Bound By Obsession

Chapter 3

I paced back and forth in Michael’s room, waiting for him to come in. I was very angry. When he finally walked through the door, I didn’t wait for him to speak. I immediately launched at him, hitting him repeatedly on his chest as I shouted, “Let me go, Michael! You have no right to keep me here!”

He caught my wrists. His grip was gentle, yet he looked me dead in the eyes. “Angela, I’m not the bad guy here,” he said calmly, as if trying to soothe a tantrum. “After tonight, you’re free to go. But I assure you, you won’t want to.”

I yanked my arms away, glaring at him. “It’s been five years, Michael. Five f*****g years with no word from you. And now you show up, acting like you’re still in love with me?” I scoffed.

He took a step closer. There was a hint of arrogance in his eyes. “Angela, sooner or later, you’ll understand,” he murmured. “You’re mine. I’ve been looking for you ever since you left. I never should have let you go to San Francisco.”

“You’re a liar,” I spat.

Michael didn’t react to my accusation. Instead, he just tilted his head as a faint smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll show you I’m now a good guy, even if I have to be the bad guy to prove it.”

Then, as if he hadn’t just made my blood boil with rage, he casually mentioned that he was going to take a shower. Without hesitation, he started unbuttoning his shirt. I tried to keep my composure, but for a brief moment, I was in awe, especially when he pulled his pants down.

“My eyes are up here, love,” he teased, clearly revelling in the situation.

I quickly masked my reaction with indifference. He walked into the bathroom, and as soon as I heard the water running, I noticed a bottle of wine on the table. Without thinking, I grabbed it and gulped down nearly half. I really needed it—for what I was about to do.

I put the bottle down and walked toward the bathroom. He had underestimated me if he thought I’d back down. I stripped down till I was naked and slipped into the shower with him. Michael raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised.

“You think I don’t know you well enough to guess what you’d do?” I taunted. “I know you’ll still touch me, even though you said you wouldn't, because deep down you know Angela Mendes will always be a sucker for you.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and he stepped forward, pinning me to the shower wall. “And?”

I held my breath, meeting his gaze steadily. “If that’s what you think,” I whispered, “then you’re exactly... wrong.” I said as I managed to slip away from his grip. It was clear I had gotten the man pissed, but like I said, he’d underestimate me if he thought I’d back down. As I was about to leave, Michael pulled me back, and this time, our lips were close to each other as though we were to share a hot, steamy kiss.

“I don’t think you understand me when I say that you’re mine, Angela. I’m never letting you go, not again, not ever.” Michael declared as the both of us let out ragged breaths. He could see it in my eyes. In that moment, I forgot about the past, everything Michael made me go through, and I focused solely on the present.

He pulled me in for a vigorous kiss, and as if that wasn’t enough, he lifted me up and put it in as he began slowly, thrusting his way in and out. I let out loud moans, and it only gave him the permission to do more. I wanted so badly to forget about that night, and that was exactly what the alcohol was for.

The next morning, I finally woke up and everything felt like a hazy, alcohol-laced dream. I forced myself to sit up, disoriented, and the reality of the situation began to settle in. Michael was lying next to me, his bare shoulder visible under the covers. The slightest ray of sunlight creeped through the curtains, and it reminded me that I was in trouble.

“Work!” I bolted upright, glancing frantically at the clock on his nightstand. I was late. Of all days, on the morning after my promotion, I was going to be late. I panicked as I scrambled to find my dress from the night before. It was wrinkled and far too short to be considered office-appropriate, but I had no choice.

I slipped the dress over my head, barely took a second to run my fingers through my hair, and rinsed my mouth with a bit of mouthwash I found on the bathroom counter. I was already halfway out the door when I ran into Michael’s maid, a young woman who was amused by my presence.

“So,” she said slyly, “you’re the famous Angela he’s been wasting his time looking for.”

“Excuse me?” I muttered, still half asleep, and dazed.

The maid shrugged, crossing her arms. “Don’t think you’re anything special. He’s slept with nearly every woman in town. I’d be careful if I were you.”

Who is she? What does she know about me?

I felt a wave of annoyance mixed with embarrassment, but I brushed past her and made my way out. I didn’t have time for her opinions. I was already in enough trouble.

I reached the office with my dress rumpled, my hair barely brushed, and I was sure I still smelled faintly of last night’s wine. The stares I got from my colleagues made me cringe, but I held my head high, marching straight toward Mr. Davis’s office.

He took one look at me, and his face fell. His lips pressed into a tight line as he gestured for me to sit. I barely had time to make an excuse before he silenced me.

“Angela,” he said. “This is extremely unprofessional. You were given a promotion just yesterday. Is this how you choose to show up on your first day in the new role?”

I opened my mouth, searching for an excuse, but nothing came. All the rational explanations I’d thought up in the cab had evaporated, leaving me feeling as disoriented as I looked.

Mr. Davis sighed, with a cold gaze shaking his head.

What has Michael gotten me into?