Page 11 of Imprisoned Obsession

Elio treats me alarmingly well. It’s as if he’s going out of his way to spoil me, to accommodate me in a house that costs more than what I could make in my whole life.

He didn’t bring me to a torture chamber. He gave me a massive room with designer clothes and a gorgeous view of the garden.

I can’t wrap my head around it. I don’t know why he’s doing this. He’s playing a game, and he’s twisting my mind in a way that is too subtle for me to understand.

Not a second goes by that I feel safe enough to walk out the front door. Elio said I could, and he held the door for me.

I could’ve left, but I wasn’t really allowed to.

He said I could, and his actions proved it. But he also smiled so aggressively that I felt I wasn’t allowed to leave his sight, that I was going to get hurt if I even thought about it.

I would believe he is the kindest gentleman if I hadn’t witnessed him killing Janice. I can’t get the image of her struggling for breath out of my head.

It wakes me up at night, and I didn’t sleep a wink on the first night.

Elio is at my side every minute. We eat together, he talks to me as if we’re old friends, and he gives me things I never asked for.

New blackout curtains. He noticed I wasn’t sleeping well and took the initiative to fix it.

I didn’t get a say in it, and I don’t think I have a voice about anything he does. I’m afraid to test how much I can get away with. I don’t want to say something that would offend him and go missing forever.

I am missing, though.

Elio’s not letting me go. He has made it clear he wants me through both his verbal declarations and his actions.

He has kissed me too many times to count. Morning kisses, good night kisses, and whenever he wants to press his lips against mine.

I do try to stop him, but sometimes he takes me by surprise. I know it’s wrong, and I need to stand up to him. However, the moment I stare into those fiery amber eyes, I remember what he did to Janice.

I don’t want to die. I’m afraid of death. He would be the last person I ever see as his amber eyes spark sadistically while my breathing stops.

I slap my cheeks and embrace the stinging as a distraction. The pain chases away heated thoughts of his lips, forcing me to accept his delicious taste.

Shaking my head vigorously, the blush refuses to leave my burning cheeks. It’s wrong, and it’s shameful to think of my captor like this.

He’s not the type of man I would bring home to meet my parents. Other women wouldn’t think twice about introducing a rich and well-mannered boyfriend to their parents, but I know better than that.

“Elio” is a façade more than it is a name.

There are times I wonder if what happened was real; if he really killed Janice and covered it up by putting the tube back down her throat.

It was gruesome. It haunts me every time I look at him, wondering why he let me keep breathing.

“What are you doing, darling?”

His hoarse drawl cuts into my thoughts. Big hands cup my throbbing cheeks, rubbing the skin lightly as his scowl turns into a disapproving frown.

Elio presses his thick fingers into my skin and finds leverage near my bones.

He leans in and breathes my name with a velvety voice. I wait for his lips to meet mine, like all the other times. But he goes for my throbbing temple instead, lips innocent and soft.

He’s anything but soft.

Every inch of his body is molded like a sculpture. He’s built with defined muscles, carved with deep grooves, and painted with obsidian ink.

Elio is not normal. He’s not sane.

He’s a monstrosity shrouded with a deceptive halo.

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