Chains of Obsession

1. The Blood Pact

Chapter one

The Blood Pact

Matteo

T he night is thick with tension, the kind that wraps around your chest and refuses to let go. My office is dimly lit, the smoke from my cigar swirling in the air, mixing with the scent of leather and whiskey. It’s a quiet place where decisions are made in shadows, where power shifts with a single word. But tonight, Luca Ricci is about to make a deal that will bind us in a way he doesn’t quite understand yet. I hear the door open behind me, but I don’t turn. I know it’s him. Luca.

The man who thought he could play in the big leagues, who never realized just how close to the edge his family really is.

He steps inside, his boots clicking on the floor. He’s nervous, I can smell it on him—something sharp in his cologne mixed with the scent of fear. There’s a kind of arrogance in the way he holds himself. A desperate kind of pride.

“Matteo. You wanted to see me.” he says, his voice tight.

I don’t look up. “Sit down,” I command, taking a long drag from my cigar, savoring the burn. I can almost hear his hesitation, the struggle between doing what he’s told and trying to salvage his pride. Finally, the chair across from me creaks as he sits, and I exhale slowly, the smoke curling up like a snake in the air.

“So, what’s this about, Luca?” I ask, flicking the ash from my cigar into the tray.

He hesitates again, his eyes darting to the windows, the door, anywhere but me. It’s as if he’s trying to avoid the weight of what’s coming. “My father… His debts. They’re... too much. The enemies he made, the people who are coming for us—coming for me—there’s nothing left to do.”

I nod slowly, not offering him sympathy. I don’t have time for weakness. “What does that have to do with me?”

Luca shifts in his chair, his hands clenched into fists as he pulls a picture out from his jacket and hands it to me. “I need your help. The Ricci name is on the line, Matteo. If you don’t step in, I’ll lose everything. But it’s not just me. It’s... my sister, Amelia. She’s in danger and if they come for her, I won’t be able to protect her.”

I lean back in my chair, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach. Amelia.. I look at the picture, this is the girl I’ve been obsessing over for months. Beautiful, defiant, untouchable. She’s been a constant in my thoughts, a woman I’ve wanted for reasons I haven’t quite admitted to myself.

“Amelia? What do you expect me to do about her?” I repeat, my voice colder now.

He lowers his gaze, his expression darkening. “I’ll give her to you. You can protect her. She’ll be your wife, Matteo. I’ll offer her to you to seal this deal.”

For a moment, I don’t say anything. The idea of taking her—of possessing her—floods my mind. The thought makes my blood burn hotter, a fever I can’t control. But I have to keep my head. I have to remember why I’m here. This isn’t just about what I want. It’s about power, control. It always is.

“You’ll give her to me?” I ask, my voice soft, testing the air.

Luca looks away, his shame palpable. “Yes. She’ll be the wife you need to solidify your position. In exchange, you protect her. You protect the Ricci name.”

I chuckle darkly. “So, you’re selling your sister, Luca? Offering her like a piece of property? Is that really the deal you want to make with me?”

His eyes flicker with discomfort, but he nods, his pride shattered. “I’m doing what I must to survive. What else can I do?”

I stand up, slowly circling the room. His eyes follow me, but he doesn’t speak. There’s a desperation to him, something that smells like fear and regret. But I don’t feel sorry for him. I’ve built my empire from blood and betrayal. This is nothing new.

I stop in front of him, my presence looming over him like a shadow. “Understand this, Luca. I don’t need a woman handed to me on a silver platter.” I let the weight of my words sink in, savoring the moment of silence before I continue.

“And if I take her, you will never have her back. She will belong to me. Understand?”

Luca nods, his jaw tight. “I understand.”

“Good. Then the deal is made.” I say, turning away from him.

The tension in the room thickens. He’s made his choice. Now, I made mine. It’s time to bring Amelia into my world—whether she likes it or not. As he leaves, the room smells of sweat, fear, and the sharp tang of blood lingering in the air. It’s late, the kind of late when the city feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for its secrets to sink into the shadows.

I’m sitting at the head of the long oak table, my position one of power, but my mind is consumed by her. Amelia Ricci. A few months ago, her name wouldn’t have meant anything to me. Just another daughter of another family—collateral damage in a war she wasn’t fighting. But Senior Ricci’s assassination changed everything. His death wasn’t my doing, though plenty of people assumed otherwise. Let them. Fear has its uses. What they don’t know is that his death created a vacuum I didn’t intend. His son, Luca, stumbled into it like a drunken fool, tripping over his own incompetence. It wasn’t long before he came crawling to me, his desperation like the stench that clung to him. He was out of his depth, bleeding Ricci territory to rival families, his alliances crumbling under the weight of his weak spine.

When he offered Amelia to me as part of a deal to save himself, I should’ve killed him on the spot. But then I think of her—the woman I’d seen once at the club, her sharp eyes cutting through the crowd like a blade. The way she carried herself, even after bumping into me, I have been thinking about her for months. I took the deal. Not because of Luca, but because of her. I’ve cleaned up the messes Luca created. Rival enforcers left dead in alleyways, a shipment of weapons intercepted before it could reach our shores, quiet meetings with powerful men, their loyalty bought with money, favors, and fear. The darkness of my world is nothing new to me, but now it feels sharper, more focused. Every decision I make is part of a larger plan. Not just to consolidate power, but to bring her into it. I don’t want her to be a pawn.

I want her standing at my side, her fire as much a weapon as my own ruthlessness. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll teach her what it means to be in this world. What it means to belong to me. The rain outside grows heavier, and I rise from my chair, dismissing the room. My men clear out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I’ll claim her with the inevitability of a rising tide, her resistance drowned by the sheer force of what we could be together. Amelia Ricci doesn’t know what’s coming. She doesn’t know that the devil is about to be her husband.

“Sir?” Enzo’s voice cuts through the night, steady and low. He waits just inside the doorway, his expression unreadable, though I know he’s waiting for orders.

“Is everything ready?” I ask, not turning to face him.

“Yes.” His response is clipped, professional.

Good. Everything has been planned down to the smallest detail. No room for mistakes. The thought of her—thinking she’s safe, thinking the world has already marked her as mine—sends a thrill through me. It’s not just obsession anymore. It’s hunger. A need so sharp it feels like it could cut through bone.

“What about Luca?” he asks

I smirk, a flash of cruelty in my demeanor. “He’s none the wiser. Thinks this is all part of the arrangement.”

The fool. He handed over his sister like a bargaining chip. I light a cigarette and inhale deeply. The smoke mingles with the rain, the acrid smell grounding me.

“Good. Make sure he’s kept in the dark until it’s too late to interfere.”

Enzo nods. “The girl? What if she resists?”

“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 at the 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.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m going along with this. I don’t belong to anyone.”

I take a slow step toward her, then another, until I’m towering over her defiant frame. “You will,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

Her eyes flicker with fear, but she doesn’t back down. “You think I’m safer with you?”

“Yes,” I say simply.

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, we’re locked in a silent standoff, the air between us crackling with tension. I turn on my heels and walk away, the sound of her ragged breathing following me. My chest tightens, the weight of my obsession settling deeper. I may have won this round, but the war with Amelia is far from over. God help me, I’m looking forward to it. Her scent lingers in the air behind me—jasmine and vanilla.

As I leave her standing in that room, I know I should feel satisfied. I’ve claimed victory in this round of our game, but the hollow satisfaction only feeds the gnawing hunger inside me. She doesn’t realize that every time she defies me, every time she looks at me with that blazing fury in her eyes, she’s tightening the threads of her own captivity.

In the quiet sanctum of my office, I light a cigarette, the flick of the flame breaking the silence. The smoke curls around me, thick and pungent, like the weight of the decisions I’ve made.

A stack of papers sits on my desk, the foundation of her new life. A life tied irrevocably to me. The marriage contract is almost poetic in its simplicity. She’ll have the Moretti name, the protection of my empire. In return, she’ll be my queen, my leverage, and my undoing all at once. I glance at the clock. The night is still young, and there’s work to be done.

I press a button on my desk phone, summoning Rocco and Enzo. Men that I trust whole heartedly. Within minutes, they appear, both men dressed in dark suits, their faces carved from stone.

“Sit,” I order, gesturing to the chairs across from me.

Rocco leans back, his bulk body making the chair groan in protest, while Enzo sits on the edge, always poised for action.

“The Ricci girl will sign the contract. But I want every detail of this union to send a message. The wedding will be public, grand, and impossible for anyone in our world to ignore.”

Rocco smirks, his teeth flashing beneath his thick beard. “You want to make a statement.”

“I want to make the statement. A Ricci and a Moretti united under my terms. No one questions my power after this.”

Enzo nods, his sharp eyes glinting with understanding. “What about Luca?”

“He begged for my help, and now he owes me everything. But make no mistake, this isn’t about him. It’s about her.”

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of my words settling over us. I know what they’re thinking, even if they don’t say it. Amelia Ricci is a liability, a spark in a powder keg I’ve spent years carefully constructing. But they don’t see what I see.

“She’s more than leverage. She’s fire. And fire can be controlled if you know how to wield it.”

Rocco chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re playing a dangerous game, boss.”

“Danger is where I thrive, and she’ll learn that resistance is futile. She’s mine now. End of story.” I snap, my tone sharper than intended.

Enzo clears his throat, his gaze flicking to the contract. “And the terms? She won’t come willingly.”

“She doesn’t have to. She’ll sign, or she’ll watch what happens when someone crosses me. Either way, she’ll stand by my side at the altar. I want extra security on her at all times. No slip-ups, no gaps. She breathes because I allow it, and I won’t let anyone interfere with what’s mine.”

Rocco and Enzo nod, their loyalty unwavering. They know better than to question me, especially when it comes to Amelia. As they leave, the room grows quiet once more. I stand, moving to the window that overlooks the city. The lights stretch out before me, a sprawling kingdom built on blood and sacrifice.

She doesn’t see it yet, but Amelia belongs here. She belongs to me. Together, we’ll solidify this empire, carve out a legacy that no one can touch. But first, I’ll have to break her. The thought sends a dark thrill through me, the kind that I’ve always tried to suppress but can’t seem to resist where she’s concerned. She’ll fight me, resist me at every turn, and I’ll savor every second of it.

Because when she finally surrenders, it won’t be out of fear. It will be out of something far more dangerous. In that surrender, she’ll become exactly what I need: my queen, my obsession, my undoing. With a slow exhale, I crush the cigarette in the ashtray, the embers dying out with a hiss. The game is in motion now, the pieces falling into place. No matter how much fire Amelia Ricci brings to the board, I’ll make sure I’m the one left standing when it’s all over.

It’s been twenty-four hours since I kidnapped Amelia. She stands at the far end of the room, her back straight, her eyes blazing with defiance. Even from here, I can feel the heat radiating off her—the fury, the hatred. She isn’t just a woman scorned, she’s a woman ready to go to war, and for a brief moment, I can’t help but admire her. She doesn’t belong in my world, not really. She’s fire, and I’m the kind of man who thrives in the cold. But here she is, staring me down as if her anger alone will undo everything I’ve set in motion.

“Sign the contract,” I say, my voice calm, measured. It’s the voice of a man who knows he’s already won.

She laughs—a sharp, bitter sound that cuts through the heavy silence. “You must think I’m a fool. You think I’d willingly tie myself to the man whose family destroyed mine?”

The accusation lands, as it always does. I don’t flinch. I don’t defend myself. What would be the point? The Moretti name carries blood, power, and history. None of it clean.

“Think what you want. But this isn’t about what you want, Amelia. It’s about what you need.” I say, leaning back in my chair. I rest my hands on the arms, my fingers drumming lightly against the leather.

She scoffs, her beautiful eyes narrowing. There’s fire in those eyes, golden flecks that dance like sparks threatening to ignite. She doesn’t realize how easily I could extinguish them if I wanted to. Or maybe she does. Maybe that’s what excites me about her.

“You think this is survival?. Binding me to you like some bargaining chip?” she spits, her voice trembling with rage.

I rise slowly, deliberately, savoring the way her shoulders stiffen as I move closer. She doesn’t back away. She just watches as I reach her, I stop inches away, close enough to see the rise and fall of her chest as she fights to keep control. I lower my voice, leaning in just enough for my words to brush against her ear.

“This is survival. Your family made choices, cara mia . Now, so will you.”

She doesn’t flinch, but her breath hitches. A small, fleeting sound that only I catch. I should leave it at that, let her stew in her fury, but something about her pulls me closer. A need I can’t quite name, but one I refuse to ignore.

“You’ll fight me. But make no mistake, this is your new reality. The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be.” I say, stepping back and meeting her gaze head-on.

Her eyes flash, and for a moment, I wonder if she’ll slap me. Part of me almost hopes she does. At least it would be honest. Instead, she tilts her chin up, defiance dripping from every inch of her. “I’ll never accept this. Or you.”

I let a slow smile spread across my face, knowing it’ll infuriate her further. “You will. One way or another.”

She doesn’t respond. She just glares at me, her silence speaking volumes. As I walk away, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve just lit a match in a room soaked with gasoline. Let the fire come.

*Two days later*

The priest’s voice drones on, reciting vows that mean nothing to me. I glance at Amelia standing beside me, her spine ramrod straight, her hands clenched so tightly around her bouquet that her knuckles are white. Her defiance radiates off her in waves, her fury simmering just beneath the surface. She hates me. She hasn’t said the words outright—yet—but her glare says enough. I expected this marriage to be a challenge. I didn’t expect her to look so damn beautiful while plotting my demise.

“Do you, Matteo Moretti, take Amelia Ricci—”

“I do,” I interrupt, my voice firm.

Amelia stiffens beside me, and I catch the subtle flare of her nostrils, the only sign of the fire burning inside her. Her turn comes, and for a moment, I wonder if she’ll refuse. Part of me wants her to, just to see how far she’s willing to push. But she doesn’t. After a long, intense pause, she says, “I do,” her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

The priest declares us husband and wife, and the weight of what I’ve just done settles over me. No regret, I don’t regret anything—but there’s a certain finality to this moment. I’ve taken her name, her freedom, her life, and bound it all to mine.

As we leave the chapel, the small crowd of witnesses clap politely. They’re all here for appearances, none of them important enough to question the reason behind this marriage. I guide Amelia toward the car waiting outside, my hand resting lightly on the curve of her back. She stiffens at the contact.

The estate is quiet when we arrive, the weight of the day pressing down on us like a suffocating fog. I lead her through the halls to the room we will now share. It’s tradition, of course. Appearances must be kept. She steps inside, her sharp gaze darting around the room.

I follow, closing the door behind me with a deliberate click. She stiffens at the sound. Good. She should be afraid. The room is dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace casting shadows along the walls. The bed, large and imposing, dominates the space. Deep red sheets, silk and smooth, a contrast to the cold reality of what this night signifies. There’s no escape here. No mercy. She turns to face me, chin raised, fire in her eyes despite the uncertainty laced beneath it. “I’ll never be yours,” she spits, voice sharp and defiant.

I smile. A slow, calculated thing. “You already are.”

I step forward, and she instinctively takes a step back, her back pressing against the carved wooden post of the bed. There’s nowhere left to run. The realization dawns on her, dark and suffocating. She swallows but doesn’t break. Not yet. I reach into my pocket, pulling out a small, silver key attached to a delicate chain.

It gleams in the low light as I dangle it between us. Her gaze flickers to it. “What is that?”

I close the space between us, my hand brushing the side of her neck as I lift her hair away. The shiver she tries to suppress doesn’t go unnoticed. I clasp the chain around her throat, the key resting just above her collarbone.

My fingers trailing over the metal. “It’s the proof that your mine.”

Her breath stutters, but she doesn’t look away. “You’re a monster.”

I chuckle, low and dark. “You, amore mia , are the one who walked willingly into the cage.”

I reach into the bedside drawer and pull out what’s waiting there. Cold iron cuffs. The glint of steel. The weight of control. She sees them, her entire body going still.

“You wouldn’t,” she whispers, voice trembling now.

I grip her wrist, pulling her forward, pressing the first cuff around her delicate bones. The click echoes through the room. “I will.”

The second follows just as easily. I watch her, fascinated by the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips part in stunned disbelief. She tugs at the chains linking her wrists, testing, resisting. But they don’t break. Neither will she.

I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You thought this marriage was for love but your wrong. It’s a business arrangement.”

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 be worn .” 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.”

A slow, predatory smile spreads across my lips. “You already have.”

Her breath is uneven now, her pulse fluttering beneath the steel. She wants to hate me but her body betrays her. The way her chest rises and falls too quickly, the way her fingers twitch at her side. I smirk keeping my eyes locked on hers. I turn away before I do something reckless, something I want to do.

But as I step toward the bathroom, I glance back one last time. She’s still sitting there, still wrapped in chains, and yet—she looks at me like she’s ready to fight. Good. I always win. The silence between us thickens, charged with defiance. Amelia doesn’t move as I step closer, the fire in her eyes burning even as the metal collar gleams at her throat. The cuffs around her wrists keep her hands still, but I see the tension in her fingers—the way she’s resisting the urge to strike, to fight. She wants control. I’ll never let her have it.

Without a word, I kneel before her, reaching for the delicate buttons lining the back of her strapless wedding dress. She stiffens the moment my fingers brush against the lace.

“Don’t,” she whispers, but there’s no strength behind it.

I ignore her as I work each button loose, slow and disciplined, savoring the way her breathing turns uneven. When the last button is undone, I push the dress from her shoulders, letting the fabric slide down her body in a whisper of silk. It pools at her feet, leaving her bare except for the cuffs at her wrists and the collar around her throat. She shivers, but whether it’s from the cool air or the weight of my touch, I don’t know.

I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You belong to me now and I take care of what’s mine.”

She doesn’t respond. She just watches me, her throat working as she swallows down whatever words she wants to spit at me.

I pull back the sheets and nod toward the bed. “Lie down.”

She hesitates but her body shows no resistance. “Why?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Because I said so.”

She glares at me while she moves, settling stiffly onto the mattress. I slip in beside her, pulling the covers over both of us. Her body is warm and tense. She stays as close to the edge of the bed as possible, like she can somehow keep her distance despite the chains binding her to me. I brush a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering against her cheek.

“Sleep. Tomorrow, we start something new.”

She exhales sharply, her jaw tightening. “How am I supposed to sleep like this?”

I tug her closer, ignoring her weak attempts at resistance. “You’ll learn.”

Her breath hitches as I wrap a arm around her waist, keeping her pressed against me. She’s rigid at first, every muscle locked in place, but exhaustion wins over time. Eventually, her breathing evens out, her body melting into mine.

I close my eyes, my grip firm, possessive. She doesn’t realize it yet, but this is where she belongs. Where she’s always belonged. No matter how much she fights, I’ll never let her go. She is….. My fiery rose flower, she will cut right through me with her thorns. I will gladly contribute to fuck the hatred out of her but it’s not time yet. I need to catch her off guard and bring these walls down a smidge.