4. The Darker Side of Desire
Chapter four
The Darker Side of Desire
Amelia
T he aftermath of last night 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. “The boss ?”
“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.
His smirk returns, lazy and arrogant. “You keep saying that, Amelia, but your body tells a different story.”
“Stop it. You don’t get to manipulate me like this.” My voice is sharper now, my anger rekindled.
“I’m not manipulating you. I’m just being honest. Maybe you should try it.”
I glare at him, hating how easily he gets under my skin, how effortlessly he dismantles my defenses. “Honest?” I scoff. “Fine. Let’s be honest, Matteo. What really happened to my father?”
His expression changes instantly, the playful arrogance replaced with a cold, hard edge. He doesn’t look away, but something flickers in his eyes, something he’s trying to hide.
“I told you. I didn’t kill him.”
“But you know who did,” I press, taking a step forward. “Don’t you?”
He doesn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening as if he’s weighing how much to tell me. Finally, he exhales sharply, running a hand through his dark hair.
“Your father made enemies, Amelia. Powerful ones. I couldn’t stop what happened to him.”
“You expect me to believe that? You, the man who controls everything, couldn’t stop it?”
His hand slams against the desk, making me jump. “Enough,” he growls.
“You think you know this world? You don’t. It’s not black and white, Amelia. It’s survival, and sometimes that means sacrifices are made.”
I take a shaky breath, my heart pounding. “Was he a sacrifice?”
The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. He doesn’t answer, and that tells me everything I need to know.
“Damn you,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
His eyes soften, but only for a moment. “You think I don’t feel it too?” he says quietly. “The weight of it? The guilt? I didn’t choose this life, Amelia, but I live it because it’s the only way to protect the people I care about.”
“Care about?” I laugh bitterly. “You don’t care about me. You just want to control me, to own me.”
His hand reaches out, but I pull away before he can touch me. “You’re wrong. But you’re too angry to see it. You can run, Amelia. But you can’t escape this. You can’t escape me.”
The office is empty now, but his scent lingers—dark and intoxicating, like the man himself. Matteo’s words echo in my mind, conflicting with the emotions swirling inside me. Hate and desire, anger and something I don’t want to name.
I stare at the ceiling as I sit on the couch, the shadows dancing across the ornate molding. The room is filled with the faint scent of leather and smoke, the unmistakable signature of the man who’s made my life both a battleground and an inferno. The room is imposing, like Matteo himself, with its dark wood furniture and shelves lined with books I doubt he’s read.
I shouldn’t be here, not like this. But I need space to breathe, to feel like I have a sliver of control in a world Matteo dominates, his absence both a relief and a frustration. My eyes wander to his desk, where papers are meticulously arranged. Curiosity tugs at me like a forbidden temptation. My pulse quickens as I move closer, my fingers brushing the smooth surface. I’m not searching for answers—at least, not about my father.
What I want is something intangible, a sense of who Matteo is when he’s not suffocating me with his overbearing presence. I reach for the nearest drawer, only to find it locked. Of course. Matteo wouldn’t leave anything important unguarded. But the letter opener on the desk offers an easy solution. It takes only a moment to pop the lock, the small victory filling me with a rebellious satisfaction.
Inside, I find ledgers, contracts, and other documents—evidence of the empire Matteo commands with ruthless precision. The weight of his power is palpable in every carefully filed paper, every signed deal. I close the drawer, feeling more stifled than before. The sound of the door opening makes me freeze. I turn to see Matteo standing in the doorway, his dark eyes locked on me. He doesn’t speak right away, and that silence is more unnerving than any words he could have said.
“Amelia,” he says finally, his voice calm but threaded with steel. “What are you doing?”
“I thought we should talk,” I reply, forcing an air of nonchalance as I step away from his desk.
His gaze flicks to the open drawer, then back to me. The corner of his mouth curves into something that’s not quite a smile. “Is that so?”
I fold my arms, refusing to let him intimidate me. “I don’t need your permission to be in here.”
His laugh is low and dangerous. “You don’t, but you do need my trust. And rifling through my things isn’t exactly earning it.”
“I wasn’t rifling,” I lie, my cheeks flushing.
He steps closer, the space between us shrinking until I can feel the heat radiating from him. “Amelia, you’re terrible at lying. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I wasn’t looking for anything,” I say, my voice defiant even as my heart pounds.
“Then why are you trembling?” he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to where my hands clutch the edge of the desk.
I release my grip immediately, cursing myself for giving him any leverage. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating in its intensity, but I refuse to back down.
“You don’t get to control me,” I say, my voice shaking but firm.
His gaze darkens, the playful glint vanishing as he leans in, his face inches from mine. “Control you? Amelia, you’re in my world now. Everything about you-your safety, your choices, your life—it’s mine to protect. Whether you like it or not.”
“Protect? Is that what you call this? Trapping me here, watching my every move? That’s not protection, Matteo. That’s obsession.” I snap, pushing back against his words.
His lips curl into a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe it is. But obsession is what keeps you alive. You want freedom? Walk out that door. See how far you get before someone tries to use you against me.”
The weight of his words crash over me, and I hate that he’s right. But I hate even more the way his proximity makes my resolve crumble.
“Why are you like this?” I whisper, the question slipping out before I can stop it.
“Because I have to be. This world doesn’t allow weakness, Amelia. I won’t let it destroy you.”
For a moment, I see something in his eyes, vulnerability, regret, maybe even longing. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the hard-edged man I’ve come to know.
“Get out of my office,” he says, his voice quiet but commanding.
I glare at him, my defiance rekindled. “You don’t give me orders.”
“Don’t I?” he murmurs, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk.
Before I can respond, he steps even closer, his hand brushing against mine as he reaches past me to close the drawer. The contact sends a jolt through me, the electric pull between us impossible to ignore.
“You can hate me all you want, Tesoro. But you’ll never escape me.”
I want to argue, to scream, but the intensity of his gaze leaves me speechless. As I storm out of the office, I can’t help but wonder if he’s right.