Page 6 of Chains of Obsession

I lean in, brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. She trembles beneath my touch, but not just from fear. That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? The war inside her. The part of her that wants to hate me, destroy me, fight me and the part that knows she never truly had a choice.

“You will learn, Amelia. That some cages aren’t meant to be escaped. They are meant to beworn.” I whisper, my hand trailing down her spine.

She jerks against the chains, fury flashing in her eyes, but I only smile.

“This is absurd. You think forcing me into this marriage will somehow erase what your family did?” she says, spinning around to face me.

Her anger is a palpable thing, crackling in the air between us. I loosen my tie and toss it onto a nearby chair, taking my time before answering. “Erase it? No. But it ensures that you don’t meet the same fate as your father.”

Her eyes burn with rage, the golden flecks catching the light. “Don’t you dare talk about my father,” she snaps.

I take a step closer. “Your father made a choice. He chose loyalty to the wrong side. This marriage ensures that you don’t make the same mistake.”

Her laugh is bitter, sharp. “You think this is loyalty? This is a prison.”

“Call it whatever you like,” I say, taking another step. “But you’ll fulfill your role, Amelia. You will do it without jeopardizing the fragile peace we’ve created.”

Her chest rises and falls with quick, angry breaths, her defiance unwavering. “You can force me into this marriage, Matteo. But you’ll never control me.”

Her words are a challenge, and something in me snaps. I close the distance between us in one swift motion, my hand wrapping against her throat. “Careful. You’re playing with fire.”

She glares at me, her lips parting to unleash another tirade, but I silence her the only way I know will work. I kiss her. It’s not gentle, not soft. It’s a collision, a battle, my anger meeting hers in a clash of wills. She fights me, her hands pushing against my chest, but then something shifts. Her resistance melts into something else entirely, and she kisses me back with the same ferocity. When we finally pull apart, her eyes meet mine, and for the first time tonight, she looks shaken.

“Don’t mistake this for surrender,” she says, her voice trembling but firm.

I let a slow, dark smile spread across my face. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I step back, giving her space, though every instinct screams at me to stay close. I walk to the door and close it behind me, I allow myself a moment to breathe. My lips still tingle from the kiss, and my mind races with thoughts I shouldn’t be having. Amelia is a flame, and I’m already burned. I don’t go back into the room after I leave her.

Not yet. The walls feel too close, the air too thick, and I can still taste her anger, her defiance, her fire. It’s intoxicating and infuriating all at once, and I can’t afford to lose control. I make my way to the study, the only place in this sprawling estate where I can think clearly. The whiskey from earlier sits untouched on the desk, the amber liquid glowing faintly under the warm light.

I pour another glass and lean against the edge of the desk, staring at nothing in particular. Amelia is now my wife.The word feels foreign, even in my own mind. Marriage is a transaction, a tool, a binding agreement with benefits that extend far beyond the personal. But with her, it’s different. She isn’t a woman who will quietly play the part that’s been assigned to her. She’s a flame that refuses to be extinguished, no matter how hard I try to snuff it out. I down the whiskey in one go, the burn a welcome distraction from the heat that still lingers from our kiss.

The night stretches on, and eventually, I can’t avoid it any longer. I return to the room. When I enter, the first thing I notice is the dim light from the bedside lamp, casting soft shadows across the room. The second is Amelia—still in her wedding dress.

The intricate lace and delicate fabric should make her look fragile, but Amelia is anything but. She sits on the edge of the bed, back rigid, hands clenched in her lap. The soft glow of the lamp catches on the silver cuffs still locked around her wrists, a stark contrast against her delicate skin.

But it’s the collar around her throat that draws my attention, the small key hanging from the front glinting in the dim light. A symbol. A promise. A warning. My breath deepens as I take in the sight of her. Bound and branded. Showing she is mine. She shifts under my gaze, her fingers grazing the cold metal around her throat before curling into fists.

“Take it off.”

I arch a brow, stepping closer. “No.”

Her glare sharpens. “I’m not a possession.”

I chuckle, low and dark. “Oh,amore mia, you are exactly that.”

I reach out, tracing the delicate curve of her jaw before letting my fingers trail down to the cool steel encircling her throat. She tenses, but she doesn’t move away.

“The key. Give it to me.” she grits out.

I toy with the small key between my fingers, as it sits just above her collarbone.

“This key?. It’s not for the collar, Amelia. It’s for everything else.”

I wrap the chain around my fingers, tugging just enough to make her breath hitch. “Your choices. Your surrender.”

She jerks her head away, fire flashing in her eyes. “I will never surrender to you.”

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