Mr. Mafia boss is obsessed with me

I never meant to catch his attention.

I was just a waitress at La Rosa, a dimly lit Italian restaurant tucked away in the corner of Manhattan’s underworld. The kind of place where criminals sipped wine in tailored suits, and secrets slipped through the cracks of whispered conversations. I kept my head down, took orders, and prayed no one noticed me.

Then he walked in.

Luciano DeLuca. The name alone sent shivers down people’s spines. He was the youngest, most ruthless mafia boss the city had ever seen. Sharp jawline, cold grey eyes, and a presence that made the air heavy. Rumor had it he once smiled while ordering a hit. That night, he wasn’t smiling.

He stared at me like I was the only thing in the room.

I tried not to look, but every time I passed his table, his gaze followed me. Unblinking. Burning. I felt like a deer under the eyes of a predator—but it wasn’t fear that made my skin prickle. It was something else.

“Your name,” he said when I brought his drink.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He leaned in, voice smooth as velvet but deadly underneath. “Your name. I don’t like repeating myself.”

“Elena,” I whispered.

“Elena,” he repeated, like he was tasting it. “Beautiful name. I’ll see you after your shift.”

It wasn’t a request.

That night changed everything.

He didn’t take me to bed. Not yet. He took me to his penthouse suite that overlooked the city like he owned it—and in many ways, he did. He poured me wine, asked me questions, and listened like he actually cared. Like I wasn’t just some girl he saw once in a smoky restaurant.

Then he said it.

“I don’t trust people easily, Elena. But I trust my instincts. And they’re screaming that I need to protect you.”

“From what?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“From everyone. Including myself.”

I told myself I wouldn’t fall. That he was dangerous, that this was temporary. But days turned into weeks. He sent black cars to pick me up. Showered me with gifts I never asked for. Roses, silk dresses, diamond chokers with his initials on the clasp.

And always, always his eyes. Watching me like I was his salvation—or his possession.

One night, I found him in his office, blood on his hands, a gun on the table.

He looked up. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I should have run.

Instead, I walked in.

“I don’t care who you’ve killed,” I said, heart racing. “I want to know who you are without the blood, without the suits and guns.”

He looked at me like no one ever had. Vulnerable. Human.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I think you’re the only one who can help me find out.”

It wasn’t long before the threats started.

A rival family wanted him dead—and they knew about me. One morning I woke to a bullet hole in the windshield of the car he sent. Another night, his men found a note slipped under my apartment door: She dies, or you fall.

Luciano didn’t take it lightly.

He moved me into his home. Posted guards outside my door. I felt like a princess in a glass cage. Protected, yes. But also… trapped.

“You said you wanted to protect me,” I whispered one night as he held me in bed.

“I still do.”

“Then let me go.”

His arms tightened. “I can’t.”

But obsession is a double-edged blade.

He loved me with a violence that scared me. And I loved him with a desperation I didn’t understand. Even when he crushed his enemies without blinking. Even when he burned a rival’s club to the ground for threatening me. Even when he said, “If anyone touches you, Elena, I’ll put them in the ground.”

Part of me knew I should leave.

But a deeper part—the part that had felt invisible all my life—craved the way he looked at me. Like I was worth war.

The war came sooner than expected.

They came for me during a gala, dressed in tuxedos and fake smiles. I remember the scream, the struggle, the cold barrel of a gun pressed to my temple.

Then I remember Luciano.

Raging.

He killed three men before anyone could blink. Held me against his chest, hands shaking, whispering my name like a prayer. “I thought I lost you. I thought—God, Elena, if anything happened to you—”

“You didn’t,” I breathed. “I’m here.”

He kissed me like a man on fire. And I let him.

Now I sit by the window of his penthouse, looking out at the city he rules.

I’m not the same girl I was before. I’ve seen what obsession looks like. What it costs. But I’ve also seen love—twisted, yes, but real. Fierce. Relentless.

Luciano still scares me sometimes. Not because he might hurt me—but because I know he’d burn the world down to keep me.

I should be terrified.

Instead, I’m his.

Trapped in his world.

Claimed by his heart.

And maybe… I wouldn’t have it any other way.