Page 10 of Obsession

And I don’t deny myself the things I want. Not anymore.

I don’t sleep well, visions of her flooding my brain, and when my alarm rings only a few hours later, I don’t feel anything closeto rested. I get up anyway. I need to return Madi to her mother before she has a conniption.

Caterina Costello Ricci called me in a panic last night. Madi was MIA, and she had just been delivered the news of her son going missing. If she hadn’t, I’m not sure I would have gone out searching for my fiancée. I trusted that her mother had her tucked in for a night of beauty rest, since we have a day of wedding activities ahead of us. If she hadn’t called me, though, who knows what would have happened to Madi.

Madi’s already up with her back to me when I enter the spare room. For a moment, before she turns and sees me, she looks peaceful. I can imagine waking up to her every morning. Maybe even one of these days, she’ll roll over and greet me with a smile.

But today, it’s a frown that’s marking her perfect lips. She’s not happy to see me. Never is.

“Morning, princess.”

She scoffs at my greeting. “Are you taking me home, or do I need to call an Uber?” She waves her phone at me, like it’s a threat.

“I’ll drive you.”

She’s wearing the one-piece leotard, but when she stands up, she reaches for the sparkly shift dress she was wearing over it last night. Her tanned skin is creamy and on display, and I have the urge to touch her, to trail my fingers and mouth over every inch of her skin, make sure she knows who she belongs to.

“Ready?” I ask once she’s pulled the black boots onto her feet.

She doesn’t answer, just gives me an annoyed look and walks past me toward the stairs. On some level, I think living with her is going to be like living with a teenager. But on another, the brat in her excites me to no end.

She can be as bratty as she wants, because in one day, she’ll officially bemine.

SIX

Madi

I’m barely two steps into my mother’s kitchen when the overreactions begin. Caterina Ricci is nothing if not dramatic.

“Oh, thank God,” she crows, slamming down the newspaper she was reading. Mother Dearest doesn't look happy to see me. “Were you out all night?” she questions, her eyes wandering down my sparkly sheer dress to my bare legs and Doc Martens before gliding back up to my face. She’s disgusted; the emotion shows in the curl of her lips and her fiercely clenched jaw.

Luckily, Adrian walks in behind me and her face changes at the sight of him. To anyone else, the shift would be jarring. Her emotions change so quickly, pure disgust and anger to happiness in the blink of an eye. But my mother’s shapeshifting abilities aren’t new to me. When she’s trying to impress someone, she’s the most delightful woman you’ll ever meet. But once the doors close, her claws come out to play and her focus squarely settles on me. She won’t yell whilehe’shere, standing behind me with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black slacks. No, Caterina will be the perfect host for Adrian. She’ll keep heranger tucked away, neatly under the surface until the moment he leaves.

But I’ll take the reprieve while I can get it.

“No, Caterina,” Adrian answers my mother’s question for me, a habit I hope is infrequent in our pending marriage. “I picked her up last night.”

“Oh, thank God you found her!” she coos his praise. “God knows what would have happened if anyone else found her in that…dress.” The comment is coated in sugary sweetness. Doting over Adrian’s perfection while getting in a dig at me.

“Really, Ma?” If she knew something almost did happen last night, she’d lock me up in my room right after spitting out the wordsI told you so.

My wonderful, loving mother has been telling me for years that everything about my appearance sends men the wrong message. My hair makes me look unfit, my outfits unappealing. Every signal I’m sending is telling men:look at me, I’m easy and slutty and broken.She can’t comprehend that everything I do isn’t to please the other gender. And there’s something about your mom calling you a slut as a teenager that makes it hard to gain any self-esteem.

“You’re the one who sent him after me,” I add, kicking off my Doc Martens and leaving them in a heap by the door. I can see my mother’s eyes twitch as she looks down at the shoes, but she keeps her lips wound up in a tight smile.Can’t send Adrian the wrong message and make him think she’s anything less than the perfect mother.

Appearances are everything, after all.

I think a girl and her mother are supposed to have some kind of unique bond. At least, that’s what a million hours of television have taught me. There’s supposed to be this mother/daughter relationship that is unbreakable, but if that is a thing, it doesn’t exist in this house.

My happiness is the last thought on Caterina’s mind. The first is making sure I walk down the aisle and marry Adrian Russo.

“Yes, I sent him after you.” My mother spins around, pressing her hands on the counter as she hangs her head, the perfect portrayal of a grieving mother. “Your brother…” She can’t even finish the sentence before her words fail and a sob leaves her lips.

Laughter bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it down. I can’t tell if my mother’s grief is real. Do sociopaths care about anyone other than themselves? Surely, a woman who would marry her daughter off unwillingly is a sociopath. Right?

“Caterina.” Adrian moves to my mother in a few swift strides, pressing his large palm to her back and soothing her cries. “I’m so sorry about Marcus.”

Ugh. The sight makes me want to hurl. I run both of my hands through my hair. My mother is making me crazy, and Adrian isn’t helping anything. I’m not sure if I want to punch him or…never mind. I shake the almost dirty thought from my mind.

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