Diary 15: The Mafia’s Forbidden Obsession
Chapter 69
The moment Elena Carter realized she was being followed, it was already too late.
It started as a feeling-an eerie sensation creeping down her spine as she walked down the dimly lit street. The weight of unseen eyes pressed against her, sending a shiver through her body. She quickened her steps, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag, but the heavy sound of boots on pavement mirrored her every move.
She turned the corner, hoping to lose whoever was behind her. But the second she did, a sleek black car pulled up beside her, its headlights cutting through the darkness.
Elena’s breath hitched.
Panic set in.
She pivoted, ready to bolt in the opposite direction, but a strong arm wrapped around her waist before she could even take a step.
“Going somewhere, piccola?”
A deep, gravelly voice sent a chill through her, rough yet smooth, like silk wrapped around steel.
She struggled, but the grip was unyielding, pulling her against a solid chest. The scent of leather, smoke, and expensive cologne invaded her senses.
“Let me go!” she hissed, twisting in his hold.
A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Not a chance.”
Before she could scream, a gloved hand covered her mouth. The world tilted as she was lifted effortlessly off the ground and shoved into the backseat of the waiting car. The door slammed shut, sealing her fate.
Elena kicked wildly, her nails clawing at the hand restraining her, but a sharp voice cut through her panic.
“Enough.”
The command was quiet, yet it carried an unmistakable weight of power.
The man pinning her down slowly released his grip and stepped back.
Elena’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she turned to face the person who had just spoken.
Lorenzo De Luca.
She had seen his face before-on news articles, in secretive photographs taken from a distance, always surrounded by armed men. He was a ghost, a shadow ruling over the city’s underworld.
But now, he wasn’t just a name in her investigation.
He was sitting right in front of her.
And he was very real.
Dark hair, sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes that looked almost unnatural in their intensity. He was dressed in an expensive black suit, the crisp fabric tailored to perfection. He exuded power, danger, and something far worse-control.
Elena swallowed hard.
“You’ve been asking too many questions, journalist,” Lorenzo said smoothly, watching her like a predator sizing up its prey.
Her mouth went dry.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
Lorenzo smirked, but there was no warmth in it. Only amusement.
“Lies don’t suit you, Elena.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been digging into my business, speaking to people who have no right to open their mouths. Do you know what happens to people who get too curious?”
Elena’s heart pounded.
She did. She had written about it, read the stories of people who disappeared without a trace.
But she had never thought she would be one of them.
Lorenzo tilted his head, watching her reaction with cruel fascination.
“You’re lucky, though,” he murmured. “I could have killed you the moment I found out what you were up to.”
A cold dread settled in her stomach.
“Then why didn’t you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lorenzo’s lips curved into something dangerously close to a smile.
“Because, Elena… I think I’d rather keep you.”
Silence filled the car, heavy and suffocating.
Elena’s pulse thundered in her ears.
She wasn’t just being silenced.
She was being claimed.
Elena’s breath came in short, uneven bursts as the weight of Lorenzo’s words settled over her.
I think I’d rather keep you.
The sheer audacity of it sent a mix of fear and anger coursing through her veins.
She clenched her fists, forcing herself to steady her voice. “I’m not some possession you can just-”
“Ah,” Lorenzo cut her off, amusement flickering in his icy blue eyes. “But that’s where you’re wrong, piccola. You see, once you step into my world, there’s no walking away.”
Elena’s nails dug into her palms. “I didn’t step into anything. I was just doing my job.”
Lorenzo leaned back, exuding a dangerous kind of calm. “Your job, huh? Digging into my past, into my business, questioning people who had no right to speak to you?” His fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee, his voice deceptively soft. “Tell me, Elena, what exactly were you hoping to find?”
Elena swallowed hard. “The truth.”
Lorenzo chuckled. It was low and slow, almost like he found her answer adorable.
“And what truth is that?” He studied her, tilting his head slightly. “That I’m a monster? A criminal? That my hands aren’t clean?” He spread his palms, his smirk deepening. “I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise.”
The worst part was that he didn’t even sound offended. He spoke as if his reputation was something to be worn with pride, like a tailored suit.
Elena forced herself to hold his gaze. “Then why not just kill me?”
Lorenzo’s smirk faltered for a brief second, his expression turning unreadable.
Then, he leaned forward.
“You’re asking the wrong question, Elena,” he murmured, voice dropping into something almost intimate. “The question isn’t why haven’t I killed you?” His fingers brushed against a strand of her hair, and she fought the urge to pull away. “The real question is… why can’t I?”
A chill shot down her spine.
His touch was light-barely a ghost of contact-but it carried an unspoken promise.
She wasn’t sure if it was a warning.
Or a threat.
Either way, her body betrayed her-her breath hitched, her pulse quickened, and a dangerous kind of awareness settled between them.
Lorenzo’s gaze flickered to her parted lips before locking onto her eyes again.
“Elena,” he murmured, his tone suddenly different. Darker.
It was just her name. Just a whisper.
But it felt like a claim.
Elena yanked herself backward, pressing against the cool leather of the seat, her heart hammering. “This is insane,” she breathed. “You can’t just-”
Lorenzo reached out, gripping her chin between his fingers. Not hard, but firm enough that she couldn’t look away.
“Oh, piccola,” he murmured, his smirk returning. “I can. And I will.”
Before she could react, the car rolled to a stop.
The door opened, and a rush of cool night air hit her face.
“Welcome home,” Lorenzo said, his voice dripping with amusement as he released her.
Elena’s stomach twisted as she looked out the window.
A massive estate loomed before her, dark and imposing against the night sky. High walls, security cameras, and men in suits standing guard.
A cage.
She turned back to Lorenzo, her breath catching in her throat.
His blue eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
“You belong to me now.” His voice was low, dark, and undeniably possessive. “And I don’t give back what’s mine.”