Owned By The Don's Obsession

4 Chapter 1 Sold Out by My Own Blood The mahogany desk in my father’s home office smelled of stale bourbon and cheap cigars. But tonight, another scent drowned it out completely. Gun oil. Rain. Cold leather. “Sign it, Vance,” a voice rasped from the shadows near the floor-to-ceiling windows. I stood frozen near the doorway, the brass handle still cold in my trembling palm. The room was illuminated only by the faint amber glow of the desk lamp and the sharp, violent flash of lightning outside. My father—a man who spent his whole life pretending to be a king—was currently on his knees. Sweat soaked through his crisp white collar. His hand shook so hard he could barely hold the pen hovering over a thick stack of legal documents. “Please, Don Moretti,” my father stammered, his voice pathetic and weak. “Give me two more weeks. The stock portfolio—it’s going to bounce back. I just need a little time—” “Two weeks?” The man sitting in my father’s expensive leather armchair leaned slowly into the light. Dante Moretti. Even in the underworld, his name was spoken like a death sentence. He looked to be in his late thirties, clad in a charcoal three-piece suit that fit his broad frame with lethal precision. His face looked carved from marble—sharp jaw, cold gray eyes, and a

5 thin scar slicing through his left eyebrow. He didn’t look angry. That was the scariest part. He looked completely bored by my father’s begging. “You’ve had six months, Arthur,” Dante said, his deep voice slicing through the thunder outside. “And twenty-four million dollars doesn’t simply disappear.” “I... I don’t have the liquid cash!” my father sobbed, dropping his head until his forehead almost touched the rug. “I don’t have it!” Dante stood up. He was massive—easily six-foot-three—and his shadow swallowed the room whole. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, casually fixing his platinum cufflinks without rushing a single movement. “Then we execute Clause 4,” Dante murmured, taking a slow step toward the desk. “No! Not that! Anything but that!” my father gasped, scrambling backward on his knees. He raised his head, his panicked eyes darting around the room until they landed on me standing by the door. Dante’s gray eyes followed his gaze. Across the expanse of the dark office, his eyes locked straight onto mine. I froze. The breath hitched in my throat, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. The sheer weight of his stare felt heavy, suffocating. “You have a daughter,” Dante said softly, his eyes never leaving my face. My father didn’t hesitate. He didn’t scream. He didn’t try to protect me. He just swallowed hard, looked up at Dante, and pushed the papers forward.

6 “Take her,” my father whispered. “Take her and wipe the debt.” My jaw dropped. The word hung in the cold air, sickening and sharp. Take her. “Dad...” My voice trembled as I backed up until my spine hit the doorframe. “What are you doing? What did you just say?” My father didn’t answer. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. He just stared at the floor, wiping sweat from his forehead with a trembling sleeve. A set of slow, heavy footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor. Dante walked around the desk, stopping just inches away from me. Up close, his height was overwhelming. He smelled of rain, expensive cologne, and dark tobacco. His gray eyes swept down my body—from my messy bun, past my oversized sweater, down to my bare feet on the floorboards. He didn’t look at me like a person. He looked at me like a fresh purchase. “How old are you?” Dante asked. His deep voice vibrated right through my chest. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my chin up even as my knees shook. “Twenty-two. And I’m not a piece of property.” A faint, cruel smirk touched the corner of his lips. “You are whatever your father traded you for, little bird.” “I’m a human being!” I snapped, my eyes stinging with heat. “You can’t just take a person! This is illegal!” In one swift movement, his hand shot out. His long fingers wrapped around my throat. He didn’t squeeze hard enough to stop my breath, but his grip was firm, pinning my head back against the wall. His thumb pressed directly over my

7 pulse point. I gasped. The heat of his palm was scorching against my cold skin. “Look at me,” he commanded, his tone quiet, dark, and utterly absolute. My eyes snapped to his. Up close, the silver flecks in his gray eyes looked like ice. “Your father owes me twenty-four million dollars,” Dante murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. His hot breath sent an unwanted shiver straight down my spine, making my skin prickle. “You belong to the Moretti family now. Every inch of you. Every breath you take.” “I’ll fight you,” I whispered, tears of anger threatening to spill. “I’ll fight you every single day.” Dante pulled back slightly, his thumb pressing gently into the pulse hammering in my neck. He felt how fast my heart was racing. He knew I was terrified. And he liked it. “I count on it,” he whispered. He let go of my neck, the sudden absence of his touch leaving my skin burning. He didn’t even glance back at my father as he turned toward two huge men in black suits standing near the window. “Gino. Put her in the back of the SUV.” “Wait! No!” I reached frantically for the brass door handle, but before I could turn it, a heavy hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me backward into the dark hallway.

8 Chapter 2 The Night the Demon Came Rain poured down in relentless sheets, drumming against the tinted glass of the blacked-out SUV. I was shoved into the plush leather back seat, my shoulder slamming against the far door. Before I could even reach for the inner handle, the heavy door slammed shut, and the electronic locks clicked into place with a definitive, chilling sound. Clack. “Let me out!” I screamed, throwing my weight against the door panel. I yanked on the handle, but it was completely dead. “Let me go, you bastards!” I turned around, reaching frantically for the door on the opposite side, but my knees hit a pair of long, suit-clad legs. Dante was already sitting there. He hadn’t made a sound as he slid into the vehicle. He sat back against the leather with effortless dominance, one leg crossed over the other, casually checking a sleek, dark smartwatch on his wrist. “Save your breath, Elena,” Dante said smoothly, not even looking up at me. “The doors are reinforced. The glass is bulletproof. You could scream until your throat bleeds, and no one on this street would hear a single sound.” My heart pounded violently against my ribs. Hearing him say my name sent a cold bolt of heat straight to my stomach. “My name isn’t yours to speak,” I spat, pulling my legs away from his suit pants and pressing myself as far into the corner of the seat as possible. “You think you can just kidnap me? This is human

9 trafficking! The police—” Dante raised his head. The faint glow of the streetlights passing outside sliced through the darkness, illuminating the hard, sharp line of his jaw. “The chief of police sits at my dinner table every third Sunday of the month,” Dante interrupted softly. His gray eyes locked onto mine, completely devoid of warmth. “Your father knew who he was dealing with when he signed those papers. There is no cavalry coming for you, little bird. No one is searching for what was willingly given away.” Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, hot and furious. The reality of my father’s betrayal washed over me again, heavy and suffocating. He had handed me over to a monster just to save his own skin. “He had no right,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. “I’m not his to give.” “No,” Dante agreed, leaning forward slightly. The movement brought him into my space, his heavy male shadow swallowing me whole. “He wasn’t your owner. But now... I am.” “I will never belong to you,” I snarled, glaring at him through the dim light. “You can keep me in this car, you can lock me in a room, but you will never own me.” Dante didn’t look angered by my defiance. If anything, a dark, dangerous glint entered his eyes. He uncrossed his legs and leaned closer, his massive frame trapping me against the corner of the door. The heat radiating off his body was overwhelming, thick with the scent of rain, cedarwood, and refined leather.

10 Before I could pull away, his long fingers reached out and clamped around my jaw. His grip was firm, holding my head still as his thumb brushed over the lower curve of my lip. The contrast between his calloused skin and my soft lips made my breath catch in my throat. “You talk big for someone whose pulse is beating like a trapped bird’s,” he murmured, his deep voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “Release me,” I gasped, trying to pull back, but his grip on my jaw only tightened slightly, tilting my face up toward his. “Look at you,” Dante whispered, his gray eyes darkening as they tracked down to my mouth, then slowly back up to meet my gaze. “Terrified. Trembling. Yet you still stare at me like you want to claw my eyes out.” “I want to kill you,” I whispered back, my eyes burning with fierce defiance even as a strange, traitorous heat coiled low in my belly at his proximity. A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated from deep within his chest. It was a terrifyingly attractive sound. “Good,” Dante said, leaning down until his lips brushed the sensitive skin just below my ear. His hot breath sent an intense shiver racing down my spine, making every hair on my arms stand up. “Keep that fire, Elena. Because when I finally break you... I want to hear you fight just as hard before you beg.” He pressed a firm, lingering kiss right to the throbbing pulse point on my neck, his stubble grazing my skin just enough to leave a stinging heat in its wake. I gasped, my hands flying up to push against his chest. My palms hit the rock-hard plane of his suit jacket, but he didn’t budge an inch.

11 He pulled back slowly, his eyes dark with absolute possession as he released my jaw, leaving his hot thumbprint burning on my skin. “Driver,” Dante commanded, never breaking eye contact with me. “Take us home.” The SUV lurched forward, speeding off into the dark, rain-drenched night, carrying me far away from everything I had ever known.

12 Chapter 3 “Take Me Instead” The massive iron gates swung open with a heavy, mechanical groan as the SUV rolled onto the private estate. Towering pine trees lined the long, winding driveway, blocking out the city completely. At the end of the road stood the mansion—a sprawling, dark-stone estate shrouded in mist, illuminated by muted exterior floodlights. Armed men in dark suits were stationed every twenty feet along the perimeter, rain glistening off their rifles. The SUV ground to a halt under the wide marble portico. Before I could process where we were, Dante’s door was opened from the outside. He stepped out smoothly into the cool night air, unbuttoning his coat. A moment later, my door opened. “Out, Miss,” a hulking guard with a scarred neck said, holding the door wide. I hesitated, pulling my knees closer to my chest. “No.” Dante didn’t even turn around as he walked up the grand stone steps. “Bring her inside, Gino. Don’t break anything... yet.” “Got it, Don Moretti,” Gino grunted. He reached into the back seat, grabbing my wrist with a grip like steel, and hauled me out of the vehicle. “Let go of me!” I screamed, kicking out. My bare heel caught his shin, making him hiss, but he barely flinched. He dragged me up the steps like a sack of flour, my feet scraping against the wet marble.

13 We burst through the massive double doors into a grand foyer lined with white marble, crystal chandeliers, and a sweeping curved staircase. The warmth inside hit my cold skin instantly, but the air felt heavy, suffocatingly quiet. Gino tossed me onto the polished floor. I slid a few inches, my palms catching my weight as my messy hair fell over my face. “That’s enough, Gino.” Dante’s deep, commanding voice echoed off the high ceilings. The guard immediately stepped back, bowing his head slightly before exiting the foyer, closing the heavy doors with a resonant thud. I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, breathing heavily, and looked up. Dante was standing near the base of the staircase. He had already shed his suit jacket, draped over the banister, leaving him in a crisp black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Vascular, corded muscle and the edge of a dark tattoo peeked through the black fabric. He took slow, deliberate steps toward me, his leather shoes clicking against the marble. “You’re feisty,” Dante murmured, stopping right in front of me. The sheer size of him blocked out the chandelier light above, casting me in his shadow. “Kicking my men. Screaming like a wild animal.” “I’m not your captive!” I spat, scrambling backward until my shoulders hit the base of a marble pillar. Dante crouched down in front of me. The shift brought us eye-to-eye, his cold gray gaze holding mine captive. He reached out, his warm, heavy hand cupping the back of my neck. His fingers tangled into my damp hair, gently tugging my head back

14 until my throat was fully exposed to him. “Look around you, Elena,” he whispered, his thumb lightly stroking the sharp line of my jawline. “Look at where you are. There are no neighbors. No passersby. Every man on this property answers only to me.” My pulse hammered wildly against his palm—a frantic, fluttering beat. I hated how my body reacted to him. Every place his skin touched mine felt like it was catching fire, a terrifying, electric current running through my veins. “You took me because of a debt,” I said, my voice trembling as I tried to keep my breathing steady. “My father... he has a younger son. Leo. He’s only twelve.” Dante’s gray eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle shift in his expression. “I know who your family is.” “If my father couldn’t pay... he would have sold Leo next, wouldn’t he?” Tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, burning down my cheeks. “He would have given you my little brother.” Dante stayed silent, his grip on my neck remaining firm, unyielding. “So take me instead,” I gasped, leaning into…