Twisted Obsession

34 - Inferno

Lorenzo Vincelli

The power Luciana held over me was suffocating, consuming—and I'd let her claim the master bedroom, my bedroom, in the million-dollar apartment I'd bought, while I was exiled to the couch. Her laughter, soft and careless, drifted through the cracked door, clawing into my sleepless haze until I finally rose, barefoot and tense, making my way toward her.

The door creaked open, and there she was, lounging with the kind of grace that only fueled my frustration. She wore a burgundy silk nightdress that draped along her figure like liquid, slipping up just enough to reveal pink lace beneath, teasingly visible as she stretched. I slid under the sheets beside her, and before I could even find my words, she smirked, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Did you get a nightmare?" she mocked, her tone laced with sarcasm, treating me as if I were a child.

I gave her a hard look. "You're not making me sleep on that couch." My voice was firm, but she only rolled her eyes.

"Do you need me to tuck you in bed?" Her words were drenched with that same cruel smile, daring me to feel something.

"Luciana," I muttered, exasperated, sinking back into the mattress with a sigh.

She turned off her phone, her expression softening just slightly as she placed it aside. Then, with an air of playful domination, she swung herself onto my lap, straddling me. Her fingers wove into my hair, tugging with just enough pressure to remind me of her control, and she let her hands slide slowly down to the back of my neck.

"You're pathetic, Lorenzo," she whispered, close enough for me to catch her scent.

"And you're a bitch, Luciana." I tilted my head up, my gaze meeting hers, taking in her unguarded beauty—the light brown freckles scattering across her face, those soft green eyes that seemed too warm for someone so vicious. "But you don't see me complaining, do you?"

She laughed, a sound so soft it nearly unraveled me. "You created this bitch, Enzo," she said, her voice almost tender, fingertips tracing the line of my jaw. "Aren't you proud of your creation?"

I stayed silent, resisting the magnetic pull of her touch as she toyed with me, her fingers brushing against my cheek with something that bordered on affection.

"But at least I'm not sad and pathetic." Her laugh was silk and venom. "What happened to you? When did you get so soft?" Her voice shifted, almost... concerned.

She leaned closer, voice low. "The Lorenzo I knew—the one I loved—was a cold, narcissist motherfucking cunt." She tilted her head, as if I were a memory she was trying to resurrect.

"Was?" I repeated, barely above a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"

A scoff escaped her lips, sharp as glass. "See? That was pathetic." She adjusted on my lap, her expression twisting with mock pity. "Are you going to beg for my love now?"

Her words dripped with disdain, but her eyes held a spark of something else—some flicker of the Lorenzo she was trying to summon. "I want the Lorenzo who hurt me, who made me into this heartless bitch. That's the man I love. Not... this." She let her gaze trail over me, almost disappointed. "No wonder the Allisters tore you to shreds," she muttered, her voice thick with derision. "Get your fucking shit together, baby."

She sighed, pulling back as if I'd lost her interest. "Anyways..." Her voice softened, and before I could respond, she leaned in, her lips brushing my cheek with a delicate kiss. "Goodnight, princess."

And with that, she slid off my lap, slipping under the covers beside me with a soft yawn. She turned her back, settling herself with a finality that left no room for argument. I lay there, staring at her silhouette, her words echoing through the silence, her dismissive warmth lingering on my skin as sleep finally pulled me under.