Chapter 9
1403 Words
The spoon hovered inches from my lips.
I stared at him.
At that smirk.
That devilish, infuriating, arrogant smirk.
And then… slap.
My palm cracked across his jaw so hard that the plate of food slipped from his hand, crashing onto the marble floor, spilling everywhere.
“You f*****g psycho!” I screamed, chest heaving, breath trembling.
“You ruin my life, huh?! You think you can cage me, force me, break me?!”
He didn’t move. Didn’t yell back. Didn’t even blink.
“Listen carefully, Rivan Shah!” I jabbed a finger at his chest, my voice raw.
“I am not gonna be that obedient wife from your twisted little dreams. You can lock me here, chain me, do whatever the hell you want but you will NEVER own me!”
For a moment, silence.
His jaw tightened, his dark eyes burning with something unreadable fury, hunger, maybe both. Then… he stepped back. Slowly.
“Done?” he asked coldly.
I froze.
“Good.”
And without another word, he turned and strode to the door.
But before leaving, he glanced over his shoulder, voice low, sharp, lethal:
“You don’t want to eat? Fine. You won’t eat. Until I say so.”
The click of the lock echoed like a death sentence.
Hours Passed
I sat curled on the couch, hugging my knees, stubbornly ignoring the growl of my stomach.
No food. No water. Nothing.
The sun dipped, shadows stretched, and the penthouse lights dimmed into a suffocating darkness.
By midnight, my throat burned. My body screamed for something anything to drink.
But my pride… my pride kept me glued to that couch.
Until finally, I broke.
Snatching up my phone, I opened the food delivery app with shaky fingers.
“Two large pizzas. Extra cheese. And Coke,” I whispered to myself, as if saying it out loud would make it real.
Half an hour later, headlights flashed outside the mansion gates.
Finally.
I ran to the massive glass window, heart pounding, watching the delivery boy approach the guards.
But before he could step past the gate, they crossed their arms, blocking him.
“LET HIM IN!” I screamed, banging on the glass.
“HEY! That’s my order! Don’t you DARE stop him!”
One of the guards looked up but didn’t move.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he called back. “We have strict orders from Mr. Blackwood.”
“Are you out of your f*****g mind?!” My voice cracked, raw with frustration.
“I paid for this food! It’s mine!”
The delivery boy hesitated, holding up the bag helplessly.
“Uh… ma’am? They’re not letting me—”
“DON’T you dare walk away!” I yelled. “Give me my damn pizza!”
But the guards stood like statues, cold, unblinking, immovable.
Inside the locked mansion, I was screaming myself hoarse, fists pounding against the window.
Outside, the delivery boy finally gave up and turned back, disappearing into the night.
And Rivan…
I knew he was watching.
Somewhere, from one of those endless hallways or hidden cameras, he was watching me.
I sank onto the floor, chest heaving, anger boiling so deep it tasted like blood.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.
The clock struck 12:17 AM.
Silence.
The penthouse was drowning in shadows, dim golden lights tracing along the marble floors.
I sat on the couch, knees hugged to my chest, my body trembling from hunger, lips dry, stomach screaming for mercy.
I hated him.
I hated every inch of this suffocating mansion.
I hated him more than words could hold.
And yet… I couldn’t stop hearing his voice in my head.
"You don’t want to eat? Fine. You won’t eat… until I say so."
That bastard.
That smug, heartless, goddamn psycho.
Just as I was about to curl deeper into the couch, the door clicked open.
The heavy door creaked open, breaking the silence that had settled like suffocating smoke. My eyes flicked up instinctively. Rivan stood there, tall and devastatingly composed, holding a tray of food as if he owned every breath I was taking.
I stiffened on the couch, folding my arms across my chest.
“Get. Out,” I spat, refusing to even look at him properly.
But he didn’t move. Instead, he walked towards me with that maddening calmness, every step deliberate, every click of his shoes against the marble echoing inside my chest.
“Eat,” he said simply, placing the tray on the coffee table in front of me.
I scoffed. “You think I’ll eat anything from your cursed hands? After everything you’ve done?”
He smirked that cold, infuriating curve of his lips that screamed danger.
“You’ve got two options, Kiara,” he drawled, leaning down until his face was just inches from mine. “Starve and make yourself weak… or eat and stay strong enough to keep fighting me. I’d prefer the second one. I like my prey fiery.”
I clenched my jaw, my anger sizzling like acid under my skin.
“Prey? You psychotic asshole. I’m not your toy.”
Rivan didn’t flinch. His voice dropped lower, darker velvety yet sharp.
“You already are, Kiara. Whether you like it or not.”
I glared at him, my chest heaving. “I hate you.”
His smirk deepened, eyes glinting like burning coals. “Hate me all you want, sweetheart. But hate… is just the other face of obsession.”
My throat went dry. His words slithered into my veins like poison, and no matter how much I wanted to scream back, my stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly, betraying me.
Rivan raised an eyebrow. “That’s adorable. Even your body knows who’s in control.”
“f**k you,” I snapped, grabbing the cushion and throwing it at him. He caught it mid-air, his reflexes infuriatingly smooth, and then he just… laughed softly.
“Eat, Kiara,” he ordered again, softer this time, like a whisper that left no room for refusal.
I stared at the tray perfectly cooked pasta, fresh juice, fruits and then at him, my pride battling my hunger. After what felt like an eternity, I finally gave in, snatching the fork and stabbing a piece of pasta like I was murdering him through it.
“Happy now?” I muttered between bites.
Rivan sat across from me, watching. Always watching. Like a predator studying his prey’s every move.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and it wasn’t affectionate it was possessive.
When I finished, I slammed the fork down and stood up, heading straight for the bed.
“You got what you wanted. Now leave.”
But instead of leaving, he loosened his tie and kicked off his shoes.
“I said leave!” I shouted, spinning around.
He looked at me lazily, his voice low and commanding.
“This is my room, Kiara. Our room. Get used to it.”
Panic surged in my chest. I backed away instinctively as he approached, his presence swallowing the space between us. He stopped just inches away, his breath warm against my temple as he whispered:
“Relax. I’m not touching you… not yet.”
Then he walked past me, slipped under the covers, and laid back like he owned not just the mansion, but me.
I stood frozen, fists clenched, tears threatening to spill but refusing to give him that satisfaction.
“Go sleep somewhere else,” I managed to whisper.
“No,” he replied casually, shutting his eyes as if my protests were irrelevant. “From now on, this bed belongs to both of us.”
I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw his face. But exhaustion weighed down on me like chains, and eventually, I sank onto the very edge of the bed, keeping as much distance between us as physically possible.
Silence wrapped around us, thick and suffocating. My heart hammered in my chest. And just when I thought he had fallen asleep, his voice came low, dark, terrifyingly calm:
“Kiara… stop wasting energy on plans to escape me. The moment you stepped into my world, you became mine. Completely.”
I bit my lip hard, tasting blood, refusing to give him a reaction. But deep down, a horrifying truth was starting to sink in.
I wasn’t trapped in his mansion.
I was trapped in his obsession.
- Writer
