Page 12 of Chains of Obsession

I intend to grab her legs to keep her there, but she is too quick this time. She escapes my grasp, and my cock falls out just before I cum. I spread my thick white seed all over her and the bed.

“There will be new sheets in the morning.” I tell her breathlessly.

As the night stretches on, the boundary between love, hate, desire and disdain, blurs completely. I don’t know what this is anymore, what we are—whether we’re two enemies caught in a dangerous game or something else entirely. But I know one thing for certain. This… this will change everything. This marriage is turning into more than a business deal and I’m not sure either of us is ready for it.

Chapter four

The Darker Side of Desire

Amelia

The aftermath of lastnight clings to me like a second skin. My body remembers every touch, every kiss, every moment we were lost in each other.

It’s maddening, infuriating, and impossibly magnetic. But as the sun spills through the window, reality sets in. This isn’t romance. It’s a prison, one gilded with wealth, power, and lies. Matteo is nowhere to be found when I wake up. The bed is cold beside me, as though he left hours ago. For a moment, I wonder if last night just another move in his endless game of control. But the ache in my body reminds me it was real. And that terrifies me.

Matteo’s obsessive control continues at breakfast. A place setting is prepared for me at the head of the grand dining table, an untouched plate of fruit and a steaming cup of espresso waiting as though my preferences were memorized. A silent staff watches from the corners of the room, their eyes averted but their presence heavy. When I try to leave, a man in a crisp suit steps forward, blocking my way.

“Signora Moretti, the boss insists you eat.” he says, his tone is polite.

My jaw tightens. “Theboss?”

“Yes, signora,” he replies, bowing slightly. “It’s for your safety.”

I glare at him, my appetite evaporating. Matteo’s reach extends even here, into the mundane moments of my day, reminding me that I’m not just his wife. I’m his possession.

I sit, fuming as I pick at the fruit, my mind racing with thoughts of escape, of resistance. But deep down, I know that every door in this house is locked, every step outside guarded by eyes that report back to him. When I’m finished eating, I walk through the halls until I find Matteo in his office, surrounded by men who carry an air of authority and danger. Their conversation halts the moment I step inside, their eyes darting to me before they nod to Matteo and file out.

“Amelia,” he says, leaning back in his chair. The way he looks at me is infuriating, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and he’s already two steps ahead.

“I’m not a child, Matteo. You can’t keep me locked away like some fragile doll.”

He rises slowly, his movements deliberate and predatory. “I keep you safe because I have to. You may hate me for it, but the moment you step out of line, you become a target. Do you understand what that means?”

“I’m already a target. You made sure of that the moment you dragged me into this life.”

His jaw tightens, his dark eyes narrowing as he steps closer. “You think this is a choice? That I wanted this for you? That I wanted you? You’re in my world now, Amelia and that means you follow my rules.”

He grabs my wrist, not hard enough to hurt me but firm enough to make his point. I pull my arm free, my heart pounding as I meet his gaze. “You don’t own me, Matteo.”

He leans in, his face inches from mine, his voice grows low. “I do own you, Amelia. Whether you like it or not.”

The tension between us is unbearable, crackling like a live wire. I should walk away, but something in his eyes hold me in place—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly masked by his usual arrogance.

“Why do you care so much? Is it control you want, or something else?”

His lips curl into a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” I challenge, stepping closer.

For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze locked on mine. Then, with a suddenness that takes my breath away, he grabs me by the waist, pulling me against him. His lips crash into mine, not with tenderness but with raw, unrestrained need. I should resist. I should shove him away and remind him that I hate him. But instead, I kiss him back, matching his intensity with my own. My fingers tangle in his hair as his hands roam my body, claiming me with a possessiveness that makes my blood boil and my heart race. When we finally break apart, both of us are breathless, our foreheads pressed together.

“This is madness,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“Maybe,” he replies, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “But it’s our madness.”

And as much as I want to deny it, I know he’s right. I pushed him away, my hands trembling as I try to regain control of my breath—and my thoughts. His touch lingers like a ghost on my skin, igniting something I can’t fully comprehend. He doesn’t stop me from stepping back, his dark eyes watching me like a predator who knows his prey has nowhere to run.

“I don’t want this,” I lie, my voice faltering.

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