The Don's Obsession

The Don’s Claim

Aria woke to silence.

Not the kind of silence that promised peace, but the kind that made the air heavy, pressing down on her chest. Her lashes fluttered, and for a brief, blissful second, she thought she had dreamt it all: the auction, the leering faces, and the cruel way Marco’s hand had pushed her forward like she was nothing more than an object. But when her vision cleared, reality struck harder than any nightmare.

The bed beneath her was too soft, the sheets impossibly smooth, smelling faintly of leather and smoke. The room was vast, gilded with shadows and wealth, with dark wooden walls, floor-to-ceiling windows draped with velvet, and a chandelier that glittered like a cage of stars. It was beautiful, yes, but suffocating, every detail whispering of power that did not belong to her.

Aria sat up quickly, her heart pounding. She wasn’t in her small apartment anymore. She wasn’t free. She was inside the lion’s den.

The memory of his eyes came back first. Cold, merciless, impossibly dark eyes that had claimed her with one look. Dante Moretti. The Don. The man whose name was enough to make grown men tremble.

And now she was his.

The thought made bile rise in her throat. She pushed off the bed, her bare feet touching the cold marble floor. She wore a silk slip she didn’t remember putting on, and the thought of someone undressing her while she’d been unconscious made her skin crawl. She scanned the room desperately for an exit, any exit.

Her gaze fell on the door. Heavy, carved, locked. She could tell even before she tried. But she rushed to it anyway, twisting the handle until her palms burnt. It didn’t budge.

“Going somewhere?”

The voice came from behind her. Deep, velvet, dangerous.

Aria spun around so fast she nearly tripped.

He was there. Dante Moretti leaned casually against the wall, as if he’d been watching her since the moment she woke. He wore black, always black, with his shirt collar open, revealing the edge of a tattoo curling up his throat. His presence filled the room, drowning it, drowning her.

Her stomach twisted with fear, but her mouth betrayed her, words spilling before she could stop them. “Let me go.”

He chuckled, low and amused, like a predator entertained by the audacity of its prey. “You were sold, Bella. And I bought you. That makes you mine.”

“I’m not an object.” Her voice cracked, but she forced it louder. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t I?” He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, each movement calculated. “You’ll find, Aria, that I always get what I want. And I wanted you.”

Her name on his lips sent shivers racing down her spine. How did he know it? Of course he knew; it was his business to know everything.

She backed away as he approached, her heels hitting the edge of the bed. She had nowhere left to go.

His hand lifted, and for a terrifying second, she thought he’d strike her. Instead, his fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with a gentleness that didn’t match the hunger in his eyes.

“You’ve got fire,” he murmured, his gaze burning into hers. “Most break the moment they realise what’s happened to them. But you…you fight. I like that.”

Aria’s skin prickled. She slapped his hand away. “I’ll never belong to you.”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then Dante’s jaw flexed, and the softness vanished from his face.

He leaned in close, so close she could feel his breath against her ear. “Then I’ll make you.”

The door opened suddenly, and Aria flinched. A tall, broad man with a scar across his jaw entered: Enzo, Dante’s right-hand man. He gave Aria a glance, unreadable, before turning to Dante.

“Luca’s men hit one of our shipments,” Enzo reported. “We lost two trucks.”

Dante’s eyes flickered with irritation, but he didn’t look away from Aria. “Handle it,” he said coldly.

Enzo hesitated. “Boss,”

“Do I look like I want to leave her right now?” Dante’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

Enzo’s eyes darted between them before he gave a short nod and left, closing the door behind him.

Aria’s breath caught. He had a war brewing outside these walls, yet he wouldn’t leave her side. That realization terrified her more than anything.

She tried again, desperation clawing at her throat. “Please. You don’t need me. Whatever this is,”

He laughed, dark and humourless. “Need? No. But want? Oh, Bella, I’ve never wanted something this badly in my life.”

Aria’s chest heaved as he stepped back, finally giving her space. His gaze lingered on her, tracing every line of her face as though memorising it.

“Get used to the mansion,” he said finally. “Every corner of it belongs to me. And now, so do you.”

He turned and walked toward the door, his presence as overwhelming leaving the room as it had been when he entered. Before he slipped out, he glanced back, his eyes narrowing.

“Don’t try to run. If you do, the world outside these walls is far crueller than I am. You won’t survive without me.”

The door shut with a heavy click, the lock sliding into place.

Aria sank onto the bed, her whole body trembling. She hated him. She hated his arrogance, his control, and the way he looked at her like she was both prize and possession.

But beneath the hatred, something else pulsed, a dangerous, traitorous awareness she couldn’t fight.

And that terrified her most of all.