Page 2 of Twisted Obsession

My earlier fear left me, andI tried to smile at the thought, but for some reason couldn’t. Again, I tried to move against my binds.

I don’t understand.

I felt myself begin to shake my head at the realisation.

He wouldn’t have.

In that second, I understood that my ears had tricked me into thinking I was hearing the wind blowing up a storm, that I wouldn’t find the birds soaring up into the grey skies; all I’d be able to see would be blue, a crystal-clear blue. The same place I’d found my comfort over the previous few days.

Concentrating wholly on the one thing I had to do, my body finally complied with what I was asking of it, and my eyelids began to flicker as I forced them to part, and my sleep filled vision cleared.

The outline of the man I’d known for years, the childhood friend I bumped into every now and again at family functions. The same one who had befriended, romanced, and done so very much more with me over the previous few days, sluggishly revealed itself to me. His crisp white shirt and pale grey suit was the same as he’d worn to meet me in Naples.

We’d wanted to escape. My university in Bologna had seemed like the perfect place to run to. In my head, my childish reasoning had convinced me we could make it work, just for a few days. Then my romantic notions had told me that when we returned home, we would be looked at differently.

I don’t remember getting to Bologna.

What do I remember?

I’d fallen into Dante’s open arms at the café in Naples. I could recall the touch of his hand on my bare arm, the warmth of his embrace and the terms of endearment he’d whispered in my ear. It had all seemed so romantic, with the adrenalin stillflowing through my body after making my escape from my own bodyguards.

But why hadn’t we reached Bologna?

London?

Dante had lied to me. Why?

Now, understanding the situation I was in, I was convinced it was as far away from romantic as I’d ever find.

What sort of fool are you?

I could hear Salvatore warning me not to leave our family home and I felt even more stupid.

‘Dante?’ My mouth allowed his name to be spoken with complete precision as I questioned him. I watched as a spark of amusement lit up his eyes and a smirk consumed his full lips.

Memories flicked quickly through my mind.

The terrace, in the rain.

The party.

Nonno’s speech.

My grandfather is dying.

My family.

The confessional.

The way Dante hadn’t let me out of his sight, even for a minute.

The last few days. The numerous phone calls to each other. The secret meetings. I’d told him my inner most thoughts. I’d told him of my pain, my exasperation and he’d encouraged my dependency on him.

Dante Giordano, the man who now encapsulated my dreams. Dante who had always been my obsession.

He’d dared to kiss me at my brother’s party. He’d pulled me into his arms and kissed me again in Naples and called me ‘amore mio’ his love.

My eyes flew open wider at the memory, and I went to raise a hand to touch my lips, where I could still feel him, and feltmy restrictive binds all over again. As the smirk stretched wider across his face as he read all the unspoken thoughts in my mind, I pulled my eyes away and allowed them to fall to the white cable ties, which were now biting into the skin on my wrists as I fidgeted against the constraints.

---