His Maid, His Obsession

Sacrifice...

Ken’s jaw clenched as he ran a frustrated hand through his already disheveled hair. His voice was sharp, laced with an anger he didn’t quite understand.

"They were talking bad about you, Jennifer!" he yelled, his fists clenching at his sides. His knuckles were still bruised from the earlier fight, but he didn’t care. All he could see was her—standing there, calm, unaffected, as if their words meant nothing.

Jennifer sighed, placing the first aid kit on the bedside table. "I know," she said, her voice steady. She reached for his injured hand, but he pulled it away.

Ken scoffed, stepping back, his eyes narrowing. "Then why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you fight back?" His voice was rough, but beneath it was something else—something desperate.

Jennifer looked up at him then, her expression unreadable. "Because words don’t matter, Ken," she said softly. "They can say whatever they want. It doesn’t change who I am."

Ken let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "Doesn’t change who you are? They spoke about you like you were something to be bought and sold. Like you weren’t—" His voice caught, and he looked away, swallowing hard.

"Like I wasn’t yours?" Jennifer finished, her gaze unwavering.

Ken’s breath hitched, his fists trembling. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to scream that she was his, that no one else had the right to speak about her that way. But instead, all he could do was stare at her—at the woman who had walked into his world, into his chaos, and somehow managed to stay untouched by it.

Jennifer sighed, reaching for his hand again. This time, he didn’t pull away. She cleaned his wound with careful, practiced movements, her touch soft against his rough skin.

"You can’t fight everyone, Ken," she murmured. "Not over me."

Ken exhaled sharply. "Watch me," he muttered, his voice low, dangerous.

Jennifer’s lips pressed into a thin line. "And if one day, you can’t win?"

Ken tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "Then I’ll make sure they never win either," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, they just stood there. The tension between them thick, suffocating. Jennifer’s fingers curled around his, her grip gentle yet firm.

"You don’t have to fight for me, Ken," she whispered.

Ken swallowed hard, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. "Too late," he muttered. "I already am."

Jennifer frowned, her hands clenched into fists as she glared at Ken.

"You think picking fights and shooting people makes you some kind of hero?" she snapped, her voice firm but laced with frustration. "I don't need you to fight for me, Ken! I can handle myself!"

Ken's jaw tightened, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and something deeper—something raw. "Are you serious right now, Jennifer?" he yelled, stepping closer. "They were treating you like a damn object! I wasn’t gonna stand there and let them talk about you like that!"

Jennifer shook her head, her voice rising. "And what did you do? Shoot your way out of it? That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?! Guns, threats, violence! You can’t fix everything that way, Ken!"

Ken let out a bitter laugh, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Oh, so what was I supposed to do, huh? Just let them? Let them humiliate you? Sell you like some f*****g prize?!" His voice cracked slightly, and Jennifer could see the way his hands were shaking.

"You don’t get it, do you?" she said quietly, her eyes softening for just a second. "This life you live… It only leads to blood and regrets. You can’t protect me, Ken. Not like this."

Ken clenched his fists, his breath uneven. "I don’t care what it takes… I’m not letting anyone lay a damn hand on you," he muttered, his voice dangerously low. "Even if you hate me for it."

Jennifer swallowed hard, looking away. "That’s the problem, Ken… You never think about what I want."

Ken’s eyes darkened. "And what do you want, Jennifer?" he asked, stepping even closer, his voice a mix of frustration and desperation.

For a moment, Jennifer didn’t answer. Because deep down… she wasn’t sure anymore.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice lower than usual, almost dangerous. “Why did you like him?”

Jennifer froze for a second, gripping the edge of the counter. She knew who he meant.

“Kai?” she asked softly, not turning around.

“Who else?” Ken snapped, pushing off the wall, stepping closer. “What was so special about him?”

Jennifer inhaled, steadying herself. "He was kind. He listened. He never made me feel small."

Ken let out a cold chuckle, shaking his head. “So, everything I’m not?”

Jennifer finally turned to him, her eyes meeting his. “Everything you don’t let yourself be.”

Ken stared at her, something flickering behind his anger—something raw. “And yet,” he murmured, stepping even closer, “you’re still here.”

Jennifer swallowed hard, heart pounding. “Maybe," she whispered, "I see something in you too.”

Ken slammed his hands against the wall, trapping Jennifer between his arms. His breath was uneven, his eyes dark with something wild—something desperate.

“I am brutal, Jennifer,” he growled, his voice thick with anger and something deeper. “I am strong. I am a monster.”

Jennifer held her ground, staring up at him, refusing to show fear.

Ken leaned in, his lips just inches from hers. “But I love you.” His voice broke slightly, just for a second, before the steel returned. “And I won’t let anyone touch you. Ever.”

Jennifer swallowed, feeling the intensity in his words. "Even if that monster ends up hurting me?" she whispered.

Ken’s jaw tightened. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer, his fingers firm yet trembling. “I’d rather destroy myself first.

She grabs his hand firmly and places it over her heart, looking straight into his eyes with an unwavering gaze.

"Listen to me, Ken," she says sharply, her voice cold but clear. "You need to leave the mafia. No more games, no more excuses. If you do this, if you walk away from all of this, I’ll marry you. But if you don’t, don’t even think about it."

Ken feels the weight of her words. He’s used to power, control, and the dangers of the mafia life, but Jennifer’s gaze cuts deeper than any threat he’s faced.

Her grip on his hand tightens, a clear sign that she’s not negotiating. This is a deal, and there’s no turning back

Ken stares at her, his face conflicted but determined. He pulls his hand away from her grasp and looks her in the eyes.

"I want both," Ken replies coolly, his voice laced with challenge. "I want you... and I want the mafia. I’m not ready to let go of either."

Jennifer’s expression hardens. She knew this might come, but hearing it still stings. Her eyes narrow, and she steps back, making it clear that this is not a simple decision.

Ken, unable to hold back his emotions, grabs Jennifer’s neck gently but firmly, pulling her closer. His voice is intense, but there's a soft pleading in it.

"Marry me," he says, his grip tightening just slightly. "If you marry me... I’ll leave the mafia for you. I swear."

Jennifer looks at him, her eyes still hard, but there's a flicker of something else—something that shows she might be tempted. She stands still, not breaking eye contact, but her jaw tightens in response.

Ken, sensing the moment, continues with raw emotion, "I can’t lose you. I’ll leave it all behind, for you."

Jennifer pulls back, eyes narrowing, her resolve unshaken. "Prove it," she says coldly, her voice sharp. "Leave the mafia... then we’ll talk."