Chasing Sandro: A Dangerous Obsession

Chapter 14: Dangerous Desires

Bella sat at her desk, the glow of her laptop casting shadows across her face as she stared at the screen. The plan was in motion. She had taken the first step, crossing the line she had once vowed never to approach. There was no going back now.

As the details of her arrangements slowly began to solidify, Bella's mind wandered into dangerous territory. The plan itself was calculated—meant to push Sandro toward her by creating a crisis only she could resolve—but there was something else brewing deep within her. An unsettling, darker side of her obsession that had begun to reveal itself.

Her fantasies of Sandro had always been vivid. In the beginning, they were simple, innocent daydreams—of dinners shared, stolen glances, and tender moments. But now, as her grip on reality began to slip, those fantasies had taken on a different tone, one that both thrilled and terrified her.

Bella stood up and walked to the window, her eyes trailing over the city lights below. She imagined Sandro, not as the powerful congressman he had become, but as a man stripped of his defenses, vulnerable and entirely at her mercy. In her mind, he wasn't giving speeches or charming the public. Instead, he was with her, in the shadows, relying on her completely for his survival.

The image of him, weakened and dependent, ignited something inside her—a desire not just for his love, but for control. She wanted to be the one he turned to in his darkest moments, the one who saved him from the world, from himself. It wasn't enough to simply love him anymore. She needed to *own* him, to have him under her influence in a way that no one else ever could.

Bella closed her eyes, letting the fantasy unfold. In this world, Sandro would be hers. He would no longer be able to toy with her feelings or brush her aside when it was convenient. He would realize that no one else could offer him what she could. And once he did, he would fall at her feet, begging for her love, her protection.

A shiver ran down her spine as the images became more vivid. She imagined him kneeling before her, broken and desperate, his once confident demeanor shattered. She would be the one to build him back up, piece by piece, but only on her terms. He would owe her everything, and he would finally understand that their connection was inevitable.

But with these twisted desires came an undercurrent of fear. Bella knew this wasn't love—not anymore. Love didn't look like this. It didn't feel like this. Yet, despite the growing unease within her, she couldn't pull away from the fantasy. It was intoxicating, addictive. The more she indulged in it, the more she craved the power it gave her over him.

Bella returned to her desk, sitting down and staring at her reflection in the darkened screen of her laptop. Who had she become? This wasn't the woman she used to be—the woman who once believed that love was about kindness, mutual respect, and trust. No, this was something else entirely. Something darker, more dangerous.

And yet, she didn't feel ashamed.

Instead, she felt exhilarated.

Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. It was a message from the contact she had called earlier, the one helping her set the wheels of her plan in motion. "Everything's in place," the text read. "It'll be done soon."

Bella's heart raced as she read the words, the reality of what she was doing sinking in. Soon, Sandro would find himself in a situation he couldn't escape from. Soon, he would need her in a way he had never needed anyone before.

She felt a twisted sense of satisfaction knowing that the plan was set. But as much as she longed for the moment when Sandro would come to her, begging for help, a part of her was also afraid. Afraid of what she had become, and afraid of what might happen if her plan didn't go as expected.

What if Sandro resisted? What if, even in his moment of need, he refused to turn to her? What if, instead of growing closer, this crisis drove him further away?

Bella pushed the thoughts aside, unwilling to entertain the possibility of failure. No, she wouldn't let that happen. She had come too far, sacrificed too much. Sandro *would* fall for her, one way or another. And if he didn't... well, she would cross that bridge when she got there.

But for now, Bella allowed herself to revel in the dangerous fantasies that had begun to consume her. She imagined Sandro's voice, pleading with her, thanking her for saving him. She imagined the power she would hold over him, the way he would finally see her for what she was—the only woman who truly understood him, the only one who could protect him.

Her desires had become twisted, but Bella no longer cared. She was past the point of no return.

Whatever it took, whatever lines she had to cross, she would make Sandro hers.

And nothing—not even her own conscience—would stop her.