Chapter 9
Possession & Defiance
Mary's POV
The next evening, the De La Cruz estate buzzed with life.
The entire mansion had been transformed into a lavish gathering of New York's elite, business moguls, politicians, and of course, the underbelly of the mafia world.
It was an event held by Don Victor himself, a night to remind everyone just how powerful the De La Cruz family was, and how they are not people to be messed around with.
Andrew, of course, was in his element.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, he exuded confidence, power, and something more dangerous, ownership. He had barely left my side all night, his hand resting on my waist, his presence suffocating, as if daring anyone to forget who I belonged to.
I was starting to suffocate, tired at his clingyness.
This was exactly what I had feared, being paraded around like his prizef possession.
And I refused to let that happen.
"Andrew," I said sweetly, placing my hand on his chest. His gaze flicked to mine, and I gave him my most innocent smile. "I'm going to get a drink."
His fingers tightened slightly on my waist. "You don't need to. I'll have someone bring it to you."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I need to stretch my legs. Unless, of course, you plan to chain me to your side all night?"
His lips curved, but there was no humor in it. "Don't test me, Mary."
I leaned in, just enough to let my breath tease his jaw. "I wouldn't dream of it."
Liar.
I slipped from his grasp before he could stop me, weaving through the crowd with deliberate ease.
I felt his eyes on me, burning, tracking my every move.
Good. Let him watch.
I wasn't some possession he could flaunt.
I reached the bar, exhaling softly as I leaned against the counter. "Whiskey, neat," I told the bartender.
"Interesting choice," a deep voice drawled beside me.
I turned to find a tall, handsome man watching me with amused curiosity. He was a little bit older than Andrew, maybe early thirties,or late twenties. He had a dark, slicked-back hair and piercing green eyes that held a knowing glint.
His suit screamed wealth, but there was something about him, something sharp and calculating.
"You don't look like a whiskey kind of girl," he mused.
I smirked. "And you don't look like someone who should make this kind of assumptions."
He chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender. "Fair enough. Elijah Brooke," he introduced himself smoothly. "And you, I assume, are the infamous new wife of Andrew De La Cruz?"
The way he said it, like it was a joke made me bristle.
"In the flesh, soul and spirit," I replied.
Elijah tilted his head, studying me with open interest. "I have to admit, You are very beautiful and , i didn't expect you to be... different."
I raised a brow. "Thanks for the compliment and also Let me guess. Someone weaker?"
"Someone tamer," he corrected. "Andrew doesn't usually go for women who bite back."
I took a slow sip of my drink, meeting his gaze. "Maybe that's exactly why he chose me."
Elijah smirked, his eyes flickering with amusement. "Intriguing. I can see why he doesn't let you wander too far, if you were mine, I wouldn't even let you leave my side."
I scoffed at his words. "And that's why I am not yours but his besides He doesn't let me do anything."
"Then what are you doing here, talking to me?. A stranger"
A slow, wicked smile spread across my lips. "Pushing his buttons."
Elijah let out a low laugh, clearly entertained. "You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart."
"I'm aware."
And just like that, I felt the shift in the air.
A sharp, possessive energy cut through the atmosphere, sending a shiver down my spine.
I knew before I even turned.
Andrew was behind me.
His presence was a force, a storm rolling in, dark and lethal.
Elijah noticed too, his smirk deepening as he took a casual sip of his drink. "Ah. Speak of the devil."
I barely had time to react before Andrew was there, his hand curling around my wrist in a grip that was just shy of painful.
"Walk. Now," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.
I resisted the urge to shiver. "Excuse me?"
His jaw ticked, his icy blue eyes locked onto mine. "I said. Walk."
I held my ground for half a second too long, just to push him further, before finally letting him drag me away from the bar.
Andrew didn't stop until we were in an empty hallway, away from prying eyes.
Then, without warning, he spun me around and caged me against the wall, his hands slamming on either side of my head.
My breath hitched.
"You think this is a game?" His voice was a whisper, but it was filled with rage.
I tilted my chin up, refusing to cower. "I don't know what you mean."
His eyes darkened, burning with something possessive, something primal. "Don't play dumb, Mary. Flirting with Elijah? Do you have any idea who he is?"
I smirked. "Jealous?"
His fingers curled into fists. "Elijah isn't just some businessman, sweetheart. He's my worst enemy, his from our rival mafia family, The Brooke's. If you know what's good for you, don't get yourself associated with him. And unlike me, he doesn't play nice."
I leaned in, just enough to let my lips ghost over his ear. "And so…. Only that then why did you look like you were ready to kill him?"
Andrew's control snapped.
In one swift move, he grabbed my chin and crushed his lips against mine.
It wasn't gentle.
It was punishing, claiming, like he needed to remind me exactly who I belonged to.
I gasped against his mouth, and he took advantage, his tongue pushing past my lips, deepening the kiss with a hunger that sent heat pooling in my stomach.
I hated him.
And yet, I melted.
My hands found his shirt, gripping the fabric as he pressed me harder against the wall, his body a solid wall of heat.
His fingers skimmed down my side, grazing my thigh through the slit in my dress, teasing, taunting
Then he pulled away.
Leaving me breathless.
Shaken.
Wanting.
His lips were still inches from mine as he smirked. "Careful, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice husky. "You might start enjoying this, and would want more of it"
I glared at him, my chest rising and falling rapidly. "Screw you."
He chuckled, stepping back. "Not tonight."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me there, furious and aching.
Damn him.
Damn me.
This was war.
And I was losing.