The Dangerous Lover or The Mafia's Boyfriend

‎Elijah had barely stepped into his penthouse when he felt it.

‎That eerie, unshakable feeling of being watched.

‎His fingers instinctively grazed the inside of his suit jacket, where he kept a small but efficient handgun, a precaution he rarely needed but never ignored.

‎He exhaled slowly, masking his tension as he walked further into the dimly lit apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering skyline, casting long shadows across the sleek modern furniture. Everything appeared untouched.

‎But he wasn't alone.

‎"I'd offer you a drink," Elijah said flatly, slipping off his suit jacket, "but I don't usually entertain uninvited guests."

‎A low, amused chuckle came from the corner of the room.

‎"You really should upgrade your security, tesoro."

‎Elijah turned to find Dante Moretti, lounging on his leather couch like he owned the damn place. His black-on-black outfit blended into the shadows, but his smirk arrogant, knowing, stood out like a neon sign.

‎Elijah crossed his arms. "Breaking and entering now? How very mafia of you."

‎Dante exhaled a lazy chuckle, completely unfazed. "If I wanted to break in, your locks wouldn't stop me." He gestured toward the glass of whiskey on the table. "Relax. I helped myself."

‎Elijah rolled his eyes but remained on edge. "Why are you here?"

‎Dante's smirk faded, his eyes darkening with something more serious. "Because you've made a mistake, Sinclair."

‎Elijah scoffed. "Enlighten me."

‎Dante leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His gaze locked onto Elijah's, unyielding. "You don't understand the kind of people you're dealing with."

‎Elijah raised an eyebrow. "You mean you?"

‎Dante shook his head. "I mean Alessandro Romano."

‎Elijah stilled.

‎Romano. He recognized the name. Another major mafia family. Ruthless. Unpredictable.

‎Dante stood, slowly closing the distance between them. "You went after my properties, which means you put yourself in the middle of a war you don't belong in."

‎Elijah refused to back down, even as Dante stopped mere inches away, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off him.

‎"I can handle myself."

‎Dante studied him, then smirked. "You're arrogant. I like that. But it's going to get you killed."

‎Elijah's lips curled slightly. "And you care because...?"

‎Dante's expression darkened, his voice dropping to something almost possessive. "Because you're mine now, Sinclair. Whether you like it or not."

‎Elijah let out a short laugh. "I don't belong to anyone."

‎Dante moved fast.

‎One second, Elijah was standing tall, unfazed. The next, his back hit the cool glass of the window, Dante's hands pressing firmly against it on either side of him, caging him in.

‎The sudden shift sent a jolt of something dangerous through Elijah's body; adrenaline, annoyance... and something else.

‎Something he refused to name.

‎Dante leaned in, his voice a low whisper against Elijah's ear. "Romano already put a hit on you, tesoro. You're marked. Which means you have two choices."

‎Elijah swallowed, keeping his face neutral despite the way his pulse betrayed him. "And those are?"

‎Dante's brown eyes gleamed with amusement. "You let me protect you..." His fingers brushed along Elijah's side, a barely-there touch that made his breath hitch. "...or you die."

‎Elijah refused to give Dante the satisfaction of reacting. "Sounds like you're giving me a non choice."

‎Dante smirked. "Exactly."

‎The tension between them was suffocating. Neither moved, neither backed down.

‎Then, Elijah's lips curled into a slow, defiant smile.

‎"Alright, Moretti. You want me under your protection?" He lifted a hand and to Dante's surprise, let his fingers graze the edge of his suit collar. "Let's see if you can keep up."

‎Dante's smirk deepened, his eyes darkening with something unmistakable.

‎"Oh, tesoro," he murmured, voice thick with promise. "I was counting on you saying that."