Possession in Silence
She arrived like sin dressed as grace.
It wasn't just a dress.
It was a weapon.
Liquid black velvet, hugging her like it had been poured onto her skin. The corseted bodice cinched her impossibly small waist, while the skirt flared and cut away high at the thigh, high enough that every step was a threat. Crystals trailed from the hem upward, shimmering like they were made to lure men to their deaths.
And she knew.
God, she knew exactly what she was doing.
I saw the way heads turned when she entered. Men craning their necks, women whispering behind their champagne flutes. Even Alexander that smug bastard, couldn't take his eyes off her.
I clenched my jaw so tightly it hurt.
The Croft heir, the untouchable one, and here I was, fighting the very real urge to cross the room, throw her over my shoulder, and take her out of here.
Where no one could look at her.
Where no one could touch her.
Where she'd remember she was mine.
Except... she wasn't.
Not really. Not yet.
And that was driving me insane.
She laughed.
It was soft. Light. But it hit me like a gunshot.
I followed the sound and found her with him, Alexander. Leaning in, too close. She touched his arm. He said something clever, probably rehearsed, and she threw her head back in that laugh. The one she never gave me.
Something inside me snapped.
It wasn't jealousy.
No. jealousy was too human. This was something darker. Primal.
I wanted to break his hand for touching her. I wanted to erase that smug look on his face.
And I wanted to remind her who she belonged to.
The memory hit me without warning.
The falls.
Years ago. At her family's hacienda. She was younger then, still wild in ways she hides now. I had come to speak with her father, but instead I found her there.
Bathing in the natural spring, hair slicked to her back, white dress clinging to her like a second skin, she was wearing nothing underneath. I could see all of her and it snapped something inside of me.
She didn't know I was watching.
I should have left.
But I didn't.
Every movement, every drop of water sliding down her neck, I memorized it. That day burned itself into my brain, poisoning me slowly ever since.
That was when it started.
The obsession.
The quiet, consuming need to have her.
.......
And now here she was, laughing with another man like I didn't exist.
Like she wasn't mine.
Her back was to me when I stepped into the shadows, cigarette between my fingers, smoke curling around me like armor.
"Enjoying yourself?" I asked, my voice low, controlled.
She didn't flinch. She never flinched.
"I didn't realize you were keeping tabs on me," she said lightly, tossing the words like a challenge, that practiced socialite smile on her lips.
Tabs?
No. Tabs were for people who cared casually. This wasn't casual.
"Tabs?" I stepped closer, slow, deliberate. "No. I don't need to. You're hard to miss when you're laughing like that."
She arched an eyebrow, mockery in her gaze. "Like what?"
"Like you're trying to make me watch."
That got her. A flash of irritation behind that perfect mask.
"Don't flatter yourself, Klaude. I wasn't performing for you."
"Oh, you were." Another step. Close enough to see the rise and fall of her chest. "You always do."
She knew I was angry.
She liked it.
"You seem awfully upset for someone who claims not to care," she taunted.
My jaw ached from how hard I clenched it. "You were with Alexander."
She tilted her head, exposing her neck, her bare shoulder. Deliberate. Provocative. Mine.
"He's charming. He makes me laugh."
My control nearly snapped.
"I don't care if he makes you laugh," I bit out. "Men like him don't want conversation, Anastasia. They want to put their hands where they don't belong."
"And what if I let them?"
Her tone was soft, but her words? A match to gasoline.
I was on her before I could stop myself.
My hand at her waist, gripping hard enough to bruise. To remind her exactly who she belonged to.
"You won't," I said.
She didn't look away. Didn't cower.
"Won't? Or can't? Because the last time I checked, I'm not yours to command."
I leaned in, so close I could feel her breath. "Oh, you are. Whether you like it or not."
She laughed, sharp, cruel. It cut deeper than any blade.
"Do you hear yourself? You disappear for weeks, comfort other women when I'm lying in rubble, and then dare to claim ownership over me?"
Her words hit like a strike. I tightened my grip instinctively.
"Don't start with that."
"No," she snapped back, finally cracking that saintly composure. "You don't get to silence me because it's inconvenient for you. I was humiliated, Klaude. Publicly. And instead of defending me, you ran to her."
Her name burned in her mouth like poison.
Olivia.
My silence betrayed me.
"Do you love her?"
The question stopped me cold.
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because I didn't even know the answer myself.
And she knew it.
Her cruel little smile said as much. "That's what I thought."
I wanted to shake her. I wanted to kiss her.
I wanted to burn down everything between us until nothing was left but her and me.
"You want me to lose my mind, don't you?" I growled.
She leaned forward, forcing me to meet her gaze. "If I wanted that, Klaude, I'd do far worse than laugh at another man's joke."
My restraint was hanging by a thread.
"Careful, fiancée," I warned, voice low, almost feral. "Keep playing this game, and you'll see what happens when I stop being patient."
She smoothed her dress where I'd wrinkled it, smiling like she'd won.
"Who said I wanted you to be patient?"
I almost grabbed her again.
Almost.
Instead, I stepped back, fighting to keep control.
"This isn't over."
She didn't even blink. "Of course it isn't."
And then she walked out. Like I hadn't just been seconds away from losing myself entirely.
She didn't see it, couldn't, but my hands were shaking.
Not from weakness.
But from the effort it took not to drag her back, pin her against that wall, and remind her in no uncertain terms who she belonged to.
Mine.
Always.