Page 70 of Veil of Obsession
Matteo shrugs. “Then she’ll learn.”
I snort. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” His voice is even, calm. “She’ll learn that resisting gets her nothing. That fighting is pointless. She can either accept the situation and make her life easier, or she can make it miserable.”
I shake my head, stepping back slightly and rolling my wrist. It’s the same tone he used when he was thirteen and he was forced into killing a man. Like he’s already accepted it. Like he doesn’t see another way.
I arch a brow, testing him. “What if she runs?”
Matteo’s mouth twitches—just barely. But the darkness that flickers in his eyes? That’s fucking real.
“She won’t.”
It’s not a guess. It’s a promise.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my wrist, watching him carefully, waiting for something—anything—to suggest that he’s more than just a fucking machine going through the motions.
But Matteo’s already resetting. Already moving past the conversation, waiting for my next punch. Like the discussion is over. Like it never mattered in the first place.
26
Lucio
Ishouldn’t be here.
I should’ve let her run. Should’ve left her to stew in her own fucked-up obsession, let her pretend she still has some semblance of control.
But I don’t do should. I do what I want, and right now, what I want is her.
And she should’ve locked her fucking window.
The room is dark when I slip inside her room like I belong here.
Because I do. She made me belong here the second she decided to carve out a space for me in her mind, in her life. Watching. Following.
She’s obsessed. And I don’t think she even understand just how much I’ve let her get away with. The scent of cupcakes and something sharper wraps around me, seeping into my lungs. I breathe it in, exhaling slowly as I scan the space.
Princess is asleep. Curled beneath her sheets, her breathing deep, even.
For someone so careful, so calculated, she should’ve known that I wouldn’t take no for an answer, not after everything. She should’ve known that I’d find my way in. That’d I’d come for her.
I slide her window shut without a sound, moving toward her bed—silent, measured, watching the way her body shifts under the covers. The thin strap of her lilac nightgown has slipped from her shoulder, exposing the soft curve of skin beneath.
I don’t touch her right away. I just stand there watching. Waiting. Her breathing is even, but her body is too still. She’s not really asleep.
I reach out, trailing my fingers down the length of her leg beneath the sheets, and her breath hitches.
She wakes up wrong. Not startled. Not afraid. She knows it’s me.
She turns, eyes meeting mine in the dark, her lips parting on a slow inhale. “Lucio.”
I smirk. Not surprised. Of course she isn’t.
“Wake up, Princess.” I lean down, gripping her wrist and forcing her up.
I spot the bathroom door slightly ajar in the corner of her bedroom, and I drag her toward it. She doesn’t resist. She doesn’t even hesitate. The moment the door clicks shut, I press up against her from behind, my chest flush against her smaller frame.
She shivers, but not from fear. From something else.
