Fated Series. Book #2
"Be possessive of me, own me, keep me, because if you do then nothing and no one else can." - Maddox.
My name is Maddox Vallero, and I'm dead.
Well, that's not quite true. I'm alive in the breathing, walking, talking sense-but...
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Chapter 13 Deserving of Punishment Sophia
We all know what gravitational pull is—or at least, I hope we do. And if you don't, go look it up, because I don't have the time or energy to explain it right now. But while you're at it, maybe find out if it's possible to feel that kind of pull toward a person. If there's some corner of your mind or body that, once it decides it needs someone, will keep you in a state of torture until it gets what it wants.
I didn't think that was possible, honestly. But now I'm starting to question everything, because here I am, sitting just a few feet away from Maddox's office, and I'm suffering.
It's not a physical pain—that would be easy. I know how to deal with that. This is something else, something quieter but more destructive, the kind of torment that creeps into your thoughts, hijacks your focus, and gnaws away at whatever fragile hold you have left on your sanity. And I'm holding on with everything I've got, but it's not enough. Not when every little sound that drifts out from his office makes me freeze, makes my heart jump. Not when every creak of his chair or rustle of papers has me on the edge of my seat, wondering if he's about to walk out here. Wondering if he'll say something in that low voice of his, something so absurd that it makes the dopamine in my brain spark and light up. Wondering if he'll look at me with that intense, almost reverent gaze, like I have the power to bring him to his knees.
Or maybe, just maybe, he'll pull me into his arms and promise me things I don't believe in but would fall for anyway.
And so, I sit here. Twenty feet away from him, losing my mind. Telling myself I made the right choice by walking away, by keeping things professional. I'm sure of it. I know it's the right decision, the only decision I could make. But then why does it feel like I've made the biggest mistake of my life? Why does it feel like my insides are slowly being torn apart, piece by piece, with every second that he's just a few feet away but still completely out of reach?
I try to remind myself of all the reasons I shouldn't want him. I go over every logical argument, every careful boundary I set for myself. But none of it makes a difference. None of it stops the ache.
Because I can feel him, even from here.
I can still hear his laugh in the back of my mind, like a bell that won't stop ringing. I can feel his hands on my skin, the memory of their smooth, stubborn grip clinging to me like smoke. When I close my eyes, I see those pale, teasing eyes—the ones that feel like they're conjuring a storm inside my head. This isn't just longing; it's real suffering. Because the one man I want is the one man I can't have, and now I have to sit here, breathing the same air as him, and accept it. I have to come to terms with being around him every day, knowing full well that nothing can happen between us.
God, a part of me wishes he'd be cruel. I want him to walk out here, look me in the eye, and say something so harsh I'd have no choice but to hate him. I need a reason—any reason—to pull myself out of this, because right now I'm spiraling. My walls are crumbling, piece by piece, and I'm scrambling to keep my sanity intact.
