Gabriel's Obsession

Bruised and Broken

Amelia's POV

When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was movement—the rhythmic hum of tires against pavement, the gentle sway of the car. Then came the realization.

I wasn't in my seat.

I was sprawled across Gabriel's lap.

Panic prickled at the edges of my consciousness as my eyes fluttered open, taking in the unfamiliar cityscape blurring past the window. Paris. The word lodged itself in my mind, heavy with finality. The vast distance from home, from everything familiar, crashed over me like a tidal wave, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest.

Gabriel's arm rested securely around me, his hold possessive even in my sleep. The thought of him carrying me from the plane to the car sent a shudder through me. His touch, no matter how gentle, was still a violation. His false kindness a carefully constructed illusion.

"You're awake," he murmured, his voice soft and calculated. "We arrived hours ago. You looked peaceful, so I carried you here. I didn't want to wake you."

There was something almost tender in his words, a feigned warmth designed to deceive. But I saw through it.

I knew what he was.

A monster, wrapped in silken lies, playing at affection while holding me captive.

Paris had once been a dream city I longed to visit, a place of beauty and wonder. But now, it was just another gilded cage. And I was trapped inside it.

The car rolled to a stop, and my breath hitched as I took in the sight before me. The hotel was nothing short of magnificent. An architectural masterpiece that radiated wealth and power. Its towering façade, adorned with intricate details and glowing lights, was the kind of beauty most people dreamed of experiencing.

But for me, it was just another gilded prison.

No amount of luxury could mask the reality of my situation. This place, no matter how breathtaking, belonged to him.

"You'll keep admiring, or are you getting out?" Gabriel's voice cut through my thoughts, laced with amusement. I could hear the smirk in his tone, dripping with arrogance.

I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I exhaled a tense sigh and stepped out of the car, my movements measured, careful. I kept my gaze averted, unwilling to meet his eyes, unwilling to acknowledge the power he held over me.

The moment we crossed the threshold into the hotel, the air changed. Cool, perfumed and  suffocatingly grand. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over marble floors, and murmured conversations filled the vast lobby. To any outsider, this was a dream, a place of luxury and indulgence.

To me, it was just another layer of my captivity.

I forced my feet forward, but the weight in my chest only grew heavier. What was Gabriel's plan? To keep me here, locked away in a world of wealth, where no one would question my presence? Or was this all just another step in his twisted game—to wear me down until I broke?

My eyes flickered around the lobby, searching. An exit. A security guard. Someone who might see past the illusion and recognize my silent plea for help. But deep down, I already knew the truth.

Escape wouldn't come easily. Not here. Not yet.

So I walked beside him, my posture rigid, my mind already calculating. I would bide my time.

And when the moment came, when he was vulnerable—I would take it.

The exchange between Gabriel and the receptionist unfolded in fluid, effortless French, a language I had excelled in during my studies. Yet, standing there, listening to every word, I felt like an outsider.