Gabriel's Obsession

Inescapable Nightmares

Gabriel's POV

Frustration gnawed at me as I paced the suite, replaying the moment in my mind. I hadn't wanted to resort to the belt—she was the first woman I had ever treated that way—but she had left me no choice. Her defiance had pushed me, forced my hand.

I exhaled sharply, pushing away the lingering discomfort. It was necessary. A lesson. She needed to understand the consequences of disobedience. If she learned from this, then perhaps such measures wouldn't be required again.

With that justification settled in my mind, I moved on.

Leaving the hotel, I immersed myself in the demands of business, attending a meeting that required my full attention. Yet, even as discussions stretched on, my thoughts drifted back to her. Had she eaten anything in my absence? Ordered room service, at the very least?

It was a fleeting concern, one I quickly dismissed. She was fine. She would learn to be fine.

The meeting dragged on for hours, filled with negotiations and figures that should have commanded my focus. By the time it concluded, night had fully settled over Paris. I wasn't particularly hungry. Our early dinner had been sufficient but there was something else pulling at me.

A quick glance at my watch told me it was already 6 p.m. A nagging curiosity crept in, compelling me to return to the hotel and check on her.

Stepping inside, I was met with silence—unnerving, absolute. The suite felt untouched, as if time had stopped in my absence. My steps were slow, measured, as I moved toward the bedroom, anticipation curling in my chest.

Then I saw her.

She was sprawled on the floor beside the bed, her small frame curled in on itself. Her hair, tangled and unruly, partially obscured her face, strands clinging to her cheek. Even in this disheveled state, there was something strangely endearing about her.

I exhaled, then crouched down, sliding an arm beneath her. She barely stirred as I lifted her, her body warm and pliant in my grasp. Carefully, I laid her onto the bed, my gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.

Had she eaten anything while I was gone? The thought unsettled me. She had already been weakened, and it wouldn't do for her to fall ill under my care. I strode toward the phone and placed an order for dinner, ensuring it would arrive soon.

Then I turned my attention back to her.

"Angel," I murmured, brushing a hand against her cheek. "Time to wake up."

She stirred slightly but didn't open her eyes.

"You've been asleep for quite a while now, sleepyhead," I coaxed, my voice softer than I intended.

Her lashes fluttered, and slowly, her eyes opened. The moment her gaze met mine, I saw it—fatigue, wariness... fear.

Then her body began to tremble.

"I... I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... s-slept too long."

A pause. A breath. Then, more fragile than before.

"Plea... please... don't... hit me."

The words were so soft, so raw, that they struck something deep within me. Her wide, tear-brimmed eyes pleaded with me, her shoulders curling inward as if bracing for a blow that wouldn't come.

My chest tightened.

I had known she would fear me. That had been inevitable. But seeing her like this, so fragile, so small, trembling beneath my gaze—unsettled me in a way I hadn't expected.