Emma friend

As they entered the grand ballroom, Damon’s grip tightened around Emma’s waist, his touch possessive and firm. She stiffened under his hand but didn’t pull away, though her annoyance was palpable.

“Don’t leave my side,” Damon murmured, his voice low and commanding.

Emma rolled her eyes, her irritation clear. “Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you, would I?” she snapped, repeating his earlier words in a mocking tone.

The room seemed to fall silent, every head turning in their direction. The sight of Damon Russo, the infamous, untouchable mafia king, standing so closely—so intimately—with a woman was enough to make jaws drop. His reputation was known far and wide, and this display of possession over someone was unheard of. Damon had never been seen with a woman in such a way, and the sheer force of his presence commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

Damon smirked, unfazed by the curious glances. If anything, he enjoyed the attention, especially knowing it would unsettle Emma. She was trapped in his world now, and every eye was on them.

As the night went on, Damon engaged in conversations with other powerful figures, his influence ever-present. But even as he spoke, his attention never strayed far from Emma. She had wandered over to the food counter, her eyes lighting up at the spread. Damon couldn’t help but watch, amusement flickering in his gaze as she sampled the hors d'oeuvres, nibbling away like a hamster lost in its favorite snack.

His gaze darkened as he noticed a man approach her. They seemed to know each other, laughing and talking like old friends. The sight of her carefree smile, so different from the way she was around him, stirred something dark inside Damon. His fists clenched at his sides, rage simmering beneath his composed exterior.

When the man leaned in, pulling Emma into a friendly hug, Damon’s restraint snapped. His entire body tensed, his jaw locked, and without a second thought, he strode toward them.

In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around Emma from behind, pulling her tightly against him. His grip was firm, possessive. Emma froze, her body stiffening in shock.

“D-Damon?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

The man, Jackson, looked equally stunned. His eyes widened as he recognized the infamous mafia king now glaring daggers at him. He swallowed hard, visibly scared.

Emma’s face flushed crimson as she realized the entire room was watching. “Let go of me,” she hissed quietly, her voice trembling with embarrassment and anger.

Damon ignored her plea, his gaze still locked on Jackson, a storm of fury brewing in his eyes. Without warning, he reached for the gun hidden beneath his jacket, pulling it out and aiming it at Jackson. Before anyone could react, a shot rang out, echoing through the ballroom.

The room became deathly silent, no one daring to look up or speak. Fear gripped every person in the ballroom, and even those closest to Damon watched with amusement, entertained by his display of dominance. They knew better than to interfere; they simply enjoyed the show, smirking at Jackson’s fate.

Emma’s heart stopped, her eyes wide with horror. “Damon, no!” she screamed, but it was too late. Jackson crumpled to the ground, clutching his shoulder as blood seeped through his suit.

The ballroom remained eerily quiet, the weight of Damon’s power hanging in the air. He grabbed Emma’s waist even tighter, pulling her closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating scent of her. His grip was unrelenting, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

“You’re mine,” he whispered softly but firmly, his breath hot against her skin.

Before Emma could respond, he swiftly guided her out of the ballroom, his hand never leaving her waist. The guests remained frozen.

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