THE MAFIA'S OBSESSION

CHAPTER FIVE

Elena

Hazza wouldn’t let me say no. By the time she was done with me, I barely recognized the girl in the mirror.

The silky red dress clung to my body like it was tailored for me alone, the satin catching the light whenever I shifted. It hugged my curves, the deep neckline teasing a hint of skin, while the slit on the side gave me just enough boldness I didn’t think I had. My dark hair spilled freely down my back, curls soft and alive, bouncing with each movement. Hazza had touched my face with just enough makeup to mask the bruises Daniel had left behind, but not so much that I looked like someone else. For the first time in weeks, I almost felt… beautiful.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Hazza clapped her hands with a grin. “Red’s your color. Every guy’s gonna break his neck tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “You’re exaggerating.”

She ignored me, slipping into her own little black shirt-dress, short and daring, with a cut in front that left little to the imagination. Paired with her black heels, she looked powerful, dangerous even. The opposite of me—timid, careful, still carrying the shadows of Daniel’s rage on my skin.

“Come on,” she said, excitement bubbling out of her voice, “let’s go to De Luca’s club.” She said it like we were about to step into a treasure vault.

My heart stumbled at the name. De Luca. Everyone knew him, though no one really did. The mafia king whose face never appeared in public, only in blurry newspaper photographs with the word Dangerous stamped across them. He was a myth, a warning. And tonight, I’d be walking straight into his world.

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The club was nothing like I expected—it was more.

Gold lights shimmered across crystal chandeliers that hung low from the ceiling. The velvet couches were rich and dark, each one perfectly arranged like a palace lounge. The air carried a mix of expensive cologne, cigar smoke, and champagne bubbles. Every surface gleamed, from the marble floor to the glass walls that framed the city skyline outside.

I’d never been anywhere like it. My world had been Daniel’s dinners, Daniel’s rules, Daniel’s fists. This… this felt like forbidden freedom.

Hazza squealed as soon as we stepped in, already moving to the rhythm of the bass that thumped through the floor. “We’re gonna have so much fun!” she yelled over the music, champagne already in her hand.

She was alive in this place, dancing with strangers, her smile lighting up like the club itself had been built for her. She twirled, her black heels clicking against the marble, her laughter ringing out above the music.

I couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking my head at the silly dance she was doing. I slipped onto a barstool and ordered a shot. The glass was cold in my hand, the liquid sharper than I expected, burning all the way down. But it helped. Even for a moment.

Hazza spun toward me, hair flying, her glass of champagne spilling a little as she raised it high. “That’s my girl! Forget that son of a b***h and enjoy your night!”

Her voice cut through the music, through my heavy thoughts, through the bruises still aching beneath my makeup. And for the first time in weeks, I let myself breathe.

I danced through the night, champagne glass dangling from my fingertips like it was an extension of my hand. The bubbles made me laugh at nothing, made me forget everything—Daniel, work, the bruises hidden under my makeup. For the first time in weeks, I felt light. Free.

I tilted my glass back and gulped down what was left. The burn of the alcohol rushed through me, hot and wild, and I found my gaze wandering across the crowded club. That’s when I saw them.

A group of men in the VIP section—sitting stiff, not laughing, not even pretending to have fun. They looked out of place in a place like this. No fun. None.

I tugged at Hazza’s arm and pointed, forcing her face toward them.

“Hazza… look,” I giggled, my voice slurring.

She squinted through her champagne haze. “He… yeah?”

“No fun,” I said, pouting like a child.

She burst out laughing, pulling at my cheeks. “Maybe they’re working or something, Elena. I don’t know. Go find out.”

My head spun, but the alcohol gave me courage I didn’t have sober. I slipped off my heels and held them in my hands like weapons as I staggered towards the VIP section. My steps were clumsy, but I didn’t care—I wanted to tell those men to get the f**k up and stop looking so lifeless.

As I got closer, I felt it. A stare—sharp, piercing, heavy like a storm cloud pressing down on me. My drunken giggle faltered, my heart thumping as I tried to focus my blurry vision.

And then I saw him.

A man sitting in the middle, his body relaxed but dangerous, his legs crossed as though he owned not just the chair but the entire room. His broad chest rose slowly, his jaw tight. His eyes—those eyes—were locked on me like he’d been waiting for me all night. I swore his hand twitched against the armrest, restless, like he wanted to reach for me. To claim me.

I smiled. I don’t know why—I was drunk, dizzy, but I liked it. For once, I felt seen.

But just as quickly as my pulse quickened, everything shattered.

Because I saw him.

Standing right beside that man. My body froze, my grip on my shoes tightening until my knuckles turned white.

“Daniel…” I whispered.

My fiancé. My nightmare.

His face changed the moment our eyes met. Rage. Panic. Control. He was on me in seconds, his hand gripping my arm so tight I winced.

“What the f**k are you doing here, Elena?” His voice was a growl in my ear, loud enough for me but quiet enough to hide. His grip tightened, hard enough to bruise.

“I—I needed a break, Daniel.” My voice cracked as I tried to pull away. “I just needed a break.”

“You could’ve had your f*****g break at your f*****g house!” His teeth clenched, eyes blazing. His grip was so tight I could feel the blood pulsing beneath his fingers. “You’re pissing me off, Elena.”

Fear shot through me. I knew this tone, this look, this heat under his skin. It always started like this. And the next thing was a slap. A punch. A kick.

Would he really hit me here? In front of all these people?

I lifted my hands to shield my face, my chest rising and falling fast. I wouldn’t let him ruin me here. Not with the makeup hiding the bruises. Not where everyone could see.

And just when I braced for it—when I swore I felt the air shift with his anger—I heard a voice.

Calm. Cold. Commanding.

“Leave her alone.”

The sound cut through the music like a blade.

The grip on my arm loosened just slightly as Daniel stiffened, his eyes darting toward the VIP table. My breath caught. My knees trembled.

Because the voice didn’t come from just anyone.

It came from

him. The man who had been watching me. The man whose stare felt like fire and ice all at once.