The Don's Obsession

The First Escape

The house was too quiet.

Aria paced the room long after Dante had left, her bare feet whispering against the cold marble tiles. The walls seemed to breathe with her, mocking her every step, as if they already knew she’d never leave them alive.

But she had to try.

She’d sworn to herself she would never be anyone’s possession, not Marco’s, not Dante’s. She would rather die clawing her way out than rot like a doll in silk sheets.

Her eyes darted to the windows. Thick velvet curtains swayed gently, betraying the faintest draught. She pulled them aside. Beyond the glass, the world stretched out in darkness, with gardens trimmed with a soldier’s precision, stone pathways, and in the distance, high iron gates under the glow of floodlights. Guards moved like shadows, rifles glinting beneath the moonlight.

Her heart sank. But despair couldn’t hold her for long.

Aria’s hands trembled as she searched the room. A vanity table. Heavy, solid wood. She tugged at one of the drawers until the handle snapped off, leaving her with a jagged piece of metal. Crude, but maybe it could pick a lock.

She worked the door for what felt like hours, sweat dripping down her neck, every click of the metal against the lock echoing louder than thunder.

Then, softly, mercifully, it gave way.

Her heart thundered. She eased the door open, peeking into a dimly lit hallway lined with portraits of men who shared Dante’s sharp cheekbones and unforgiving eyes. The Moretti bloodline, no doubt. Even their painted gazes seemed to warn her: no one leaves.

She slipped out barefoot, moving silently, every nerve burning with fear.

The mansion was labyrinthine, a maze of corridors that twisted endlessly. Twice she had to duck behind ornate pillars as men passed, voices low and dangerous. Once, she heard Enzo’s laughter, sharp and cruel, and pressed herself so tightly against the wall she thought she’d vanish into it.

Finally, she found a side door leading out to the gardens. The cool night air kissed her skin, and for a brief second, hope bloomed in her chest. She ran, her breath ragged, the iron gates ahead like salvation.

Then a shadow detached itself from the darkness.

A hand snatched her arm, iron-tight, spinning her around. She gasped as her eyes met the face of a man with a scar carved deep across his jaw. Enzo.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his grip bruising. “The boss did say you were feisty.”

“Let me go!” Aria hissed, thrashing against him.

He smirked. “I don’t think so. The Don would kill me if I let his pretty little prize slip away.”

Aria’s stomach twisted. She was caught.

But then, another voice. Low, furious.

“Release her.”

Enzo stiffened instantly, his smirk vanishing. Dante stood in the pathway, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his eyes burning like hellfire.

Enzo dropped Aria as though she were scalding, stepping back with his head lowered. “Boss, I”,

“Go.” Dante’s tone left no room for argument. Enzo disappeared into the shadows without another word.

Aria’s chest heaved as Dante stepped toward her. His presence was suffocating, a storm rolling in, ready to destroy everything in its path.

She stumbled back, but he caught her wrist, his grip unyielding. “Did you think you could run from me?” His voice was quiet, dangerous in its restraint.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Aria snapped, tears stinging her eyes. “You bought me like I was nothing. You locked me up like, like an animal! I’ll never stay here willingly!”

Dante’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening. For a terrifying second, she thought he might hurt her. Instead, he pulled her against him, his face inches from hers.

“You think you’re nothing?” he whispered harshly. “Then why is it I can’t stop thinking about you? Why is it that out of all the women I could have, I chose you?”

Aria’s breath caught, her heart warring between fear and something far more dangerous: awareness. His scent, smoke and spice, wrapped around her, his heat sinking into her skin.

“I don’t want to be chosen,” she spat, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. “I want to be free.”

His eyes darkened, something raw flickering in them. “Freedom doesn’t exist in my world, Bella. But power does. And I’ll give you more of it than you’ve ever dreamed of if you stop fighting me.”

Aria stared at him, horror and confusion tangling in her chest. He wasn’t just obsessed. He believed he was offering her something greater than freedom.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

For a moment, silence. Then Dante’s lips curved into the faintest, most terrifying smile.

“No,” he said softly. “You hate the way you don’t hate me enough.”

Before she could respond, he swept her into his arms, carrying her back toward the mansion as if she weighed nothing. She beat at his chest, screaming, but his hold didn’t falter. Guards turned their faces away, pretending not to see.

Back in the room, he set her down on the bed, his gaze scorching into hers.

“This is your first and last warning,” he said, his voice low, lethal. “Try to run again, and I won’t be so forgiving.”

The door locked behind him as he left, the sound final, like a judge’s gavel.

Aria curled into herself, her fists trembling against the sheets. He was wrong. She didn’t want him. She didn’t crave his touch.

But the echo of his words haunted her, burrowing deep into places she didn’t dare acknowledge.

And the worst part was, some dangerous part of her believed him.