Page 2 of His Wicked Obsession

Unless…

No.

I can’t.

I swore I wouldn’t.

Donato Cardarelli is a dominant force that I know would come at the drop of a hat if I were to ask. He hasn’t hidden his infatuation with me. When he was here, he nearly consumed me. If he’d stayed longer, I think I would have left with him. Accepted everything he was offering me.

But I’m already committed to Lude, even if I can never love him.

Lude has made me promises. Family, stability, a life I never believed I could have when he first bought me, but I wish we could have love.

Donato wants to give me that and everything else my heart desires.

“Bella.” My head pops up when I hear my name.

It sounds like…but it couldn’t be.

“Bella.” Could it be?

“Papa?” I whisper as I leave my room, my robe barely secure around my body. “Papa,” I repeat as I slowly tread down the long hallway towards the curved staircase.

“Yes, Bella.” Tears leak from the corners of my eyes.

“Papa, I’m here,” I sob, rushing down the stairs, tripping down the last three, and landing hard on my knees. “Don’t leave me,” I cry out.

Two of the maids come out of the den to stare. I can see the assessing eyes as they judge me. They think I’ve gone insane.

“Please don’t leave me, Papa.” Slamming my fists on the cool marble floor, I scream until my voice breaks and no sound flows.

Papa is dead.

Mama is dead.

Bria has moved on.

I’m left all alone. Again.

One Week Later.

Darkness surrounds me. My head is buried in my raised knees, my arms bracing them tight to my chest as I rock back and forth in the corner. I hear it all the time now, even when others are in the room with me. Hello, darling, follows me everywhere I go.

Into town.

To dinner. The shower.

And in my sleep.

I can never escape. I’ve tried putting in headphones, but I still hear it, leading me to believe I am crazy. Certifiable, institutionally-available, batshit crazy.

“Ssshhh. Do you hear that, Bella?” It’s my sister's voice when we were eight and hunting for chameleons in Mama’s garden, and instead, spotted a blue and purple hummingbird feeding from the honeysuckles.

The memory is so clear, like a looking glass into the past. The warm sun on our skin, the tickling of dirt between our toes, the brush of leaves on our hands. I’m transported back in time…to happier times.

Dinner as a family. Sundays in the park with a picnic. Bedtime stories about magical creatures and princes saving princesses, laughter filling a house bursting at the seams with love.

Nothing like I’ve known since they died. We went from sunshine and roses to black holes of despair and emotional pits of hell.

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