All Chapters of Bound by a Family Lie: His Forbidden Obsession: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

Melody I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until colors burst. Down the hall, a door opened. Footsteps—heavy, unhurried. It was Luca’s. They passed my room without slowing. A minute later the shower started. I stared at the ceiling, trying not to picture water running over the same body I had already seen too much of. I flipped onto my side and dragged the pillow over my head. * It started the way most invisible things do—quietly. After my mother died, my father became distant. Present enough to sign forms and pay bills, gone the second the practical work ended. He buried himself in work while expecting me to simply grow up. I felt invisible, constantly searching for someone who would look at me and not glance past. One cool evening, my father returned home from a trip with a woman. His new wife. Eleanor Moretti. She was calm, lovely, and had the kind of beauty that didn’t need to announce itself. She spoke lightly of a son who lived in the city close by

Luca One night sleep wouldn’t come at all. The house too quiet and I wasn't concentrating on work. My own bathroom sat too close to the hall. Any sound I made in there would be carried. I ended up in the guest bath at the far end and turned on the tap, allowing water running uselessly into the sink to cover the rest. I stripped. My fist went straight to my cock, wrapped around it because the alternative was pacing the dark like a fucking animal until I did something worse. I stroked it roughly. Angry. Jaw locked. Head tipped forward, hair in my eyes. Twenty-eight, CEO of a company that bent cities, and I was jerking off in my mother’s new husband’s guest bath like a teenager who couldn’t hold his own leash. My mind supplied her anyway. Her soft stomach. Her wide eyes. That ruined little voice in the garden trying to be brave. The flush on her throat when the wine spilled. My grip tightened. “Melody—” Her name dragged out between my teeth before I could kill it. I

Melody I lasted twenty minutes.I took my cup to the kitchen because the housekeeper was off on Mondays and because I needed something to do with my hands. I rinsed it, then rinsed it again. Through the window over the sink I could see the garden, the bench where I'd stood babbling at him with wine on my dress, the gravel he'd ground his cigarette into.Who was Molly?It wasn't my business. Nothing about him was my business. I said it to myself twice, and then I dried my hands and walked down the back hall toward the guest office anyway, because apparently I had learned nothing.The door was half open. I heard his voice before I saw him, low and very calm, which I was beginning to understand was the most dangerous way he spoke."—you call my mother's house again, and you'll find out exactly how little patience I have left." A pause. "No. We're done. We've been done for a year." Another pause, longer. "Don't threaten me, Molly. You have no idea what you're dealing with.”The line must

Luca The guest office smelled of old paper and Richard's cigars. I shut the window, didn't shut the door, and called her back. Ignoring Molly had never once made her go away. It just made her creative. She picked up on the first ring. "There he is." Bright and sweet, the voice she used at dinners when she wanted people to think she was harmless. "You're a hard man to reach these days, Luca." "You called my mother's house." "I called Eleanor. We had a lovely chat. Did she tell you?" A pause, so I could feel it. "No. She wouldn't, would she? Eleanor's very good at not telling people things." The window glass was cold under my palm. I hadn't noticed putting my hand there. "You call my mother's house again," I said, "and you'll find out exactly how little patience I have left." "I miss you." "No. We're done. We've been done for a year." "A year." She laughed softly. "You know what I did with that year? I cleaned out my apartment. Found a box of your things. Old things.