OBSESSED

OBSESSED


Marcello's POV

I didn't know what was real when I woke up for a languid moment, I thought I was still drifting through that gray in-between of life and death—numb, slow, and strangely peaceful. But then her hair fragrance drifted to me, a light combination of jasmine and vanilla, and I blinked into the gentle glow of a bedside lamp. The pain in my chest was dull, no longer sharp and clawing, like the weight of a memory instead of the wound that it was.

Layla.

She was sitting beside the bed, all wrapped up in herself as if she'd been there for hours, maybe even days. Her eyes were tired, the corners a little red from crying, but the moment I moved—just a twitch of my fingers—her whole face lit up like sunrise. She leaned forward, tracing my cheek with the back of her hand.

“You’re awake,” she whispered, voice cracking as if she’d been holding back tears for far too long. “Marcello… oh God, you’re awake.”

I managed a weak smile, attempting to lift my hand. She grasped it at once, kissing my knuckles as though that was the sole force anchoring her to the ground. I gazed at her for a long time, tracing the line of her cheekbones, the strands of hair falling across her temple, the tentative manner in which her hands trembled even as she held me steady.

"You're beautiful," I said to her, my voice hoarse and slow. "Even when you look like hell."

She laughed sobbingly, rubbing at her face. "You jerk. Don't scare me like that again."

"Didn't exactly plan it." I winced as I shifted on the bed.

Layla puffed up the pillows behind me, her fingers gentle but precise, as though she knew all the spots that would hurt and all the spots to avoid. Her touch soothed me more than morphine would have.

"How long have I been out?" I questioned.

"Two days. You lost a great deal of blood."

"And Everyone?"

Her smile faded, and for an instant, I glimpsed a glimmer of fear. "Everything is happening so fast. I don't know whats happening anymore.
“And I don't know whats happening with my family, Martina I haven't spoken to her in days, she must be so worried about me"

I nodded slowly. The tranquility I'd woken up with was already starting to unravel. My head throbbed with the news I had to carry, the truth I had to tell.

"Layla," I said, drawing out the words, "there's something I need to tell you. Something about the ball. About all of this."

She looked at me, her eyes wide and intent.

"The attack on us wasn't random. It was revenge. Part of an exchange."

She frowned. "Exchange? What exchange?"

I took a deep breath. "Nicholas struck a deal to obtain his position as the Don. He wanted the other families' respect—to be feared by them. So he made a connection with the darker side of the Rucci family, something old and tainted. He promised them something they wanted… and they promised in return to come under his control."

Her eyes were already brimming with tears. "What did he promise them?"

I hesitated. "You, Silvio, Martina were pawns, Layla. Not by accident. He knew they'd come for you. He only hoped I'd keep you alive long enough to keep up the illusion of control."

She pulled back slightly, her face shattered. "No… no, that doesn't make sense. Nicholas isn't he Silvio's uncle? would he do something like that."

He would. And he did. He played both sides. He wanted to seem a kingmaker while keeping his enemies close. But he had no idea how far the Rucci's would go. And now they are going to want revenge. we were almost caught. And I…" I gestured to the bandages on my chest. "Barely escaped.".

Layla sprang up, her feet moving across the room as she shook her head, as if she were trying to shake the truth from her head.

"Oh my God. Oh no. No no no…" she whispered. "Marcello, you're saying Nicholas betrayed me? For a title? For fear?"

"To prove himself as Don," I said to her. "He wanted them to know he wasn't afraid to kill people. That he had power over the people who were closest to him. You were supposed to be bait, Layla . But it didn't exactly happen the way he planned."

She stopped pacing and faced me. Her face was pale, her fists clenched at her sides.

He knew they'd come for you," she whispered. "He just didn't care."

"He thought he could control it. That he could step in at the last second. But he forgot something."

"What?"

"He forgot that we're not pawns on his board. We're human beings. And human beings don't always move the way you expect them to."

She came back to me and sat down next to the bed with a solid thud. Her hands reached out and found mine again, trembling.

"Marcello," she whispered, "why are you telling me this?"

I looked her straight in the eye. "Because I I'm a very complicated person. And I want you to know what we're involved in. I'm not going to lie to you, not now. Not when it's all coming together ."

Her eyes welled up with tears, a single tear tracing its path down her cheek. " But what can we do?"

"We stay smart. We live in the shadows. And when the time is right, we choose our side. Not for Nicholas. Not for anyone else. But for ourselves."

She stepped closer and pressed her forehead against mine. Her tears moistened my skin, but her kiss was warm, desperate, and full of something stronger than all the titles in the world: sincerity.

"I'm with you," she whispered.

“but only if you promise to not let anything happen to my family"

I turned to look at her " when this all clears up I'm going to have to chase you again”

"But why?" she asks her eyes lighting up

" Let's just say I'm obsessed with you”

" let's just say I won't give you such a hard time next time”

And in that moment, despite the pain I was feeling and the
betrayal ahead , despite the cruelty I was pulling her in, I felt a sense of satisfaction.