Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

Vivian stood in front of the mirror, slipping into the red high heels that Bryson had meticulously prepared for her. She observed her reflection with red lips, dressed to exude a mature and seductive charm. Everyone marveled at her beauty, everyone except Vivian herself, who felt as cheap as a prostitute.

She was certain this wasn’t the look she liked, but it was what men preferred. Men fancied exquisite, pretty, sexy women with height, but that wasn’t her, not the real her.

She was just a perfectly wrapped gift, soon to be delivered by her father to the Hargrave family, to Alajos.

“You really are beautiful, Vivian,” her mother said as she embraced her, wiping away tears and gently stroking her hair. She blessed her sincerely: “You will be happy.”

“No,” Vivian sobbed, covering her face. She was terrified, for the arranged marriage with the Hargrave family was another inescapable cage.

“Don’t be afraid, Vivian. All girls must get married. Alajos will make a good husband, and your father wouldn’t harm you,” Tasneem counseled, unable to help Vivian escape this arranged marriage. Perhaps to her, Alajos truly was a good match.

“After the engagement party, we’ll return to Los Angeles, but Vilem will stay with you. You won’t be too lonely. Take care of yourself and don’t be sad. We will meet again one day,” Tasneem whispered, hugging her. “Take care of yourself, promise me, okay?”

“I will, mom. You take care of yourself too.” Vivian knew no one could save her from the arrangements her father had made. She could only walk step by step into the marriage cage he had built for her, dressed in the gorgeous red dress.

Bryson valued this engagement party highly; it was the most important alliance between the Los Angeles and Houston mafias, promising unimaginable and lasting benefits. For this, he had dressed Vivian with great care, attempting to make her the most beautiful girl of the day. And of course, he had succeeded.

To signify his importance, he donned his most expensive and finest suit, as did Joseph and Vilem. They shed their robber’s aura, dressing like gentlemen.

Tasneem, arm-in-arm with her husband, looked beautiful today in a light purple dress, elegant and dignified. The pearls on her necklace, each full and round, perfectly framed her graceful and slender neck.

She also had beautiful golden hair, the epitome of a graceful lady of status. But Bryson seemed angry; he disliked the purple dress Tasneem wore, even though it was her favorite color.

Vivian averted her eyes quietly, staring blankly at her fingers.

That was her father, the Capo-rough, cruel, dictatorial.

Would Alajos be like her father? Would she end up like her mother?

Vivian was scared. Scared of becoming like her mother, scared of losing her freedom, scared of being trapped forever in the Capo’s prison.

She feared an unhappy life.

The car silently carried them towards the Hargrave mansion. The closer they got, the more nervous Vivian became.

Vilem, worried, took her hand, which was sweaty with nervousness. “Vivian… let’s run away.”

Vilem opened his mouth but uttered no sound. He knew how absurd this idea was. Joseph was in charge of guarding them, ensuring no unusual behavior, making escape impossible.

Vilem was saddened, unable to save his sister.

Vivian was also sad. She squeezed Vilem’s hand back, wanting to tell him, “I’m okay, I can do this, it’s alright.” But she couldn’t lie to herself; she wasn’t okay, she couldn’t do this, she wanted to escape.

The Hargrave mansion was vast. Vivian had learned from her father that it belonged to Alajos’s aunt, Mrs. Yazmin, who looked so elegant and noble today.

“Beautiful girl, welcome,” said Mrs. Yazmin, not stinting in expressing her affection with a hug.

The Hargrave brothers, accompanying their aunt, waited at the door. The guests had all arrived, looking on in awe and envy at the warmly received family, whispering among themselves, their probing gazes lingering on Vivian, making her uncomfortable.Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

She felt like a lamb awaiting slaughter.

“You look really beautiful today,” Simpson whispered intimately into her ear, his demeanor showing no hint of the anger from two days ago. “Dear sister-in-law, you truly surprise me.”

Simpson was too close for comfort, his masculine presence enveloping her. Vivian’s face heated up as she stepped back to get a clear view of Simpson’s face-he was indeed very tall.

Vivian estimated him to be sixfeet four inches tall, and Alajos was likely a few inches taller, about the same height as her brother Joseph. Even in heels, she only came up to their shoulders; their stature was like a mountain to her.

This displeased Vivian. She too longed for the towering height of models in magazines.

“My beauty is not for you,” Vivian said. She had to admit that Simpson was tall and handsome, with deep brown eyes and brown hair, a high nose that lent depth to his features, and a smile that gave him a roguish charm.

No one could refuse a dashing nobleman, but Vivian knew he wasn’t as approachable as he seemed. He too was a Made Man, and he too could take up a gun to kill.

“Of course,” Simpson replied, unfazed by Vivian’s rejection. “Today you belong to my brother, Alajos.”

“Now, it’s time for you to join him,” Simpson said, directing her to where Alajos stood, surrounded by many people, both men and women.

Alajos was also a handsome man, his features even sharper, nose hawk-like, lips thin and cold, he already possessed the authority and presence of a Capo.

He held a glass of wine, his eyes, similar to Simpson’s, fixed intently on Vivian, emitting a glare that frightened her.

He was waiting for Vivian to come to him.

Swallowing nervously, Vivian moved her feet, slowly making her way to where he stood before his patience ran out.

Alajos drained his glass in one gulp as Vivian approached, and she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze. Her long eyelashes quivered, her sea-blue eyes clearly showing fear, but she still tried to hold his gaze.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hargrave,” Vivian said, aware of the gasps around her, the men’s veiled praises, and the women’s undisguised jealousy. A strange emotion welled up inside her, prompting her to puff out her chest and face her fiance’s scrutiny with stunning grace.

But she couldn’t hold out for even a minute. Alajos’s gaze was too aggressive, as if she were a piece of meat to be devoured.

Vivian stepped back, but Alajos suddenly reached out and pulled her in, his sturdy arm wrapping around her waist, drawing her into his embrace, “I am pleased, you are still so beautiful today, Vivian.”

“Now, please come with me.”