Page 7 of My Ruthless Obsession

I select a pair of jeans and a simple red blouse, getting dressed and slipping on a pair of black ankle boots before leaving my room. If I’m going to be stuck here for who knows how long, I might as well learn my way around the place.

The house has three floors, so I decide to start at the top and work my way down. That’s where I meet Jenny, the housekeeper, who gives me a timid smile as I approach the double doors at the end of the hallway. Inside, there’s a fully equipped gym with every piece of exercise equipment imaginable. No wonder Marco is in such incredible shape. Even without seeing him shirtless, I can tell he has tight abs and that V-shaped muscle at his hips.

Leaving the impressive home gym behind, I head to the only other room on this floor but find it locked. Jenny is dusting an expensive painting nearby, and I consider asking her what’s inside. Then I think better of it, knowing Marco has it locked for a reason and I don’t want to get caught snooping around.

Speaking of getting caught, I’ve already taken note of the numerous cameras and realize I’m being watched. Although they were here before me—or, at least, I assume they were—they remind me I’m a captive and my every move is being recorded. Yet I do find it somewhat appealing to know that Marco can see what I’m doing, and he might even be watching me right now.

No one’s ever cared where I was or what I was up to before. Maybe I’m lying to myself to make this whole situation better, but it makes me feel… special to know that his eyes are on me.

Because I’m too prideful and refused to eat dinner last night, my stomach begins to growl. I pull out my phone to check the time and see that it’s already noon. No wonder I’m starving. I head for the kitchen, where I’m greeted by Paolo, Marco’s personal chef. His warm smile and genuine hospitality put me at ease. When he mentions Marco’s orders to ensure I’m eating properly, I’m reminded once again of my powerless position.

“You skipped breakfast, miss. Mr. Vanetti won’t be pleased. I promised him I’d take care of you.” Paolo returns his attention to the stove and stirs something that smells divine as it simmers in a sauté pan.

“Maybe we could keep it our little secret? Just this once.”

He narrows his gaze before shooting me a wink. “Just this once,” he reiterates with a smile, then adds cooked linguini to the pan and gives it a toss. He piles a heaping portion onto a plate, sprinkling it with parsley and presenting it to me.

“You made this for me?”

“I did, and I was just about to come looking for you. Mr. Vanetti was very adamant about his wishes.” Paolo laughs nervously.Oh, I’m sure he was.“I thought you might like to have lunch on the patio. It’s nice outside today.”

“That sounds great. Thank you.” I offer to take the plate from him but he insists on carrying it for me. A subtle reminder just how feared Marco is, even in his own home, and I shouldn’t take that lightly.

When we reach the expansive patio at the back of the house, Paolo leads me to a table at one of the cozy seating areas. It’s already been set with a vase of fresh-cut flowers, silverware, glassware, and a bottle of white wine. Seems odd to be drinking so early in the day. But “when in Rome,” I guess…

He arranges my plate on the placemat, handing the linen napkin to me to drape over my lap while he fills my glass. “Is there anything else I can get you, miss?”

“No, everything is lovely.”

Paolo nods with a quaint smile and pivots to leave when I stop him.

“Oh! Can I make one small request?”

“Of course, miss.”

“It’s Lyla. Just call me Lyla.”

The smile never leaves his kind face, but I have a suspicion my wish has fallen on deaf ears.

Once Paolo returns to the kitchen, I relax in my seat and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with fresh air fragranced by the abundant flowers planted around the yard. There’s a pergola overhead, keeping the direct light off my face, but the warm sun feels good, and for a moment, I allow myself to pretend I’m living a fairy tale.

However, my peace doesn’t last long as I feel a familiar prickling on the back of my neck just as soon as I finish my meal. Sitting upright in my chair, I look around until I see Marco approaching me with a determined expression etched on his face. He looks so different from this morning. I’m not sure what’s changed in the span of a few hours.

“I thought you’d be gone all day.”

“Change of plans. And now I’m home.”

This back and forth is irritating, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull I feel toward him.

Marco tugs me to my feet, then draws me in and presses his muscular body against mine. All coherent thoughts disappear and are replaced by a dire need for him when I feel his hard length against my lower stomach. Resisting him is futile, because he’ll always take whatever he wants. When he looks at me like this, I want to feel the pleasure that only he can give me, pleasure I’ve never experienced with anyone else.

My heart flutters as he leans in and whispers, “I didn’t get a goodbye kiss.”

On the surface, the gesture appears romantic, but I’m not foolish enough to believe it’s true. He was cold and dismissive earlier. Not to mention he left me squirming and frustrated when he sent me to bed last night. So, why would he think I’d send him off with a kiss?

Before I can question him, he clears the table, knocking dishes and glasses to the ground without a care. Then his hands are on me, flicking open the button of my jeans and dragging them down my legs, along with my skimpy lace panties. He lifts me off the ground, setting my bare ass onto the cool surface before tugging off my boots and undressing me from the waist down.

I’m exposed and vulnerable, but my pussy is wet while my mind is confused. “What are you doing? Aren’t you going to kiss me?” I ask shyly.

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