FIRE AND OBSESSION
1288 Words
Matteo
The moment the door shut behind him, my legs gave out.
I didn’t even make it to the couch.
I leaned against the door first just stood there staring at the handle like it might turn again. Like he might come back.
My chest felt tight. My breathing uneven.
Why can’t he forget about it?
It was one night.
One reckless, impulsive, out-of-character night.
People do that all the time.
You meet. You drink. You lose control. You wake up. You move on.
That’s how it works.
So why is he so stuck on it?
I pushed myself away from the door and walked slowly into the living room. Everything felt surreal, like my apartment had shifted slightly out of place.
He had stood here.
In my space.
Looking at me like I belonged to him.
I ran a hand through my hair in frustration.
“I won’t give in,” I muttered to myself.
No matter how intense his stare was.
No matter how powerful his presence felt.
No matter how my pulse betrayed me when he stepped closer.
I won’t.
He doesn’t get to show up at my door, invade my life, and expect me to just… follow him.
Who does he think he is?
The news from earlier flashed in my mind the assassination. The black suits. The controlled way his men moved.
A cold realization began forming at the edges of my thoughts.
He’s not normal.
Not just rich.
Not just confident.
Dangerous.
I swallowed.
Maybe I should be afraid.
Maybe I am.
I forced myself into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The light felt too bright against my eyes. I grabbed leftovers and reheated them mechanically, barely tasting anything as I ate.
My mind kept replaying his words.
Come live at my place.
I’m interested in you.
Interested.
Like I was a business investment.
Like he had decided I was something to acquire.
I dropped my fork into the sink and exhaled sharply.
No.
I won’t give in to his request.
No matter what.
After cleaning up, I showered quickly, hoping the water would wash away the tension coiled under my skin.
It didn’t.
When I finally slid into bed, exhaustion hit me hard but sleep didn’t come easily.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
The way his gaze darkened when I told him to leave.
The faint smile when I threatened to call the police as if he knew I wouldn’t.
Or worse.
As if he knew it wouldn’t matter.
Luca
By the time I got home, the call had already come in.
One of the warehouses had been set on fire.
Not fully destroyed.
But damaged enough to send a message.
I didn’t go inside.
I turned the car around.
Business first.
Always.
The warehouse smelled like smoke and melted plastic when I arrived. Flames had already been put out, but the air was thick and heavy.
Dan stood near the entrance, his jaw tight.
“We caught one,” he said quietly.
I nodded once.
“Bring him.”
They dragged the boy forward.
He couldn’t have been more than twenty-two.
Terrified.
Shaking.
Tied at the wrists.
I studied him calmly.
“Who sent you?” I asked.
Silence.
His eyes darted around wildly.
I stepped closer.
“I’ll ask again. Who sent you?”
His lips trembled, but he said nothing.
Defiance?
Or fear of someone else?
Either way, I didn’t have time for games.
I glanced at Dan.
“Handle him.”
Dan stepped forward without hesitation, grabbing the boy by the collar. The fear broke instantly.
“S-Sir! I’ll tell you!” the boy cried. “Please! I’ll tell you!”
Too late.
I didn’t like hesitation.
I didn’t like betrayal.
And I certainly didn’t like being tested.
One shot.
Clean.
Efficient.
The echo bounced against the metal walls before fading into silence.
Dan lowered the weapon.
“I’ll dig into it,” he said. “Find out who’s behind the attack.”
“Do that.”
If someone thought they could challenge me, they were mistaken.
I turned away from the body without another glance.
But as I walked back toward the car, my mind drifted.
Not to the fire.
Not to the threat.
To him.
Matteo.
The way he looked at me when he was angry.
The way his voice shook just slightly when he tried to sound brave.
There’s something about him.
Something that pulls.
I’ve had countless men and women in my life.
None of them stayed in my thoughts like this.
None of them made me want to pursue.
To chase.
To claim.
By the time I reached home, the house felt unusually empty.
I went to my room, removed my jacket, and poured a drink.
I stared at my phone for a long moment.
Then I dialed.
Matteo
I had just started drifting into shallow sleep when my phone buzzed.
I groaned and reached for it blindly.
Unknown number.
I hesitated.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then
“MATTEO!
My eyes snapped open.
I sat up immediately.
“Who is this?”
A soft exhale on the other end.
“Mr. Luca,” he said smoothly.
My heart began pounding.
“How did you get my number?” I demanded.
“That’s not important.”
“It is important!” I shot back. “This is wrong. You’re invading my privacy.
A pause.
Then, surprisingly
“I’m sorry.”
The words caught me off guard.
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
My grip tightened on the phone.
“You showed up at my house,” I said coldly. “That’s not normal.”
“I told you,” he replied calmly. “I’m interested in you.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You haven’t thought about what I said?”
“No.”
A lie.
Silence stretched between us.
“I won’t leave with you,” I continued firmly. “I don’t even know you.
“You know enough.
“No, I don’t.
My voice shook slightly, and I hated that it did.
“This is just a one-night stand,” I said. “It meant nothing.”
The air on the other end went very still.
“It meant something to me,” he said quietly.
I swallowed.
“That’s your problem.”
Another silence.
Then his tone shifted softer, but with steel underneath.
This will be hard,” he murmured.
What will?
Letting you go.
My stomach tightened.
You should try,” I said, forcing strength into my voice.
And you should reconsider.”
“I won’t.”
Without giving myself time to hesitate, I cut the call.
The silence afterward was deafening.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Why does he sound so certain?
Why does it feel like this isn’t over?
I lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling.
I told him no.
I meant it.
Didn’t I?
Luca
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone slowly.
A small smile curved my lips.
Stubborn.
Fierce.
Brave enough to hang up on me.
Good.
I prefer resistance.
It makes the victory sweeter.
He thinks this is about one night.
It’s not.
It’s about the way he looked at me like he wasn’t afraid even when he was.
It’s about the way he fits in my mind like he was always meant to be there.
This will be hard.
But I will get him.
One way or another.
I set the phone down and leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.
Somewhere across the city, he was lying awake.
Thinking about me.
Whether he admits it or not.
And that?
That’s the beginning.
To be continued…
- Writer
