The Mafia Billionaire's Obsession

Elena

Elena had never been outside the mansion walls-not once in 20 years.

She wasn't allowed.

Victoria could come and go as she pleased, basking in the attention of their wealthy social circle. Elena, however, was nothing more than a secret locked away-a stain on the perfect life her parents wanted to portray.

But tonight, she was done being invisible.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she crept through the dimly lit hallway, her breath shallow, ears straining for any sound. The clock in the main hall struck ten, its chimes ringing through the enormous house like a warning.

Hurry.

She tightened her grip on the strap of the small bag slung over her shoulder. It wasn't much-just an old hoodie, a bottle of water, and the small amount of money she'd stolen from Victoria's purse earlier. Enough to get far away.

Her bare feet barely made a sound against the cold marble as she moved toward the back of the house. She knew exactly which door to take-the one leading to the service entrance. It was the only exit with a broken alarm system, something she'd discovered by accident years ago.

If she made it past the gate, she could disappear.

No more locked rooms. No more being a shadow in her own home.

But first, she had to make it out.

She took another step-

"Where do you think you're going?"

Elena's stomach dropped.

Victoria.

She whirled around to see her sister leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk curving her lips.

Dressed in a silk robe, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders, Victoria looked effortlessly perfect-as always.

Elena, by contrast, was wearing an oversized sweater, her hair tied in a messy knot, and her face free of the makeup her mother forced on Victoria.

But that wasn't what made them different.

Victoria was the daughter they loved.

Elena was the daughter they tolerated.

"Move," Elena said, her voice stronger than she felt.

Victoria's smirk widened. "Oh, Elena." She tsked. "You're actually trying to leave? How cute."

Elena's pulse pounded. "I mean it, Victoria."

Her sister took a slow step closer. "And what exactly do you think you'll do out there, huh? You've never even been to a grocery store. You have no friends, no connections-hell, you don't even have a real education. Mom and Dad made sure of that."

Elena flinched. She's right. But I can't stay here.

She thought.

Victoria leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're nothing without this house. No one will want you. And if you run, you'll regret it."

Elena clenched her fists, swallowing the rage boiling inside her. Victoria wanted her to break. To prove she was weak.

But she wasn't weak. Not anymore.

She turned on her heel and bolted.

"Guards!" Victoria's voice rang through the hall. "Stop her!"

Elena sprinted through the kitchen, dodging a startled maid and pushing open the side door. The blast of cool night air hit her like a shock.

Don't stop. Just run.

She kept chanting in her head.

The back gardens stretched before her, dark and vast, the scent of damp roses thick in the air. The mansion's perimeter fence loomed ahead, taller than she remembered, but not impossible to climb.

She just had to reach it.

Elena ran, her lungs burning, heart hammering against her ribs. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.

She leaped, her fingers curling around the iron bars-

A strong arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her backward.

A scream tore from her throat as she struggled, kicking and thrashing. No. No, please! I was so close!

A deep chuckle sent chills through her.

"Now, now, pequeña," a voice murmured in her ear. "That's no way to say hello."

Her body stiffened. That accent. Deep. Amused. Dangerous.

Dante Russo.

Her breath caught in her throat as she twisted to see him. Dark blue eyes. Scarred brow. An expression that sent a shiver down her spine.

He was taller than she imagined, his body solid muscle beneath his crisp black suit. Tattoos curled up his wrists, disappearing beneath the expensive fabric.

He was nothing like the men her parents associated with.

He was worse.

He watched her with a lazy kind of amusement, as if she were a puzzle he had yet to figure out. "Now, tell me, little mouse," he said, tilting his head. "Where were you running off to in such a hurry?"

Elena glared, hating the way his presence unsettled her. "Let me go."

Dante chuckled. "Brave." He loosened his grip but didn't step back. "Most people beg when they see me. You, however..." His gaze flicked over her, taking in her messy hair, the hoodie drowning her frame, the fear flickering behind her defiance. "You're not like the rest of them, are you?"

She swallowed hard, her skin still burning where he'd touched her. "I don't belong here."

Something shifted in his eyes.

"No," he said quietly. "You don't."

A shout rang out from the house. Guards. They were coming.

Elena's stomach twisted. If they found her out here, her father would never let her out of his sight again.

She turned, ready to run again-

Dante caught her wrist.

Her breath hitched as his fingers curled around her skin, firm but not painful. His dark eyes searched hers, something unreadable flickering there.

Then, to her shock, he let go.

"Run," he murmured.

Elena hesitated. Why would he let me go?

"Go, before I change my mind," he added, smirking slightly.

She didn't wait.

She bolted into the night, not daring to look back.

She didn't see the way Dante Russo watched her disappear into the shadows, his smirk fading into something much darker.

She didn't hear him murmur to himself, "Interesting."

And she didn't know, in that moment, that she had just become an obsession.

One he wouldn't let go of.

Dante

Dante Russo arrived at the Deveraux mansion in a calculated silence, his men flanking him as he stepped inside. The grand home was a perfect illusion of wealth and power-but illusions were easy for him to see through.

His mind was still replaying the moment from earlier.

The girl. Elena.

She had run from him. That didn't happen often. Women usually threw themselves at him, but she had looked at him with something different.

Fear.

And now, when he walked into the dining hall, she was nowhere to be seen.

"Ah, Mr. Russo," William Deveraux greeted, forcing a smile. "Welcome."

Dante shook his hand, his grip firm, calculated. "Pleasure."

Beside William, his wife, Genevieve, sat stiffly, her eyes darting toward Victoria, who had already draped herself in charm.

"My father speaks so highly of you," Victoria purred, sitting beside Dante with a smile that felt too forced. "He says you're one of the most powerful men in the business world."

Dante ignored her flattery. He was used to this game.

Where is she?

He leaned back, sipping the whiskey the staff had poured for him. "I was under the impression you had two daughters."

Victoria's smile didn't waver, but her fingers curled slightly.

"Oh, Elena?" She laughed lightly. "She's... quite dull. Never attends these things. My sister is nothing like me."

Dante watched her carefully.

A liar.

"She isn't feeling well," William added quickly.

Dante swirled his drink, pretending to accept the excuse. But inside, his mind was already working.

They were hiding her.

Which meant she was worth hiding.

Elena

Elena's lungs burned as she ran through the cold streets, her stolen hoodie barely protecting her from the night air.

She had done it. She had escaped.

But now... she had nowhere to go.

With no other options, she followed the glowing lights ahead.

She hadn't realized where she was until she stepped inside the club-Inferno.

It was loud, chaotic, and dangerous. Women danced under neon lights, men sat in plush booths, watching with lazy smirks.

She should have turned around.

But she had already been seen.

"Hey, sweetheart," a deep voice murmured as a man grabbed her wrist. "You lost?"

She tensed.

Before she could speak, a sharper, colder voice cut through the noise.

"Touch her again," it said, "and I'll make sure she's the last thing you touch.."

The air shifted.

The man immediately let go immediately,terrified.

Elena's breath caught in her throat as she turned-and met Dante's piercing gaze.

"Come on, let's get you somewhere safe". He urged, taking her hands in his.

Dante led her upstairs.

She didn't fight him.

They got to a sophisticated apartment she never thought existed in the building. Not like she had enough time to wander around the building in order to stumble upon such exotic place.

He poured himself a drink, watching as she hesitated near the window, slightly getting lost while admiring the view.

"Why are you alone?" he asked.

She swallowed, moving slightly away from the window. "I ran away."

Dante smirked. "That much I gathered, pequeña."

He took a slow step toward her. "And now, you're in my club."

Her fingers gripped the hem of the hoodie she wore. "I didn't know."

Dante let out a low chuckle. "You should be more careful where you run, then."

Elena's breath hitched as he lifted a hand-not to hurt her. Just to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"You should be afraid of me," he murmured.

She lifted her chin,muttering so much courage she didn't know she possessed. "I'm not."

Dante studied her for a long moment.

Then, finally, he smirked and took a step back.

"Sleep here." He tossed her a hoodie.

She blinked. "What?"

"I won't touch you." His smirk deepened. "Not tonight."

She hesitated, then took the hoodie and curled up on the couch.

Dante sat across from her, watching.

Because she was his now.

Even if she didn't know it yet.

The Next Morning

Dante woke slowly, stretching as the early morning light seeped into the room.

His first instinct was to look toward the couch.

And his entire body went still.

It was empty.

His hoodie was still there.

But Elena was gone.

Dante's jaw ticked.

The rage built inside him like a storm.

She ran again.

His grip tightened on the glass in his hand. Crack.

"Find her," he ordered, his voice cold, lethal.

Because this time, he wouldn't let her go.

Elena moved carefully through the dimly lit hallways of the Deveraux mansion, her bare feet making no sound against the polished marble floor. It was past 4 in the morning, and the house was cloaked in eerie silence. A normal person would have been asleep, but not her.

She hadn't slept properly in years.

She was on her way back to her small, isolated room when she heard voices coming from her father's office. That wasn't unusual. Her father often held late-night meetings. But then she heard her name.

She froze.

Pressing herself against the wall just outside the slightly open door, she held her breath and listened.

"She's useless to us," William Deveraux's voice was sharp, laced with irritation. "She ran away once, and she'll do it again."

Elena's heart pounded.

"She won't be able to run anywhere if we get rid of her properly this time," Genevieve said, her voice cold and void of emotion.

Elena's breath hitched. Get rid of her?

There was a brief pause before her father let out a tired sigh. "Dante Russo would've been a better match. But since he's not interested, at least his father is."

Elena felt the ground beneath her shift.

"You think selling her to that old bastard is better?" a third voice joined in. Victoria.

Her elder sister sounded amused. Not shocked. Not horrified. Just... entertained.

Genevieve scoffed. "Why not? Lorenzo Russo wants a young wife, and she'll finally be of use. It's done, Victoria. We've already accepted his offer."

Elena clamped a hand over her mouth.

Her father. Her mother. Her sister. They had sold her.

"She'll be picked up any moment from now," William added. "Our men are already looking for her. They'll bring her here when they find her."

Elena stopped breathing.

They were coming for her.

Now.

And if she didn't run,if she didn't do something this time, she would never escape.

Elena didn't think. She turned and bolted.

She had no plan, no idea where she would go, but she knew she had to get out.

Her legs carried her toward the back of the house, a different route from the one she used to escape last night, this time,where the servant's entrance led to the garden. If she could just make it past the gates, past the walls, she could disappear into the night.

She reached the door, her shaking hands fumbling with the lock.

Click.

The door creaked open.

She barely took a step outside when a strong arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her backward.

A rough, gloved hand slammed over her mouth before she could scream.

"Elena, Elena, Elena," a deep voice murmured in her ear. "Did you really think you could run?"

She thrashed, kicked, struggled. But the man holding her was too strong.

"I was told you might try this," he continued, dragging her further into the shadows. "You should've just stayed put. Now you're making my job harder."

Elena bit his hand.

He cursed and loosened his grip just enough for her to break free. She sprinted toward the gates, heart racing-

But then another man stepped out from the darkness.

Before she could react, he swung.

Pain exploded in her skull.

The world blurred.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

~ ~ ~ ~

Elena woke up to the feeling of soft silk beneath her fingertips.

For a brief, blissful second, she thought she was home.

Then she opened her eyes.

The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, ornate, old, elegant. The air smelled of cologne and cigars.

This wasn't the Deveraux mansion.

Dread pooled in her stomach.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, her head throbbing in pain. The room was too grand, too cold, too unfamiliar. And then-

The door opened.

"Ah," a deep, smooth voice greeted. "You're awake."

Elena's blood turned to ice.

Lorenzo Russo stood in the doorway.

He was tall, dressed in a dark suit, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back. His eyes-nothing like Dante's. He's was filled with something crueler, it watched her with quiet amusement.

"You must be frightened," he said, stepping inside.

Elena's throat closed up.

"You're safe here," Lorenzo continued. "You have everything you need at your disposal. You're my wife now, and as long as you obey me, you'll be treated well."

The word wife made her stomach churn.

"I-" she tried to speak, but her voice cracked.

He smiled. "No need to speak, my dear. You'll have plenty of time to adjust."

He stepped closer.

Elena's body tensed.

And then-

The door slammed open.

Elena flinched as a woman stormed in, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

Dante's mother.

Her sharp, aristocratic features twisted in disgust.

"Her?" she spat. "This is the girl you brought here?"

Lorenzo sighed as if he had been expecting this. "Valeria-"

Oh, that's her name.

Elena thought.

"After everything I did to be with you," Valeria hissed, eyes burning with rage. "You bring some-some filthy little girl into this house?"

Elena sat there, frozen.

Lorenzo's expression darkened. "You forget your place, Valeria."

But Valeria wasn't listening.

Her gaze was locked on Elena, filled with pure hatred.

And Elena realized then that she wasn't just trapped with a monster.

She was trapped with two.