Page 3 of Chains of Obsession

“She will. She’ll fight, and she’ll curse my name. But she’ll come to understand. Resistance doesn’t matter when the outcome is inevitable.”

Enzo doesn’t respond, but I can feel his unease. He doesn’t understand—this obsession, this need. And he doesn’t have to.

“No one touches her but me. Make sure the men know that. If anyone disobeys, they won’t live long enough to regret it.”

“Understood Boss.”

I flick the cigarette into the rain, watching the ember sizzle out. “She’ll be scared. She’ll hate me for taking her freedom. But I’ll give her something more. Power. Protection. A place in this world that no one else can offer her.”

Tomorrow, Amelia Ricci’s world will shatter. In the ruins, I’ll build something new. Something unbreakable. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already mine.

This was never meant to be gentle. From the moment I decided to take her, I knew it would require chains—literal or otherwise. The kind that would bind her to me, keep her from running, ensure she understood that escape was not an option. I planned it meticulously, each detail carefully calculated. Amelia wouldn’t just walk into my life; she would be dragged into it, her freedom sacrificed on the altar of my obsession. She’d resist, of course—she wasn’t the type to yield easily—but that’s what made her perfect. Chains can’t bind someone who’s already broken; they need someone with fire, someone who’ll fight until they have no choice but to surrender.

The rain falls in relentless sheets, soaking the cobblestone streets and muffling the sounds of the city. I watch her from the shadows, my presence cloaked in the anonymity of the night. Amelia Ricci moves with a defiant grace that only makes my obsession grow. She has no idea I’m here, no idea she’s being watched. Her life has been unraveling for months, her father’s death and Luca’s betrayal leaving her vulnerable, isolated. But even in her grief, she radiates strength, a kind of fierce resilience that draws me in like a moth to a flame. She doesn’t cower; she doesn’t break. Not yet. But she will. I lean against the damp brick wall, my coat heavy with rain and the weight of the decision I’ve made. I’ve orchestrated every piece of this puzzle, manipulated every player, to bring her to this moment. Luca was easy to sway—desperate men always are.

Offering him salvation in exchange for Amelia was almost too simple. He didn’t even ask questions. Just nodded, signed his sister away, and delivered her into my hands. The thought of Luca, slimy and pathetic, makes my jaw tighten. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. But he’s useful, at least for now. I turn my attention back to Amelia. She’s walking quickly, her umbrella struggling against the wind. She doesn’t belong here, in this world of shadows and blood, but that’s exactly why she has to stay. I’ll make her belong. She pauses, glancing over her shoulder as if sensing me. My heart quickens, though I don’t move. She can’t see me; I made sure that I stayed in the shadows. Still, the sharpness of her gaze, the way her lips press into a determined line—it sends a thrill through me.Soon, Amelia,I think, my grip tightens on the handle of my umbrella.Soon, you’ll know what it means to be truly mine.She continues walking, oblivious to the monster lurking just out of sight. She will realize too late that her brother sold her soul and life to the devil.To me.The rain intensifies, each drop a drumbeat in the symphony of my plans.

I step out of the shadows and into the night, my path clear, my resolve unshakable.Amelia Ricci will be mine.No matter what it takes.She’s beautiful, yes—ethereal in a way that seems almost untouchable—but it’s not just her beauty that’s drawn me to this moment.

It’s her fire, the steel in her spine even when she should be broken by grief. I’ve studied her long enough to know she’s not the type to cower, even when her world is falling apart. I didn’t expect to feel this pull, this gnawing need that burrowed its way into my very soul. It wasn’t supposed to be personal. The plan is simple: take her, force her into the contract, and secure the alliance that would solidify my empire. But the more I’ve watched her, the more I’ve wanted her. The black SUV idles atthe corner, the engine purring softly. My men are ready, waiting for my signal.

I take a final drag of my cigarette before flicking it into a puddle, the embers hissing as they die out. This is it. Amelia disappears into the narrow alley that leads to her apartment building, her umbrella barely shielding her from the storm. I step out of the shadows, my stride purposeful and silent. She doesn’t notice me until it’s too late.

“Amelia,” I say, my voice low and firm.

She freezes, turning toward me with wide, startled eyes. The fear flickers across her face for only a moment. “Who the hell are you?” she demands, her voice steady despite the tremor I can see in her hands.

I step closer, my towering frame blocking her path. “The man who’s about to change your life.”

Before she can react, my men emerge from the darkness, their movements swift and precise. She fights them—God, she fights like a hellcat—but it’s futile. Her cries are muffled as a cloth is pressed to her mouth, and within seconds, she goes limp. I catch her before she falls, her weight unfamiliar in my arms but strangely fitting.

For a brief moment, I allow myself to study her face up close—the long lashes fanning against her cheeks, the curve of her lips, the vulnerability she can’t hide when unconscious.

“Let’s go,” I bark, my voice harsher than I intended.

We load her into the SUV, and I take the seat beside her, my eyes never leaving her face. The city fades into the background as we drive toward the estate where her new life awaits. She’ll hate me when she wakes up, and that’s fine. I don’t expect anything else. What she doesn’t know is that her hate won’t matter. I don’t care if she despises me, curses me, fights me at every turn. She will be mine. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already lost.

The drive to the Mansion is quiet, except for the low hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the storm outside. My men are smart enough to keep their mouths shut, sensing the dark mood radiating off me.

I lean back in my seat, my fingers brushing against the smooth leather, but my focus remains on Amelia. She stirs slightly, her lashes fluttering against her pale skin. It won’t be long now. I glance at my watch, the second hand ticking away the moments until she wakes and our battle begins. When we arrive, the gates to the estate swing open with a groan, the headlights slicing through the rain as we pull into the long driveway.

The sprawling mansion looms ahead, its shadow swallowing us whole. I step out first, barking orders at my men to handle Amelia with care. She’s carried inside, her limp form cradled like something fragile—though I know she’s anything but. In the grand foyer, the crystal chandelier above casts fractured light across her face as they lay her on the plush sofa. She looks deceptively peaceful, a far cry from the hurricane I know will rage when she opens her eyes.

“Prepare the guest suite,” I instruct my housekeeper, who scurries off with a curt nod. The guest suite is a formality until the wedding. We both know she’ll never leave my sight. I take a seat across from her, my elbows resting on my knees as I lace my fingers together. The anticipation coils tightly in my chest, a mix of tension and excitement.

How will she react? Will she scream, cry, fight? Or will she surprise me again, with that sharp tongue and unyielding spirit? A low groan escapes her lips, and her fingers twitch. I lean forward, my eyes narrowing as she begins to wake. Her lashes lift slowly, her gaze unfocused at first before clarity snaps into place and then, the fire.

“What the—” she starts, sitting up too quickly. She wavers, clutching her head as she tries to make sense of her surroundings.

“Good evening,” I say smoothly, my voice cutting through her confusion like a blade.

Her eyes snap to mine, wide and furious. “What have you done? Where am I?”

“Somewhere safe. For now.” I reply, my tone calm, measured.

Her jaw clenches, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You can’t just—what the hell is this? Who the hell are you?”

I stand, letting the weight of my presence fill the space between us. “I’m Matteo Moretti. As of tonight, you belong to me sweetheart.”

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