Page 137 of Venomous Desires

“Did you miss me?” he asked, his voice taking on an almost mocking tone. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, and I fought the urge to pull away. “Even a little?”

The question was a trap. Any answer would only feed his twisted sense of control. I kept silent, my heart pounding in my chest.

He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to my ear. “I thinkyou did,” he whispered, the words sending a shiver down my spine. “I think you like having me around, even if you won’t admit it.”

The breath hitched in my throat. He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, a twisted smile playing on his lips. “It’s okay to admit it,” he said, his tone almost coaxing. “You’ll feel better once you do.”

“I don’t—” The words died in my throat as his hand tightened its grip on my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Shh,” he whispered, a mockery of tenderness. “No need to lie. We both know the truth.”

His grip loosened, and he brushed his thumb over my lower lip, his gaze following the motion. “You’ve been mine from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he said, his voice soft yet laced with something dark. “And that won’t change, whether I’m here or in Italy.”

He straightened, but his gaze never left me, as if he were memorizing the sight of me before he left. “Don’t forget it,” he added, his voice carrying a subtle warning.

As he turned to leave, I could finally breathe again, the air rushing into my lungs like a lifeline. But before he reached the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder with that same twisted smile. “I’ll be watching you,” he said, the words dripping with possessiveness. “So be good while I’m gone. And get ready, I’ll be taking you out on dinner tonight.”

Chapter 54

The Prey

This… this felt surreal. To the point that I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Why would he send me this?

As I pulled the red dress from the paper bag, my fingers brushed over the luxurious fabric. The tag—a name that screamed wealth—hung from the sleeve. My breath caught. It was something the younger me would’ve died to wear. Now? It felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

A box sat beside the dress, the lid slightly open. Cherry red heels, delicate and fierce, just like the man who’d chosen them. Next to that, a small box with diamond studs and a ribbon. The bow? Red, of course. It was all a message.

My hands trembled as I placed the dress back. But the thought of refusing him wasn’t an option. I knew what he was capable of, what lines he wouldn’t hesitate to cross. Wearing this dress—it wasn’t just about dinner. It was control, and he had all of it.

Sighing, I grabbed the dress and put it on. Though the morethe fabric touched my skin, the more it burned.

The reflection in the mirror wasn’t mine. The dress hugged every curve, tailored to perfection. Of course, it fit. Judas always knew. My pulse quickened as I slipped into the heels. My movements were mechanical, like I were assembling his perfect doll.

He wanted me to shine. But I was a star trapped in his sky, burning for his amusement. He took without pause, without question. And now he wanted to dress me up, parade me around like his prized possession.

My lips twitched into a bitter smile. What choice did I have? Refuse, and the consequences would be far worse.

The truth was simple. Better a bird in a gilded cage than one with clipped wings.

I twisted my hair into a low bun; the strands slipping through my fingers, soft yet heavy, like the weight of his gaze. A few pieces fell loose, framing my face, an attempt at casualness that felt anything but.

The mirror reflected my neck—bruised, marred with the evidence of him. His mark. I reached for the concealer, dabbing it on with a steady hand, though my heart hammered in my chest. Each swipe over the bite marks felt like erasing a part of myself, as if hiding them would somehow make the truth disappear.

My foot throbbed in protest, still swollen from his last display of control, but the heels were non-negotiable. Red leather, sharp and sleek, they slipped on with a finality I couldn’t escape. I strapped them tight, wincing as the pressure bit into my skin, my sprained ankle screaming in silence.

I stood, the woman in the mirror a stranger. Shoulders stiff, posture perfect, the dress clinging like a second skin. My lips curled into something that resembled a smile, but there was nothing warm about it. This wasn’t me—this was the version hewanted. The one he created.

Just as I finished putting on a red lipstick, the door creaked open, breaking the fragile eeriness in the room along with my peace. My pulse quickened, the sound of drumming in my ears. Slowly, I turned, and my every movement was deliberate, like a prey cornered but refusing to run.

Time seemed to stretch into agonising seconds as the monster walked in.

His black tuxedo clung to his broad frame, crisp and perfect, as if it were made of shadows and danger. Something that defined him. He moved with an effortless grace, fingers adjusting his cuffs like this was all just routine—a man preparing for dinner, not a beast stalking his claim.

But it was the brooch that caught my eye. Red, deep as blood, gleaming from his chest. I swallowed hard, my throat tight.

He stood there, framed by the doorway, dark hair tousled just so, like a king stepping into his throne room. His jawline sharp, a mole resting beneath his full lips, adding an edge to his devilish beauty. Dimples appeared when the corner of his mouth lifted, a smile not quite reaching his eyes, those pale, piercing eyes that saw everything.