like a fragmented jewel.

The chicago river was one of the wild and untamed trademarks to the brutal city. A ribbon that danced wildly through the city and snaked its way through in colors of steel-grey. Its relentless waters flow almost in a direct mirroring of his own relentless and almost primal power that flowed through him, Damiano Moretti was an untamed monster that even the monsters of high society feared. A monster to the monsters.

Everything about him was meant to terrify and instill a level of submission as he walked through the room. Grown men lowered there eyes to the floor and offered him there wives on the off chance for a business deal, his hands rough and calloused from years of man-handling anybody that got in his way. His sharp gaze that he had spent years honing, sharpening and perfecting as he made his riches and life as the cities most competitive business partner burned into my soul as he stared back at me.

Air seemed non-existent as I gasped, feeling the pure fire that raged within his dark green eyes. They threatened to consume me in the very moment but I couldn’t look away, I couldn’t find the strength to pull myself from his pure intensity while my heart stopped in it’s place.