His Obsession

Chapter 3

Domiano P.O.V.

These events, parties, torturous get togethers. Whatever people call them are torture as the rooms become more and more full and the air around me heats up with the heat from the magnitude of bodies within this one room, but I’ve never been more in my element. I sat near one of the large windows, her french design mocking me while I looked at the night sky, the freedom that the stars imposed while the whiskey hit my nerves.

I always impose these events on my family- an easy way to invite some of our worst enemies into our arms while we study them and I figure out my next counter move. I sipped on the aged expensive whiskey while I convinced myself I was up for another round of these events, the fake conversations and mental strain of figuring out the lies from the facts. The room was decorated with some fancy painters work that decorated one fo the walls- the art a direct reflection of the drama that swirled through the room tonight, but in a much different tune. My sister convinced my brothers and I that the lilies that decorated the room in small crystal vases would add to the fragrance of the room with the notes of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

Everything that my family and I picked, crafted and planned out within the room was meant to show the beauty and power that comes with being part of the socialite class instead only highlighted how deeply they are puppets imprisoned within the walls of my power. Everything that decorated the mansion- fueled the untapped power of my family’s wealth, dark and mysterious power pulsated through the mansion. I like to think that I am different from the dark and mysterious power that I am walking through tonight, but it would be a lie that I don't have the energy to tell. I am mysterious and dark but cold and calculated in every move that I make.

I chose a french design for the mansion, the skyline highlighting the surreal beauty and elegance of the french. The monsters of the city come out to play behind there luxurious suits and kind eyes while they rob you guests of everything that they hold dear. I have visit some of the most luxurious cities all over the world but there is something lethal about chicago. The animalistic and untamed challenge of the chicago river as it snakes its way through the city landscape in a passion of steel-greys. It wasn’t just the way that the river decimated everything within it’s path, it’s the noise- the flow of the river, it mirrored my own relentless and untamed pursuit for power within the elite class.

When I was thrusted into this world that my dad left behind after his murder, I was warm. I remember when I look at the pictures that my mom had kept that are now in some dusty closet, I had a big warm smile and there was an innocence in my eyes- all of it was murdered within one day. Mom always said that she didn’t want this life for us, she used to scream and beg dad not to put this on us, not to make us the monsters that lurked in the dark but he did it anyway.

Part of me is glad that she is gone. She died after meeting a much similar fate to my father, except she died in a fatal car accident instead of being shot down. She didn’t have to see the monsters that each of her children became to keep our family fortunes, the way each of us sold our souls. My gaze had sharpened over the years as I navigated the treacherous currents of the underworld.

It’s part of why I was standing over here instead of being in the middle of crowded room. I could trust my brothers and sister to keep an eye on each other with the amount of security that we had in the room. For every visitor there was an additional three security men from my mafia, men that will bleed and die for me. I swept through the room and took note of each guest, each victim in the mansion. My eyes swept through the crowd until it stopped, the air in my body left while I looked at this woman. My gaze lingered, longer than I will ever be willing to admit to anybody, she wore a dark red dress- wine colored, I think. Her back was to me as she entertained a conversation with two of the most ruthless in Chicago, two men that completely despise each other. I wonder what she could have said to make those two stand so close to each other?

The dress highlighting the elegant curve of her spine, her petite and slim waist- her body a delicious silent challenge to my control. I shook my head, “Damn, women.” I muttered to myself and went back to cataloging each guest- assessing their worth, their vulnerabilities and most importantly their potential usefulness to me in the future before my focus turned back to her- the woman in the red dress, my vixen.

I wasn’t here for the ‘interesting’ conversations that every single person in here wanted to talk to me about, or the ‘business’ deals that they wanted to strike, I wasn’t even here for some poor artist that made her next big break, thats what I told myself a least. I never look at the art before it’s hung up and displayed at these events, thats my sister’s job but looking at it now- well, I completely understand why she picked thai artist.

I stared at the vibrant painting on the other side of the room when my brother walked up next to me, “ What do you think, Domiano? Does this artist have ‘talent?” Mateo mocked, his frame not much shorter than mine as he stared at the painting as well. There was something raw about the art work, something primal that is rare for people- for artist to capture. It threatened to consume me in the pure passion that it displayed, the way the women within the swirling colors changed. The dark erotic colors swirling together as they outlined the figure of a woman in the height of her passion. The art as interesting and erotic as it is was the backdrop for tonights spectacle- the painting was the grand design- the trap to bring everyone to me with the illusion of something innocent. The art brought together the illusion of a party while the gilded cage was crafted and forced shut, barely containing the raw erotic nature within the room.

The stage set for thai cage with a very different kind of drama in mind- a slow, deceptive, torturous, animalistic, deliberate seduction. A hunt where the prize would be far more thrilling than the simplicity of riches and more exquisite than power.

The air crackled with power when I caught her again, her eyes entranced while she met my gaze with a challenge, a curiosity while her chest rose and fell with a much faster rhythm than considered normal. There was a tension between the two of us, an unspoken attraction that was deeper than just lust. Promises and threats that crackled between the two of us, but neither one of us could look away.

I could feel Mateo and annabelle lingering closely next to me, the constant irritating shadow of them never far away, “ The woman in the red dress. I want everything on her. I want to know what she ate last, where she lives, who her parents are. I want to know what type of flowers she likes. Figure her out, now.” I whispered, sipping on my whiskey while my siblings walked away with a pace as they went to non other than my favorite hire, Henry.