Possession and Obsession

Please-please, I swear, I didn't mean-" Benny tried begging.

A gunshot cracked through the air, sharp and final.

Dominic didn't blink as the man's body jerked, then slumped against the blood-slick floor. The metallic scent of death mingled with the acrid burn of gunpowder, thick in the cold night air. Smoke curled from the barrel of his gun, the only movement in the sudden, hollow silence that followed.

Dominic exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on the pistol. His pulse wasn't racing. It never did. Killing was a task, like signing a contract or pouring a drink. Necessary. Expected.

Please-please, Dom, I swear I didn't mean to-" Eddie knew he was next as he watched Benny's body slump to the floor.

"You didn't mean to?" Dominic's voice was quiet, almost amused. He tilted his head, watching the man tremble. "You took my money. You ran like a coward. And then you sold my fucking shipment . That's three mistakes, Eddie."

Eddie whimpered, his sweaty face twisted in panic. "I-I had no choice! They threatened my family-"

Dominic crouched in front of him, gun resting against his knee. "I don't give a fuck about your family. You should've come to me."

"I was scared, Dom."

Dominic smiled, slow and humorless. "You should be."

And then he stood, pressing the barrel of his Glock against Eddie's forehead.

The man sobbed, shaking violently. "Please. I have a son-"

Dominic pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the warehouse, sharp and final. Eddie's body jerked before crumpling sideways, blood spilling onto the concrete in a thick, dark pool.

Dominic sighed, wiping a stray drop of blood off his sleeve. He fucking hated it when they begged. If a man was going to die, he should die with some dignity.

The silence after was heavier than before except from the choked whimpers coming from the last man.

Marco.

He was on his knees, shaking like a rat caught in a trap, his back pressed against a table stacked with stolen money-Dominic's money. His face was drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling in frantic gasps. He reeked of fear.

Dominic rolled his shoulders, his muscles still tense, still pulsing with the high of the kill. Blood splattered his knuckles, staining the expensive watch on his wrist. He wiped a smear of red from his face with the back of his hand, unbothered.

"Eddie and Benny are dead," Dominic said, his voice calm, like he was stating a fact.

Marco let out a strangled whimper.

"You're the last one," Dominic continued, his footsteps slow, deliberate. "Which means you get the honor of telling me... what the fuck were you thinking?"

Marco shook his head violently. "D-Dom, listen, it was never supposed to go this far-"

Dominic pulled the trigger.

Boom.

A bullet tore through Marco's shoulder, the force knocking him back against the table. He screamed, clutching at the open wound, blood spilling between his fingers.

"Wrong answer." Dominic crouched in front of him, tilting his head. "Try again."

Marco's breath hitched. His pupils were blown wide, his skin pale as death. "Please, Dom," he sobbed, his voice breaking. "It wasn't my idea, I swear-"

Another shot.

This time, to the leg.

Marco's body jerked violently. His scream was so loud it rattled the rafters.

Dominic sighed. "You're really bad at this."

Blood dripped onto the concrete, the sound eerily quiet against the crackling flames in the background. His men had already set the place ablaze-burning the evidence, the betrayal, the lesson he had just taught.

Marco wheezed, eyes flickering between pleading and realization.

There was no way out.

Dominic pressed the barrel of his gun beneath Marco's chin, forcing his head up until their eyes met.

"Last chance," Dominic murmured. "Tell me something useful, and I'll make it quick."

Tears leaked down Marco's cheeks. His lips trembled. And then, finally-

"It was the Morettis."

Dominic stilled.

For a second, the only thing he could hear was the fire consuming the warehouse, the soft pop of embers devouring the stolen money.

The Morettis.

His family's oldest enemy.

A slow, dark smile curled Dominic's lips. "Now that," he murmured, "is useful."

Then, he pulled the trigger.

Boom.

Marco's body slumped, blood splattering across the stacks of burning cash. The Morettis had played a hand in this? Good. That just gave Dominic an excuse to wipe them off the map.

He turned on his heel and walked out, the flames swallowing up the past hour of carnage behind him.

By the time he got home, the blood had dried, crusting over his skin like war paint.

His penthouse was quiet. But not empty.

"Dominic."

He turned.

His father stood at the top of the stairs, watching him with that same unreadable expression he always wore. The expression that said he already knew everything.

"Come to my office," his father said. "Now."

Dominic exhaled sharply before turning and following his father up the stairs.

The office smelled like whiskey and old leather, the dim glow of the city skyline casting sharp shadows across the bookshelves. Dominic stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

His father sat behind the desk, fingers steepled, his gaze heavy. "Do you know why I called you here?"

"If it's about the Morettis-"

"It is."

Dominic leaned back against the door, crossing his arms. "Good. Then you already know I'm going to kill them."

His father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, Dominic. You're not."

Dominic stiffened. "The hell I'm not."

His father lifted his gaze, sharp and unyielding. "You're not. Because you're going to marry their daughter instead."

Silence.

The words didn't register immediately. Not because Dominic hadn't heard them-he had. But because they didn't make sense.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "That's a joke, right?"

His father's face remained stone cold. "It's already decided. A marriage between the Carusos and the Morettis will solidify our alliance. It will end this war before it begins. It will make us stronger."

Dominic took a step forward, his body coiled tight, fists clenched. "They stole from us," he hissed. "They fucking betrayed us. And you expect me to just-what? Put a ring on their princess and smile?"

"Yes," his father said simply.

Dominic let out a breath. His blood was still hot from the kill, from the fire, from the rage still simmering beneath his skin. And now? This?

"Who is she?" he asked, voice flat.

His father's gaze didn't waver. "Valentina Moretti."

Dominic clenched his jaw. He'd heard the name before. Moretti's only daughter. Kept hidden. Untouched by their business. A pawn waiting to be played.

And now, she was supposed to be his.

"This is fucking bullshit," he muttered, turning toward the door.

His father's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You leave tomorrow to meet her."

Dominic inhaled slowly, then exhaled.

This wasn't over.

But for now? He had no choice.

The Moretti estate was exactly what Dominic expected-a fucking fortress.

Stone walls, cameras at every corner, armed men standing like statues at the entrance. A place built not just for luxury, but for war.

He stepped out of the black SUV, boots hitting the cobblestone driveway with a dull thud. His jaw tightened as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. He didn't want to be here. But the moment he stepped inside, it was clear-they wanted him here even less.

The wind carried the scent of expensive cigars and freshly trimmed hedges, but underneath it all was something else. Rot. Decay. The stench of old power that had begun to sour.

A man In a black suit stepped forward, expression blank. "Mr. Caruso, this way."

Dominic said nothing as he followed him inside. He'd been here before-years ago, when the alliance between their families was strong. Before Moretti had betrayed them. Before the streets were painted in blood.

And now? Now they expected him to marry into this fucking family for peace?

His jaw clenched. If his father thought he would play house for the sake of business, he was sorely mistaken.

The Interior of the mansion was as grand as ever. Marble floors, gold accents, chandeliers dripping with crystals. Opulence built on blood money.

At the center of it all sat Don Moretti himself, nursing a glass of whiskey, watching Dominic with sharp, assessing eyes.

"You came," Moretti said, voice smooth but edged with steel.

Dominic smirked. "You expected me to refuse?"

Moretti chuckled. "No, I expected you to come armed."

Dominic's grin widened. "You think I'm stupid enough to start a war in your own house?"

"I think you're your father's son."

Silence. Heavy, tense. Neither of them trusted the other, but for now, they played the game.

Moretti set his glass down and turned his head slightly. "Valentina.

Dominic followed his gaze, and that's when he saw her.

She stood at the top of the grand staircase, a vision wrapped in defiance.

Her dress was simple-cream-colored silk that clung to her curves without effort. It should've made her look soft, fragile. But it didn't. Not with the way she held herself.

Her hair-chestnut waves cascading past her shoulders-framed a face that was almost too perfect. High cheekbones, full lips, a slight furrow in her brows that told him she wasn't happy to be here either.

But it was her eyes that caught him.

Dark brown, but not warm. Not welcoming.

No, they were sharp. Calculating. A silent challenge.

She's angry.

Dominic knew that look too well. It was the same one he saw in the mirror every morning.

She descended the staircase slowly, controlled. Every step measured, like a soldier walking toward the battlefield.

She stopped a few feet away, her gaze never leaving his. As if she was sizing him up just as much as he was sizing her.

Dominic arched a brow. "So, you're the one I have to marry?"

Her lips pressed together. "Disappointed?"

He smirked. "Depends. You planning on being a pain in my ass?"

She tilted her head slightly, considering. Then, to his surprise, she smirked back. "Are you planning on being one in mine?"

A chuckle rumbled In his chest. Nerve. She had fucking nerve. He liked that.

Moretti cleared his throat. "Valentina, meet Dominic Caruso. Dominic, my daughter."

She didn't move. Didn't offer her hand.

Dominic leaned in just slightly, watching her. "No handshake? What, afraid I'll bite?"

Her eyes flickered with something he couldn't quite place. "Afraid I'll break your fingers."

His grin widened. "I'd like to see you try."

She didn't flinch. Didn't back down.

Dominic had been expecting a spoiled Mafia princess. Someone weak, sheltered. But she wasn't that, was she?

No, this girl had steel in her spine.

Still, steel or not, she was here for the same reason he was.

"A business deal," Dominic said, voice smooth. "That's what this is. Nothing more."

Something flickered across her face-too fast for him to catch. But then she smiled. Not sweet. Not soft.

Sharp. Calculated. Dangerous.

"Good," she said. "Then we don't have to pretend to like each other."

Dominic laughed, low and rough. "Darling, I never pretend."

Moretti leaned back in his chair, watching the exchange like a king observing his chess pieces. "Then it's settled. The engagement will be announced this week."

Dominic clenched his jaw. Just like that, huh?

Valentina turned to her father, voice cold. "And what if I refuse?"

Moretti's expression darkened. "Then I'll bury your mother's medical bills so deep she'll never see another doctor again."

Dominic felt the shift in the air.

It was slight, but he saw it. The way her back straightened. The way her fingers curled into fists. The way her breath hitched, just a little.

Her mother was sick.

And Moretti was using that to control her.

Bastard.

Valentina turned back to Dominic, her face once again unreadable. "Looks like I don't have a choice, then."

Dominic didn't break eye contact. "Neither of us do."

Another pause.

Then she nodded once. "Fine."

She turned and walked away, disappearing down the hall without another word.

Dominic let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair.

This marriage was going to be a fucking nightmare.

And yet-

He couldn't stop thinking about the fire in her eyes.

The Moretti estate was alive with the sounds of a celebration Dominic wanted no part of.

Laughter, clinking glasses, murmured conversations-all of it grated against his nerves like sandpaper. These people were celebrating as if this was a real engagement. As if this wasn't a power move wrapped in an expensive suit.

The dining hall was obnoxiously lavish-long chandeliers spilling golden light over a grand table lined with crystal glasses and polished silverware. Morettis and Carusos sat side by side, fake smiles plastered on their faces, trying to act like this wasn't a merger masked as a marriage.

Dominic's fingers drummed against the table as his father, Luca Caruso, raised his glass.

"To unity."

A chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

Dominic smirked. Unity, my ass.

Valentina sat beside him, perfectly poised, hands folded on her lap. She hadn't looked at him once.

Not since the moment she was forced into that silk dress and pushed in front of their fathers like a well-trained prize.

He leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting over her ear. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

She didn't flinch. Didn't react. But he saw the slight twitch in her jaw.

"Observant, aren't you?" she murmured, taking a sip of her wine.

He chuckled, low and rough. "I'm just wondering how long you can keep pretending."

She turned then, her dark eyes locking onto his. "Pretending?"

Dominic smirked. There it was-that fire again. "That you're okay with this. That you're just another obedient little Mafia princess playing her part."

Her lips parted slightly, as if to respond, but before she could, her father's voice sliced through the room.

"Dominic," Moretti called out, lifting his glass. "You're quite the talk of the city these days. Rumor has it you handled those traitors last week in a way even I found impressive."

The entire table fell silent.

Dominic could feel the weight of every single stare. The silent challenge in Moretti's words. A test.

Valentina tensed beside him.

Dominic swirled the wine in his glass lazily before taking a sip. If Moretti thought he could rattle him, he was dead fucking wrong.

"Rumors travel fast," Dominic mused, setting his glass down. "I'm sure you'd rather ask the men who crossed me, but they're all six feet under."

A few nervous chuckles echoed around the room.

Moretti smirked. "Efficient. Brutal, even." He tilted his head. "But was it necessary?"

Dominic met his gaze, unfazed. "Every bullet."

The tension in the room thickened.

Moretti held his stare for a long moment before finally chuckling, the sound dark and pleased. "You remind me of myself at your age."

"That's not a compliment," Valentina muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Dominic to hear.

He smirked.

Dinner carried on, conversations shifting back to less deadly topics, but the tension remained. Moretti had just made one thing clear-he wanted to know what kind of man his daughter was marrying.

And Dominic? He had nothing to prove.

It was tradition, apparently.

The newly engaged couple had to dance together in front of the entire room.

Valentina stood stiffly as Dominic extended his hand. Her fingers barely touched his when she placed her palm against his.

"Relax, princess," he murmured as he pulled her closer, his other hand resting on the small of her back. "I don't bite."

She arched a brow. "No? That's not what the streets say."

He chuckled. She had a sharp tongue. He liked that.

The music started, soft and slow, but the air between them was anything but.

Every step was a battle. A power struggle wrapped in grace.

"I know what you are," Valentina said quietly as they moved. "You're a killer. A man who doesn't hesitate to spill blood if it means keeping your empire strong."

Dominic's fingers tightened slightly on her waist. "And what does that make you?"

She tilted her chin up slightly. "A hostage."

His smirk faded.

For the first time since he met her, she wasn't just fighting back-she was telling the truth.

And somehow, he hated that more than anything.

"Then why are you here?" he asked, voice low.

She exhaled softly. "Because I have no choice."

There was something in her voice. Something she was trying to hide.

Fear? No.

Resentment.

Before he could say anything, the dance ended. The room erupted into applause, but Valentina didn't wait. She stepped back, slipped out of his grip, and walked off the dance floor like she hadn't just left him standing there.

Like she hadn't just made him feel something.

He found her on the balcony, leaning against the railing, staring out at the darkened estate.

"You shouldn't walk away from me like that, princess."

She tensed but didn't turn around. "Why? Worried about appearances?"

"No." He stepped closer. "I just don't like being dismissed."

She exhaled a quiet laugh. "Then you're going to hate this marriage."

Dominic moved beside her, resting his elbows on the stone railing. The cold night air did nothing to cool the fire still burning in his chest.

"This doesn't have to be miserable," he said after a moment. "It's a deal. We play our parts, and we survive it."

She finally turned to him, her eyes filled with something unreadable. "And that's all it is to you?"

Dominic's smirk returned. "That's all it will ever be."

She nodded once, as if that was exactly what she expected. Then she looked back out at the night.

But for the first time, she didn't look angry.

She just looked tired.

And Dominic?

For the first time, he realized he wasn't the only one trapped in this fucking game.

As Dominic turned to leave, a shadow moved from the doorway.

His muscles tensed.

Moretti stood there, his face unreadable.

"She's your problem now," he said flatly. "Do whatever you want with her."

Valentina didn't react. She didn't even look at her father.

Dominic glanced at her, but she stared ahead, shoulders squared, as if the words didn't affect her.

But they did. He could tell.

Moretti turned to go, then stopped. "Don't think this marriage makes you family, Caruso. We're allies, not blood."

Dominic smirked. "Trust me, old man-I'd rather burn in hell than be your blood."

Moretti chuckled darkly and walked away.

When Dominic turned back to Valentina, she was already gone.

And for the first time, he wondered if this marriage was going to cost him more than just his freedom.

Maybe it would cost him his soul.