4 - I Own You

Amara

“Comfortable, Princess?” he drawls, his voice low and mocking.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, trying to pull my wrists free, but his grip only tightens.

“Checking up on my little captive,” he says, leaning down so his face is inches from mine. His minty breath fans against my cheek, and I’m acutely aware of the solid weight of him pressing me into the mattress.

“Get off me,” I manage to choke out, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.

“Hmm, no,” he says simply, leaning in closer. His breath is warm against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “You see, Amara, I’ve been thinking. You’ve got this… spark, this little fire in you that you like to wave around. I’m curious to see how long it takes for me to snuff it out.”

The threat hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest, but I force myself to stay still.

My stomach churns, the fear I’d been fighting all night finally crashing over me. But I won’t let him see it. I won’t let him know how badly he’s gotten to me.

“What do you want, Matteo?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.

His grin widens. “What I’ve always wanted, Amara. Control. Power. Revenge.” His dark eyes glint as they bore into mine. “And right now? I think I want to remind you exactly where you stand.”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay still under his weight. “You’ve made that perfectly clear already.”

“Have I?” His head tilts, mockery dripping from his tone. “Because I don’t think you’ve fully grasped the situation yet. You breathe because I allow it. You live because it suits me. Understand?”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

His grin fades, replaced by something colder, sharper. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” I whisper, hating the way my voice trembles.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I understand,” I force out, my throat tightening with the effort.

He studies me for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face like he’s looking for cracks in my resolve. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice a deadly whisper, still keeping my wrists pinned. “Because I’d hate to have to remind you again.”

“You don’t scare me,” I blurt, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

His eyes narrow, his grin returning. “Don’t I?”

“You should,” I spit, the words coming out sharper than I intend, but I can’t stop myself. “But you don’t.”

Matteo’s grin doesn’t falter, though his eyes darken, the emerald green burning like embers. “You’ve got a fucking mouth on you, Princess. Since your father didn’t bother teaching you manners, maybe I should.”

“Don’t bring my father into this,” I snap, my voice breaking slightly as I struggle against his hold.

He chuckles, the sound low and grating. “Your father put you here, Amara. He handed you over the second he chose his own skin over yours. You’re nothing more than a pawn in his pathetic game, and now you’re mine to play with.”

“I’m not anyone’s to play with,” I hiss, twisting my wrists under his grip.

Matteo leans closer, his breath warm against my neck. “Oh, you will be,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll fucking beg to be played with.”

My stomach twists at the double meaning in his words, but I keep my glare steady. He wants me scared, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

His green eyes burn into mine, vivid and unforgiving. The heat of him, the weight of his body pinning me down, is suffocating, but I refuse to let him see how much it affects me. I turn my head away, clenching my jaw.

“Don’t look away from me,” he snaps, his voice sharp as a whip. One of his hands leave my wrist, his fingers gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. “If you’ve got the balls to run that mouth of yours, you better fucking look me in the eye while you do it.”

I glare at him, my breathing uneven, but I don’t speak.

“That’s better,” he mutters, his thumb brushing against my jaw in a way that feels both threatening and far too intimate. “You see, Amara, you’re mine to touch. Mine to break. Mine to fucking ruin if I feel like it.”

“I don’t belong to you, Matteo,” I say through gritted teeth, the words trembling but still defiant. “You’re just a coward hiding behind your name.”

His laughter is sharp and humorless, his grip on my chin tightening just enough to make me stop breathing for a second. “A coward, huh? That’s rich, coming from the girl who’s trembling under me.”

“I’m not trembling,” I hiss, even as I know it’s a lie.

“No? Then maybe I’m not trying hard enough.” His voice dips lower, dark and velvety, like poison laced with honey. 

My chest tightens, my heart pounding as I try to steady my breathing. His words settle in my stomach like lead. “You’re disgusting,” I spit, my voice trembling slightly.

“And you’re fucking naïve,” he counters, his grin feral. “Let me tell you something, Princess, I don’t need to break you to own you. I don’t need your compliance. I just need you alive. The rest? That’s just a fucking game to me.”

My throat tightens, and I try to pull my chin free, but his grip doesn’t budge. His eyes flick over my face, and for a moment, his grin fades, replaced by something darker. Something possessive.

He finally lets go of my chin, his hand sliding to my throat instead, his palm pressing lightly against my pulse. My breath catches, and his grin returns, sharp and full of menace.

“Feel that?” he asks, his thumb brushing over the rapid beat of my pulse. “That’s fear. You’re scared of me, no matter how much you want to pretend otherwise.”

“I hate you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Hate me all you want, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and cutting, “but don’t lie to yourself. Hate’s just fear dressed up with a little fire.”

My fists clench above my head, but I don’t dare move. His palm feels like fire against my skin, his presence suffocating, a storm I can’t outrun.

“Do you know what hate does to me?” he continues, his tone taking on a dangerous edge. “It fucking fuels me. Makes me sharper, crueler and gets my cock hard as fuck. Hate is a slippery slope. One minute, you hate me. The next? You’re fucking obsessed.”

The words send a shiver down my spine, and I hate how easily he gets under my skin.

“I’ll never be obsessed with you,” I snap, the fire in my voice not quite matching the fear coursing through my veins.

Matteo chuckles again, his grip on my throat firm. “Never say never. I’ve seen stronger women than you fall apart in my hands. You? You’re just a ticking fucking clock, counting down until you break.”

“You’re insane,” I whisper, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to stay steady.

“And you’re in my world now,” he replies, his tone a deadly whisper. “Insane is the fucking norm, Princess.”

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of my ragged breaths. His gaze pierces mine, unyielding and unrelenting, like he’s daring me to fight back, to test him.

“You’ll regret this,” I say, my voice quieter now but no less firm.

He tilts his head, his grin returning with a cruel edge. “The only regret I have is not putting a fucking bullet in your mother’s skull. But you, Amara—you’ll learn true regret real fucking fast if you keep testing me.”

His hand finally leaves my throat, but the ghost of his touch lingers, the weight of his dominance pressing down on me even as he moves off the bed.

“I’ll give you credit,” he says, his voice lighter now. “You’ve got guts and it’s stupid and reckless. But don’t confuse that with power. Right now, I’m the fucking god you pray to. And you’d better hope I’m in a forgiving mood when you start your bullshit again.”

He adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, his movements casual, as if he wasn’t just threatening to ruin me moments ago. “Get some sleep, Princess,” he says, his tone mocking. “You’re going to need it.”

He turns and heads for the door, but just before he steps out, he glances over his shoulder, his green eyes gleaming with that same dark amusement. 

“And don’t get any ideas about running. You wouldn’t make it past the front gate. And if you did…” He smirks. “Well, let’s just say I’d enjoy dragging you back.”