Gabriel's Obsession

A New Home

Gabriel's POV

It has been a month since I chose to tell her the truth—at least, part of it.

I couldn't bear the thought of her seeing me solely as a villain. So I gave her just enough to shift her perspective, leaving out the darker truths that might push her further away. I know the pain I've caused, the scars I've left behind. My obsession with her still lingers, an unshakable force, but I've learned restraint.

I had to.

Over the past month, I've remained by her side, careful, patient. I've let her see the version of me that I want her to believe in—the one that can change, that can be better for her. And it's working.

The fear in her eyes is fading.

She's beginning to open up, to exist beside me without flinching. I don't touch her in ways that might unsettle her, and in return, she's learning to trust me—at her own pace, in her own way.

Progress.

Meanwhile, my world continues to shift. My father has officially transferred all of his business holdings to me, cementing my status as the sole owner of Hamilton Enterprises. Publicly, I am an elite businessman, the picture of power and success. But beneath the surface, my underground ventures remain intact, thriving in the shadows.

She knows nothing of that life. And she never will.

Some truths are better left buried.

This morning is no different.

I wake on the couch—my usual choice, allowing her the comfort of the bed. Even in sleep, she looks delicate, peaceful. It's a stark contrast to the first days, when terror followed her like a shadow.

Tomorrow, we leave Paris and return to England. Our time here is coming to an end.

I rise, slipping into a sleek black suit, adjusting my Rolex, ensuring that every detail—my hair, my beard, my presence—is as precise as always. A spritz of cologne lingers in the air as I cast one last glance at the sleeping form before me.

Leaning down, I press a kiss to her forehead.

A silent promise.

One I intend to keep.

Amelia's POV

Morning came slowly, the soft glow of daylight filtering through the curtains.

I stirred, feeling more rested than usual. A glance at the bedside clock told me it was nearly 11 a.m.—far later than I typically slept. The realization sent a ripple of unease through me, a habit born from the past month's silent vigilance. But today, for some reason, I allowed myself a moment longer beneath the covers before rising.

The routine was familiar now. The washroom, conveniently located beside the bed, became my first destination. Warm water cascaded over me in the shower, washing away the remnants of sleep, leaving me refreshed yet contemplative.

When I stepped out, I chose a pair of slim-fitting jeans and an off-shoulder floral blouse—something light, something that felt normal. My hair, still damp, was gathered into a ponytail.

The past month had changed everything.

Surprisingly—almost shockingly—I no longer feared him the way I once did.

Gabriel had remained by my side, offering an unwavering presence, and somewhere along the way, the walls of terror I had built around myself began to crack. He wasn't the monster I had believed him to be—at least, not entirely.