All Chapters of The Don's sinful obsession : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

~~~~Anne's POV~~~~Luca stands over Mr. Morrison's body for a long moment, staring at the blood pooling around the old man's head. Then he turns to me."You're coming with me."His voice comes cold and final, leaving no room for argument.He reaches down and grabs my arm, just above the elbow, then yanks me to my feet. His grip is like iron, making pain shoot through my shoulder."Let go of me." My voice comes out as a whisper."Not a chance."He starts dragging me toward the front door as panic floods my chest.No. No, no, no. Austin. I can't leave him."I said let go!" I speak louder now, almost a scream.I dig my shoes into the floor and twist my arm, but his fingers don't budge. I kick at his shins and yet nothing. He is like a wall."Keep fighting," Luca says without looking at me. "It won't change anything."My free hand claws at his wrist, leaving red marks from my nails. But he still doesn't flinch.Then it occurs to me, his gun. The same one he shot Mr. Morrison with. Still i

~~~~Anne's POV~~~~The street is empty as I walk fast, keeping to the shadows, my arm still throbbing beneath the bandage. The Velvet Room is just six blocks away. Six blocks of dark alleys and closed shops with too much silence.I should have called a cab.Then footsteps approach behind me. Fast and closing in.I don't turn, just walk faster."Ms. Perry."Not a question. A statement.I run.A hand grabs my hair. Yanks me backward. I hit the pavement hard and my injured arm screams. I bite down on my lip to keep from crying out."Don't scream," a voice says coldly. "Or I'll break your other arm."Two of them. Dark clothes. No faces.I kick, and my foot connects with something soft. I hear a grunt, Then a fist slams into my ribs and air leaves my lungs."Please—"A cloth presses over my mouth and nose. Chemical sweet and burning.Then darkness.---I wake to the slash of cold water on my face.I gasp, choke, fight. But my wrists are tied behind my back with my ankles bound to a chair.

~~~Anne's POV~~~The Velvet Room smells like spilled whiskey and desperation.Same smell every night. Same sticky floors. Same cracked vinyl booths where men old enough to be my father try to put their hands on my waist. Same dead look in the eyes of the other girls who work here, the ones who have been here too long, the ones who have stopped hoping for something better.I have only been here a month. Already I understand.My arm aches. The bandage is fresh—I changed it before my shift, wincing at the angry red skin underneath. My ribs scream every time I reach for a glass or bend to wipe a table. My split lip has stopped bleeding, but the cut keeps opening when I smile at customers.I smile anyway. Fake. Hollow. The way I have learned to survive.You have survived worse, I tell myself. You survived Lucinda. You survived the fire. You survived watching your mother's body burn.A man at table four snaps his fingers at me. Demands another drink. I bring it. He doesn't say thank you. Th

~~~Anne's POV~~~I don't remember leaving the club.One moment I am sitting in that red velvet chair, Luca's words still burning in my ears, his cold smile still carved into my memory like a brand on cattle. The whiskey glass in his hand. The way he said mistress like it is a gift instead of a cage.The next moment I am outside, stumbling down the alley, my heels slipping on wet pavement, my lungs gasping for air I can't seem to find. The night air hits my face. Cold. Sharp. It wakes something in me.Run.The word explodes in my chest.I run.Not toward my apartment. I can't go there. He knows where I live. He has been there. He broke in. He killed a man on my floor while I watched. My landlord's blood is probably still on the floorboards. His slippers still by the door.I run toward the train station. The same one I almost used before. The same one where I bought a ticket north, back to Sarah, back to Austin, back to the only life that matters.Foolish. Stupid. He caught me there onc

~~~~Anne's POV~~~~Three days.It has been three days of scrubbing floors and polishing silver, serving meals to people who look through me like I am made of glass. Three days of cold shoulders and whispered words that stop the moment I enter a room. Three days of Luca's eyes following me everywhere, watching, waiting and enjoying.I haven't spoken to him since the library. Since I tried to tell him about Lucinda and he just laughed in my face.He doesn't visit my room at night. Doesn't call me to his bed. Doesn't touch me at all as I'd expected, and that is a relief. The waiting, not knowing and yet feeling of being a spider in a jar, watched by a child who hasn't decided whether to poke it or crush it.On the third day, a servant named Elena speaks to me.Not words of cruelty or silence, but real words."You look tired," she says.I almost drop the tray I am carrying. "I'm fine.""You're not fine." She glances around. No one is watching. "None of us are fine here. But some of us hav