His Innocent Obsession

Name: His Innocent Obsession
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Estelle Hayes

Adventure | Ongoing

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Isla Hart has spent her entire life protected from the truth. Sheltered in the cold, opulent mansion her father built with wealth stained by secrets, she has never known the world outside the safety of her gilded cage. She's been raised in the comfort of ignorance-her innocence preserved like a precious gem, untouched by the horrors lurking just beneath the surface. But nothing lasts forever. Her father, a man with debts deeper than anyone knows, has been in the claws of a dangerous criminal syndicate for years. And now, with everything collapsing around him, he makes an unthinkable decision to save himself: he will auction off his daughter's virginity to the highest bidder. The price of her body is nothing compared to the price of her father's survival. At twenty-one, Isla is thrust into a world she never knew existed-one where power and corruption reign, and she is nothing more than a transaction, a pawn in a game she doesn't understand. An underground auction, hidden in the dark corners of New York's criminal elite, will determine her fate. But as the bidding begins, there's one man who stands out from the rest. Vincenzo "Vince" Moretti is not like the others. A mafia don who commands respect through bloodshed and fear, Vince is a man who has made his fortune off ruthlessness. At thirty-seven, he has built an empire that stretches across continents, feared by everyone who dares cross him. Cruel, cold, and indifferent, Vince has never allowed weakness to cloud his judgment. But when his eyes land on Isla, everything shifts. She is an innocent, untouched by the darkness of the world he controls. She's everything he shouldn't want, but something about her purity calls to him. Vince outbids every man in the room, securing Isla as his own. She is no longer just a piece of property for sale-she is now his possession. A contract signed in blood, a life bound by the chains of obligation, desire, and power. To Isla, the world as she knew it shatters. Her father's debts are wiped clean in exchange for her innocence, but in the cold, unyielding world of Vince's mafia empire, she is now nothing more than a beautiful hostage-trapped in a life of submission. But with Vince, things are different. He is cruel to everyone else, manipulative and tyrannical in his dealings. Yet, when it comes to Isla, there's a strange gentleness. A possessive tenderness. He keeps her close, under his watchful eye, as if she's a rare, delicate thing that no one else can touch. But his protection comes at a price. Vince will not let her go. He will mold her, shape her, and possess her in ways she never thought possible. With every passing day, the line between desire and control blurs. Vince isn't just taking her body-he wants her heart, her mind, her soul. And as the days turn to weeks, Isla finds herself torn between survival and submission. She is drawn to him in a way she cannot escape, yet terrified of what she's becoming. But a storm is coming. Luca Santoro-Vince's former ally, now his deadliest rival-has been waiting for a weakness. A crack in Vince's otherwise unbreakable armor. And he has found it in Isla. Luca knows that Vince's obsession with Isla is his greatest vulnerability. He will stop at nothing to break her spirit and use her to bring Vince to his knees. His plan is simple: destroy Vince's empire by destroying Isla. Luca doesn't just want to own Isla-he wants to destroy what she means to Vince, and he will stop at nothing to make her his. The clock is ticking. As the tension between Vince and Luca escalates, Isla's world becomes even more dangerous. The mafia's brutal games are no longer just about loyalty and power-they're about survival. But the deeper Isla falls into Vince's world, the more she realizes that the man who controls everything around her is also controlling her heart. She cannot leave him, yet she knows that staying might cost her everything. Is she willing to lose herself in a man who sees her as both a possession and a passion? In a world where love and pain collide, Isla must decide if she can find freedom in submission or if her innocence will be the very thing that destroys her

R18+ Modern Mafia Age gap Arrogant/Dominant

Chapter 5 Fear

05-08 18:00

Chapter 1 The Auction

The day started like any other, though something in the air already felt wrong.

I woke to the sound of silence - not the gentle stillness of dawn, but a brittle, unnatural quiet that seemed to press against the walls. Our apartment always felt small, but today it felt suffocating, like it knew something I didn't.

Sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, falling in delicate beams over the worn floorboards and the threadbare rug that barely covered the chill of the wood beneath. I stayed in bed a little longer than I should have, buried beneath the faded floral blanket that still smelled faintly of lavender and laundry powder.

It was warm under the covers. Safe. Familiar.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? I'd always been safe. Too safe. My father had made sure of it. I wasn't allowed out after dark. I didn't have friends. I hadn't even had my first kiss. He said it was for my own good, that the world was full of wolves waiting to devour girls like me. Innocent girls.

I used to believe him.

Now I wasn't so sure.

Pushing myself up, I rubbed my eyes and slipped my feet over the edge of the bed. My nightgown clung to my thighs - soft, faded cotton, with a little tear near the hem. I padded into the hallway, noticing immediately that something was off.

No coffee brewing. No late-night television murmuring from the living room.

No sign of him.

"Dad?" I called softly, my voice echoing too loudly in the still air.

No answer.

I made my way to the kitchen and froze.

There was a note. Just one line, scrawled in my father's uneven handwriting and stuck to the fridge with a rusted magnet:

Be ready by 6.

No explanation. No greeting. Just a command.

I stared at it for a long time, a shiver running down my spine despite the heat. He'd been acting strange lately - taking calls in hushed voices, locking the door to his office, avoiding my questions. Sometimes men would visit late at night, never staying long. Men who looked at me too long. Who smiled without kindness.

A few days ago, I'd heard shouting through the walls. Then glass breaking. He came out with blood on his shirt and told me he'd tripped.

I didn't believe him.

I never asked questions. That was the unspoken rule between us.

But now I was beginning to wonder if I should have.

Just as I turned away from the fridge, I noticed something laid carefully across the back of the chair in the corner.

A dress.

Not one of mine.

It was deep crimson - satin, expensive-looking, clinging to itself like liquid fire. The bodice was tight. The hem short. And it was strapless. Daring. Seductive.

I swallowed hard. My skin prickled as I reached for it, letting my fingers slide across the fabric. Cold. Smooth. Designed to make a statement.

A dress meant for a woman.

But I wasn't one. Not really. I was still trying to figure out what I was.

Before I could ask myself why it was there, I heard the front door open.

Then his voice. Low. Tired. "Isla?"

I turned around as my father stepped into the kitchen, his expression drawn. His suit looked borrowed. Slightly too big at the shoulders. His eyes flicked between me and the dress.

"I need you to wear that tonight," he said.

I frowned. "What's going on?"

"It's... it's a favor," he said, avoiding my gaze. "To help me. We're going to a dinner."

"A dinner?" I glanced back at the dress. "Then why that?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. It was the first time he'd touched me in weeks, and I noticed how unsteady he seemed. How desperate.

"Please, baby," he whispered. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. You're going to help me fix everything."

Help him?

Fix what?

My stomach twisted. My hands trembled at my sides.

But I didn't fight him. I didn't know how.

I nodded.

He gave me a weak smile. "Good girl."

Then he left the room, leaving the scent of cheap cologne and stress behind him.

I picked up the dress, It felt like sin in silk.

I held it against my chest for a long time, staring at myself in the cracked bathroom mirror. It didn't look like me. I didn't look like me.

I wasn't the kind of girl who wore something like this. I was soft, pale, quiet. The kind of girl men never noticed. But this dress was loud. It didn't ask for attention-it demanded it.

My skin prickled as I slipped it over my body. The fabric clung to every innocent curve I'd never thought twice about. The bodice pushed up my breasts, made me look fuller than I was, older than I felt. The hem skimmed my thighs in a way that made my breath catch.

I stared at myself. My cheeks were pink. My lips bare. My eyes wide and round like a doll's.

What the hell is going on?

A knock on the door pulled me back into the moment.

"I'm ready," I said, unsure if it was a lie.

When I stepped out, my father's eyes scanned me too fast, too nervously. He didn't say I looked beautiful. He didn't say I looked grown.

He said nothing at all.

Just led me silently down the stairs and out the front door.

A black car was waiting. A town car. Sleek. Expensive. Driven by a man in dark sunglasses and leather gloves despite the heat.

I hesitated.

My father touched my back.

"It's okay," he murmured. "They'll take good care of you."

They?

I turned to him, heart skipping. "Where are we going?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

Instead, he kissed my forehead like I was still five years old.

And just like that, the door closed behind me.

The inside of the car smelled like leather and aftershave. Cold air whispered from the vents, brushing over my bare shoulders. I sat stiffly, knees tight together, hands clenched in my lap. The driver didn't speak. Didn't glance at me. Just drove.

Tall buildings passed by, then dimmer streets. Then something changed. The city slipped away, and we began to climb a long, winding road up toward the hills.

The further we went, the more alone I felt.

What kind of dinner is this?

But even as I thought it, something in my chest said I already knew.

The car rolled to a stop in front of a wrought-iron gate that stretched high above the ground like twisted arms. Beyond it, stone pillars lined a circular drive, leading to a mansion that looked like something out of a forgotten century. Grand. Cold. Watching.

A man stepped out from the shadows and approached the driver's window. Words were exchanged quietly. Then the gate creaked open, groaning like it hated to be disturbed.

My heart beat faster.

It's just a dinner.

It's not just a dinner.

The car eased forward.

Lights bathed the estate in gold, but there was no warmth in them. The front steps were flanked by statues-goddesses with blank eyes and broken wings. Inside, the entryway swallowed me whole. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Velvet drapes drawn tight over tall windows.

I'd never been anywhere like this.

I didn't belong here.

A woman in a tight black dress and red lipstick greeted me. She looked me over without smiling, without speaking, then motioned for me to follow.

I turned once, hoping to see my father.

But the door shut behind me.

I was led down a corridor that grew quieter with each step, the music and chatter from the front parlor fading into muffled ghosts. Finally, the woman opened a side door and motioned me inside.

I gasped.

There were others.

Girls. Five of them.

Each one dressed like me-in silk and satin and things meant to seduce. Some sat on the edge of plush sofas, others stood by the mirror, fixing trembling makeup. No one spoke. No one smiled.

One girl was crying quietly in the corner, mascara streaking down her cheeks. Another stared straight ahead, like she'd already left her body behind.

"What... what is this?" I whispered.

No one answered.

But I already knew.

That dress hadn't been a gift. It had been a costume.

And we were the show.