Obsession

Life is But a Dream

"Sienna, I hate being used more than anything in this world."

Sienna was so deep in thought that she didn't hear his approach until his voice cut through the silence. Her index finger twitched over the mouse.

"Just using your laptop to send an email," she said, pulling her hand away with practiced nonchalance. Her long lashes fluttered, casting faint shadows against her pale cheeks. Her voice remained steady, a mask of calm. "I was too lazy to go all the way to the study."

Her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She wanted to turn and face him.

But the moment she moved, a cold, sharp scent enveloped her. Sebastian reached out, a long arm snaking around her waist from behind, pinning her in place. From her angle, she could see the sharp planes of his face—the shadow of his jawline, the slow, rhythmic movement of his throat.

He was devastatingly handsome. A masterpiece of a man.

Sienna lost herself for a split second, until his lips brushed against her ear, and a sudden chill raced down her spine.

Without warning, he pressed her down with one hand, sending her face-first into the soft silk of the duvet. A wave of numbness washed over her. Her brain felt like it was exploding; the sudden darkness and the wave of unbidden shame made her panic. She instinctively tried to scramble away.

"My hair... it's still wet," Sienna managed, her voice trembling.

"Mmhmm," Sebastian hummed behind her, his voice flat and unreadable. His cold fingers began a slow, predatory exploration of her skin.

The lie was so flimsy that Sienna couldn't tell if he believed her or not. With her back to him, she couldn't read his expression, and her heart stayed lodged in her throat. She let him have his way, but the time felt longer and more grueling than ever. She could barely suppress the soft, broken sounds escaping her; she was utterly defeated.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rain fell in a violent torrent. The lights of Repulse Bay were swallowed by the storm, leaving nothing but a hazy, shimmering blur of neon.

The crystal chandelier overhead cast cold glints of light that flickered as his shadow moved. She couldn't see his face; there was only the interplay of light and dark before her eyes. She felt like a fish washed up on the shore—clinging to the last spark of life, gasping for air, caught between an agonizing struggle and a slow death.

She was unusually submissive today.

Time blurred. In the midst of her hazy consciousness, Sebastian gripped her jaw and suddenly asked, "You've been staying here for over two weeks?"

"Yes," Sienna murmured, searching for a breath, her voice thick and confused.

Sebastian leaned close to her ear, his voice low and raspy. "Just to spite me?"

Sienna didn't want to talk. She tried to turn her head away, only to be jolted back to sharp awareness by a sudden sting of pain.

"No," she gasped. A veil of mist rose in her eyes, and the corners of her upturned lids flushed a deep, vivid red. She looked heartbreakingly vulnerable as she whispered the words she knew he wanted to hear. "I wasn't... I wasn't angry."

The man is a total sociopath, she thought. Usually, he treated her with cold indifference. Was now really the time for a heart-to-heart about their feelings? Sienna was beyond frustrated.

She suspected he was finding some sick new pleasure in tormenting her this way. She didn't have the strength to think, yet she didn't dare stop responding. Holding onto her last shred of sanity, she cursed him a thousand times in her head while offering disjointed, shallow answers to his questions.

Sebastian watched her unravel. He tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, his eyes dark and bottomless.

"How much did you pay that reporter to work for you?"

"Twen—"

The words "twenty million" were on the tip of her tongue, following the rhythm of his voice.

But as she met his half-smiling, half-deadly eyes, Sienna froze. Reality crashed back in, and a wave of pure terror surged through her. She gripped his arm, her slender back tensing uncontrollably. Her mind went completely blank.

The blood drained from her face.

Her lips parted as she watched a bead of sweat roll down his throat. Even now, his eyes remained terrifyingly calm and self-controlled.

Sebastian looked down, seemingly indifferent to her lack of answer. He was simply annoyed by her sudden stiffness. He gripped her neck and leaned down to bite her lip, forcing a kiss with a predatory aggression that left her no room to retreat.

Sienna tasted the metallic tang of blood.

She didn't close her eyes. Neither did he.

The sensation of suffocation mixed with a dizzying rush of pleasure. Sienna yielded to the kiss, nearly blacking out from the lack of air. Just as she thought he might actually choke the life out of her, his grip loosened. He let her go.

The faint light caught Sebastian’s eyes—black, cold, and unexpectedly calm.

But it was that very stillness that was the most terrifying.

Sienna didn't dare move until he fully released her. She locked her fingers behind his neck, her voice softening into a low, seductive hum as she repeated a single word: "Cold."

The AC was blasting, and the room was indeed chilled, but she was burning with a feverish heat. He could feel her tension radiating off her. In the midst of that fire, a brilliant, dangerous beauty bloomed in her eyes. Every thought, every scheme she held... it was all laid bare before him.

Sebastian let out a soft, short laugh. It was impossible to tell if he believed her lies or if he simply didn't care to call her on them yet.

"Don't be in such a hurry," he said, his dark eyes trapping hers. He pressed his palm to her cheek, slowly wiping away the tear at the corner of her eye. His voice was the same as always—low, gravelly, and devoid of emotion. "You'll be plenty hot soon enough."

Sienna’s mind lagged a beat. She debated saying something to cover her tracks, but realized that trying to hide the truth now would only make her look like a fool. Her head was a chaotic mess.

But soon, she couldn't even form a coherent thought. All that remained was a soft, breathless plea:

"Sebastian..."

"Wasn't this exactly what you were waiting for?"

It was raining outside. Sienna didn't know where she was; she just took a dazed step forward.

Lightning flashed, followed by the low rumble of thunder. Dark, leaden clouds bled a weak, sickly light that blurred the world into a hazy grey. It felt like this late-summer rain was more violent than any winter blizzard.

A silver-grey Rolls-Royce Ghost sat idling by the road outside a cemetery. A hand holding a cigarette rested on the open window.

The owner’s face was half-buried in shadows, save for a glint of light in his dark, brooding eyes. They were cold, devoid of warmth, and filled with a simmering, explosive violence.

"You've been lurking in the shadows for so long. Does it feel good to see him crawling through the mud like a dog?"

Sebastian?

Sienna stood frozen. She was soaked to the bone, looking bedraggled but still hauntingly beautiful. She instinctively took a half-step back, trying to escape his gaze, until the edge of a tombstone hit the back of her legs, stopping her cold.

Nowhere left to run.

"Why are you hiding? You should be thanking me." He seemed satisfied by her fear, watching her with a dark, intensifying interest. "If I hadn't cleaned up your mess, did you really think you could walk away clean?"

Sienna didn't speak. Her hands and feet were ice cold, her back rigid. Only when a black umbrella appeared over her head, cutting off the freezing rain, did she look up. She met his gaze head-on. "What do you want?"

She didn't show it, but her heart was hammering. "Did you come here just to expose me?"

The tension in the air was thick enough to draw blood. But the man only let out a deep, mocking chuckle.

He flicked away the ash and crushed the cigarette.

"I'm just reminding you: don't start a fight you aren't prepared to finish." He gripped her jaw, a flash of genuine cruelty in his eyes. "Since you couldn't wait to make your move, you should have finished him. You should have made sure he stayed down forever."

His cold fingers pressed against the back of her ear, sliding down the length of her carotid artery. His voice was a raspy, low growl. "The opportunity is right in front of you. You're a smart girl, Sienna. You know what to do."

The atmosphere turned surreal and twisted.

The agonizingly slow movement of his hand felt like a caress and a threat all at once. Dark thoughts began to bloom; an addictive, f*******n desire surged through her.

Sienna looked at him, her throat dry and constricted. Her long lashes twitched, shaking off droplets of rain. She wanted to run, but her body was frozen.

Her lips parted, the words barely a whisper. "I didn't..."

"You didn't what?" Sebastian sneered. His eyes were darker than the storm clouds. He pinned her against the car, his aura radiating pure violence. "You didn't target me on purpose? Or you didn't have an ulterior motive from the start?"

He gripped her throat. "Sienna, I hate being used more than anything in this world."

Sienna sat bolt upright, gasping for air.

A dream.

She breathed heavily, her mind a total blank. It took her a long time to regain her senses.

The sky outside was that pale, pre-dawn grey, with only a few lonely stars flickering in the fading night. Heavy curtains blocked the view from the window. Sienna rubbed her temples, pausing when she felt a thin layer of cold sweat. As she moved, the sheer exhaustion and soreness from the night before hit her like a tidal wave. It felt like every bone in her body had been taken apart and put back together.

A ghost of a mountain, a river in a dream.

The memories of the previous night came rushing back—an overwhelming flood of feverish, intimate moments.

The movement woke Sebastian. He frowned slightly, his voice thick with sleep and irritation. "What's wrong?"

Sienna spun around, staring at him with wide, haunted eyes.

She had been jolted awake by a nightmare. A nightmare about the man lying right next to her. In the dream, Sebastian had literally strangled her to death!

The sensation of suffocation was still fresh; the image of him looming over her in the rain, radiating cold fury, was seared into her mind. She couldn't shake the horror of the dream. Her brain was sluggish, but her survival instinct was sharp. She scrambled to get out of bed.

Thump—

She hit the floor with a heavy thud and let out a pained "Ow!" as she clutched her ankle.

Fantastic. When it rains, it pours.

The dream was a tragedy, and reality was a farce. She was pretty sure she could win first prize at a "Who Has the Crappiest Life" convention.

Sienna sat on the carpet, n***d and gasping in pain, when the overhead lights suddenly flared to life.

She looked up.

A shadow loomed over her. Sebastian had thrown on a robe and was at her side in three strides. He looked down at her with a look of pure, unadulterated annoyance, his brow knit.

The initial flash of concern vanished, replaced by a cold edge. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sienna looked back at him, her expression a mix of pain and lingering terror.

Her skin was pale, and a red ring was already forming around her ankle. It wasn't broken, but it hurt like hell.

"Don't... stay back!" As he leaned in, her mind flashed back to the nightmare. She scrambled backward on her hands and feet, her voice trembling with genuine panic. "If you come any closer, I'll—"

Sebastian arched an eyebrow. "You'll what?"

He dropped to one knee in front of her, his wrist resting lazily on his leg. He looked like a predator that had just woken up—lethargic but dangerous. He watched her with interest, letting out a low, dark chuckle. "Do you want me to call for help? Should I scream 'murder' for you?"

"..."

The scene was absurd. She was covered in the marks and bruises he’d left on her the night before; combined with her terrified expression, her raspy voice, and his mocking smile, it looked like a literal crime scene.

Sienna went quiet, staring him down while shivering. "Be a human being for once, Sebastian. Seriously."

Does he have anything in his head besides filth? Not a single normal thought.

"You're the one who started the amateur dramatics," Sebastian said coldly, tossing a robe toward her.

The gesture was rough and impatient. He treated her like she wasn't even a woman—no tenderness, no mercy.

The robe landed over her head. Sienna fumbled with it, pulling it on and wrapping it loosely around her. She sat there in a sulk for a long time before finally stuttering out a few words. "I had a nightmare."

Her voice was tiny, sounding genuinely hurt.

He had expected her to be cold or defiant; this display of vulnerability caught him off guard.

Sebastian felt a sudden flicker of amusement. He hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her back onto the bed. His thumb traced the vertebrae of her spine in a lazy, rhythmic motion. "What did you dream about?" he asked, his patience surprisingly intact.

Sienna leaned against his chest, shifting restlessly. She hesitated for a long time before murmuring into his skin:

"I dreamed about you."