Obsessive Desire

(Extreme Desire)

E.R.CRUZ

•°    ARMSTRONG °•

I received a phone call in the early hours of the morning...

After that call, I knew that finally, ELLA would be mine.

That angel with sun-kissed skin and curly hair that made me desire her so much. Rebellious, brave, beautiful, and an extraordinary woman. She now belonged to me!

I had to wait for a year, comforted by the fact that those promissory notes would soon be due — notes that were owed by a man addicted to gambling. This man, with the last name D'Angelo, offered his most valuable possession in exchange for the debts that had accumulated in my casino in Spain. He knew that one day he would have to pay, even after pleading countless times for more time — time that had run out. Finally, the day I had been waiting for had arrived, I would see her in person, no longer satisfied with just seeing her photos, photos taken by my private detective who had been shadowing Miss D'Angelo ever since her father handed me those pictures and offered her as a bargaining chip, along with signing a document making her my wife.

"Finally, I will meet you, my beauty, how rich you are!" I said, my voice cold, providing solace to the silence in that dark room, illuminated only by the light from the fireplace.

That Sunday morning was cold, as was I.

"I will make you fall in love with me!" I swirled the whiskey in my glass and drank the liquid in one gulp.

The door to the dark room opened, and I became annoyed because my insatiable girlfriend, now my ex, was coming towards me, as she often did in the early hours of the morning, simply because I didn't have time due to my work at my company.

Her name was Paula, and we had recently had an argument, causing our relationship to cool off. However, she tried in every way to win my forgiveness, and I granted it. Paula was ambitious, and I liked that, but I didn't love her, nor was I infatuated with her. It was more of a relationship of appearances, and she knew that. I always warned her that there would come a day when we would go our separate ways, and that day was fast approaching because from now on, I would have a new companion, even if this companion would give me a great deal of trouble and headaches.

"Who were you talking to, my love?" she asked, circling the armchair where I was sitting, watching the fire in the fireplace.

"It doesn't matter" I said, noticing the oiliness of her fair skin in the light of the fireplace.

Paula tied up her red hair and took the glass from my hand, placing it on the nearby coffee table. She and I exchanged an intense look as she looked down at me, and I thought about the gentlest way to end things with her. She already had an inkling of our future.

Paula sat with her legs spread on my lap and held my jaw. Her mouth moved towards mine, but the only touch she felt was from my open hand, which slightly held her back.

She shifted in my lap, already aware that I wasn't interested. In fact, I no longer wanted to have relations with her so close to the arrival of Miss D'Angelo.

"Paula... it's over!"

And sadness reflected in her eyes.

"I know you don't desire me anymore, I know our time together is over, but even so... I need to feel you one last time. You know that I love you, even though you are a person..." she interrupted herself, and I stared at her.

"Go on!" I said coldly.

"No." she lowered her gaze.

She used to call me by my last name when she was scared. In reality, my name was Megan Armstrong, the only child of deceased parents and the owner of a magnificent empire. Owner of a casino and a vast fleet of imported and sports cars, to the delight and pleasure of the wealthiest.

My company, whose name was "Armstrong More," was located in the center of London, and it was there that all car sales and consortiums were handled and negotiated.

My parents, like me, were Londoners and highly recognized by the upper and wealthier classes of all London. But that wasn't all, with the fame accumulated over the years, through expansions in the foreign market and more negotiations, enemies also arose - enemies that were eliminated with every step they took.

I belonged to a family that possessed secrets, irreparable mistakes, and enemies thirsty for power. I was always a target, and my head was auctioned off every passing second on the cursed clock.

In the not too distant past, my private jet was targeted by a missile, where I had the unfortunate loss of trusted and loyal employees. Their families had my support and were compensated for their heads of household suffering and losing their lives while they were at work and following my orders.

Some time later, as I was leaving a luxury hotel, a sniper shot me in the left chest near the heart, and on that day, I truly thought it would be my end, but reality proved otherwise. I slowly recovered, and that shot left me with a scar that would be a part of me until the end of my days. The shooter, well, I had no choice but to send him to a prison filled with many bad men and the worst kind: psychopaths, murderers, and rapists. But during my trial, I did not see myself as cruel. I thought about killing him, but my other choice was the right one; he would suffer greatly.

The black-haired Londoner - as my bodyguard Mercier used to call her - lightly caressed Paula's chin as Paula looked fearfully into my dark blue eyes, totally hypnotized.

"Our end has arrived, Paula," I whispered in her mouth, and she tried to touch her lips to mine, but I pushed her head back as I lightly squeezed her neck, feeling the pulse of her vein and her irregular breath. "I said," I blew into her mouth, "our end has arrived! There is no more us... soon, I will have what I have desired for a long time in my hands."

"I love you," she said, and I could see her tear-filled eyes, even though they were somewhat blurry. "And I truly hope you will be happy."

"I made it clear to you, Paula. You always knew I was searching for someone else."

"Yes," she lamented and removed my hand from her neck, moving away from me, leaving me there with my back turned to her. "And I have always loved you madly."

I remained in the same position, feeling and hearing the sadness and resentment in her soft voice.

"I'm leaving. I'm going to move on with my life. But before..." she approached stealthily and hugged me from behind, her scent and warmth enveloping me. "Before, I want you to know something."

"Then tell me."

"We were made for each other, and only I can have you."

"What?"

Without expecting such words, Paula's actions, and the annoyance in her voice, also containing anger and dominance, I felt my abdomen being pierced in a quick and precise manner, with an agile and heavy hand rotating the object that caused pain and burning in my organs.

I screamed...

Paula moved away, and the only strength I had left was to look into the eyes of the woman who claimed to love me one last time. I saw her blood-stained hand and a switchblade with my blood on it. Her gaze was tense, and her body trembled. I saw regret displayed in her eyes and an expression of fear.

I fell before darkness overtook my eyes and my life slipped away. I saw her flee, leaving me there to die.

***

"Armstrong is waking up... she needs..."

"I heard a voice in the distance saying something about me, a voice that grew louder as I slowly awakened. My eyes were still closed and I could hear my breathing, slightly heavy. I took a deep breath, feeling a shortage of air in my lungs, and groaned, feeling a tightening pain in my abdomen. I remembered the foolishness that Paula had committed.

In that moment, I didn't worry about her, I only worried about my sick and painful state. Something that surprised me, something that would certainly leave a scar on me. Paula had been planning revenge against me for a long time and I wasn't expecting such madness from her. Now it remained to be seen if she was caught, if my men threw her in the mansion's prison or if they simply killed her for trying to take my life, like they did with my enemies.

"Armstrong?"

I heard that rough voice close to my ear calling me, a voice that belonged to Mercier. He was already back from his trip to New York, where he had gone to fulfill the mission under my orders.

"Armstrong?" he called me again and I felt the warmth of his hand enveloping mine, in a tender way, which I brushed off. He always cared for me as if he were some relative of mine, acted like an overly protective father, in fact, already being a man of 50 years and endowed with impressive strength and muscles.

"Speak, Mercier!" I ordered with a yawn and he certainly smiled.

"How do you feel?"

"Almost dead, but... I'm fine."

He sniffed between a smile and squeezed my hand, which I returned the squeeze.

"I came back as fast as possible after fulfilling the mission that was assigned to me, when I found out what happened to you."

"Thank you for caring." I said and felt the intoxicating pain again enveloping my whole torso.

"You're welcome."

There was silence...

Mercier, as well as my other men, had already returned from the mission I had placed them on, and finally, after a long year, she was there, meters away from me.

"Mercier?"

"Yes, Armstrong?"

"Where is she?"

"In the place you ordered."

"And how was the trip from New York to here?"

"A bit turbulent since she's a young woman... a disobedient young woman."

That made me laugh. Obviously, Miss D'Angelo would never agree to travel to London with unknown men, but she couldn't avoid it, her future was to be by my side.

"What method did you use, Mercier?"

"I had to drug her after we kidnapped her while she was returning home..."

"And what was this irresponsible girl doing on the streets in the middle of the night?" I asked intrigued, interrupting Mercier and opening my eyes. I saw his fair face and black hair, as well as his brown eyes.

"She was surely coming back from some party. We followed her ever since she left a house where loud music was playing and she wasn't alright... she was crying, seemed remorseful."

Miss D'Angelo wasn't alright... she was crying... Crying?

"I want to see her now!" I said and tried to sit up, but then I realized there was a needle in the back of my hand, a drip. I also felt pain in my abdomen.

"You can't get up, Armstrong..."

"I need to... I need to see her... I need to hear her voice, Mercier."

"It's not possible. You've been on this bed for a day."

"A day?"

"Yes... the knife pierced your flesh deeply, but it wasn't that big, so it didn't reach your organ."

"When will I be able to walk?"

"The doctor said you'll be better in 4 days, then you can walk."

"And who will take care of me during these 4 days?"

"We hired a nurse, she's already here and will clean the wound and help you with whatever you need."

"Okay."

There was silence, Mercier stood up and walked in the room. The curtains of the window were open and I could see it was night.

Miss D'Angelo couldn't get out of my mind, I wanted her for myself, but now, I would have to wait another 4 days to see her. She was so close to me, but at the same time, so far away.

"Mercier?"

"Yes, Armstrong?" he said turning around, showing great concern and approached.

"Bring her to me!"

Mercier hesitated."

"Armstrong... I know I shouldn't comment on your decisions, but just this once, I ask you to wait a little longer. You're not at your best and wouldn't be able to handle a possible argument or any display of force."

"Is that what you think, Mercier?"

"Yes, but... you're the one in charge here."

"Very well, Mercier... I will take your advice. I know it won't be easy when she meets the person she'll spend the rest of her life with."

"Speaking of that... Mr. D'Angelo's marriage contract will be in the office... when the time comes... tell her the truth."

"Yes, Mercier... the conversation with Stella D'Angelo will be lengthy. Take care of her while I'm in this state, don't mistreat her, don't raise your voice, and if she wants to leave our room... allow her, but don't let her see me like this."

"It will be done, Armstrong."

D' ANGELO

On the first three days away from everything I knew, I couldn't even close my eyes to sleep. I was kidnapped, drugged, and those who had done this to me didn't even bother to hide their faces. I saw each of the men's faces clearly as they surrounded me. I didn't have the strength to fight against those brutes because I was on the verge of breaking down in tears - tears of regret, of anger, and of frustrated love.

In the early morning, before being kidnapped on the Brooklyn Bridge by strong men in a black car, I had to endure pain, a pain capable of ending anyone's happiness.

I had been invited to a party where I would meet some friends and schoolmates, but also my girlfriend, who used to tell me every day that she loved me. I was seventeen years old and already knew that the love I felt for her was real and that I wanted to have her by my side forever. And in that early morning, while searching for her in every room of the friend's house who invited us, I found her in a compromising situation with my supposed best friend. I cried when I saw them, and the only thing I thought about was running away and keeping my distance. My now ex-girlfriend Ariana followed me, trying to explain how things had been, but the only response she received from me was a deserved slap against her pale face.

I left without a direction, bumping into innocent people, and decided to wander the streets of Manhattan.

Ariana saddened my heart and my whole being, she shouldn't have done that on the same night we celebrated the end of high school and in an important week for me because my 18th birthday was just around the corner.

In the car with my hands tied and my messy curls falling over my face, hiding it completely, I heard the black-haired man next to me talking to the other man who was driving the vehicle. My heart had been racing since the moment I was taken, tied up, and thrown into that car. I could only imagine my end and the ways they would use to kill me. They weren't merciful, but they also didn't say anything, even though I tried to talk to them, and that would be my fate.

In just one early morning, I had been betrayed, kidnapped, hurt, and the only thing left was to be killed and raped. I know I wasn't thinking straight, fear consumed me entirely, desperation didn't let me breathe.

A ringing sound came from beside me and the man's rough voice began to be heard. He seemed to be talking to someone in a higher position than him, someone named Armstrong. Both talked about me.

"We have her, Armstrong."

The call ended.

Armstrong was certainly a man, the man who ordered his men to kidnap me. He must be a damn son of a bitch, a sadistic bastard and arrogant jerk.

Those men were taking me to him, someone whom I had started to fear and hate long before meeting him.

After feeling something like a needle piercing me slightly, I started to struggle, even though I was strapped into the seatbelt. I kicked the front seat and made a scene with screams and curses. The man next to me held me tightly and everything I did was in vain, and little by little, I lost strength and an absurd drowsiness took hold of me... I passed out.

When I woke up, I saw that I was in the company of men dressed in black, with guns at their waists and seriousness on their faces, both of which disgusted me. I realized I was lying on a large bed with blood-red sheets and bedside tables around me, with turned-off lamps. It was already daytime and the sun was shining through the glass window, with curtains descending from the ceiling.

I shifted on the luxurious bed and the men stood at attention, as if I were an enemy of the state or a damn terrorist, of all the people, I had no idea why I was kidnapped or why I was in a different place.

I pulled the blanket over me completely when I noticed that my clothing, completely different from what I was wearing when I was kidnapped, was somewhat revealing and I didn't want the eyes of those assholes on me, staring at me like perverts.

I took a deep breath as I observed the entire room with walls made of black stone and came across a recently extinguished fireplace. There was an armchair near the window, as well as a coffee table with bottles of bourbon and whiskey - the alcoholic tastes of a man - and where was this so-called Armstrong?

Was he afraid to look or meet the 17-year-old girl who ordered the kidnapping?

My only desire was to kill the one who claimed to be Armstrong, but armed security guards were my impediment.

An absurd hunger took hold of me and I got up, still wrapped in the blanket, and stepped onto the black, cold floor. I looked at one of the guards and he wasn't one of those involved in my kidnapping.

The black-haired guard stared at me and I wondered if I should address him or wait for Armstrong's kindness to bring me something to eat. I thought this way because if it was to kill me, I would surely be seven feet under the ground in a black bag.

The guard and I exchanged nervous glances, and as I took a step towards him, he backed away as if he had been repelled like a mosquito by a spray. I took another step towards him, while the other guard with a beard and red hair just observed, and the black-haired one backed away again, eventually pulling out his revolver and pointing it at me. It was a tense and silent moment.

Why were they acting this way when I obviously couldn't fight them? Why didn't they open their mouths to reprimand me? Why were they silent?

That silence was tormenting me...

I sat on the edge of the bed and the guard returned the revolver to his waist, standing there like one of the queen's soldiers.

I stared at the red-bearded one and he wasn't so ugly, and I thought about this so-called Armstrong and how he might look physically.

Could he be one of those disgusting pot-bellied bosses from the movies?

Could he be a mafia boss?

Or could he be an irresistible hunk who kidnaps girls to be his sex slaves?

In my purest little heart, I would choose the third option, even though I had no interest in individuals with Y chromosomes.

I laughed at that useless thought, and when I noticed a tough smile being returned by the red-haired one, I ignored him and quickly ran to the window, letting the blanket fall to the floor, but the black-haired guard grabbed my forearm, paralyzing me.

I glared at him furiously, ignoring the fact that he had a revolver in his waistband, and pushed him away so that he kept those filthy hands away from me. Then, he stepped back, becoming like the bearded one.

It was obvious that they couldn't touch or speak to me, and I kept that thought in my mind. Then, I looked outside and through the window, I saw a pool surrounded by a large garden of red and white roses.

From the edge of the pool, at the end of the garden, I could see a guard pacing back and forth, being attentive and vigilant. I was in a place where things weren't a joke, and it hit me, making me feel sad. I would never leave that place again, I would never see my aunt Georgia's face again, and I would never speak to my father through phone calls again. My life had already changed, and no one would be able to find me or rescue me from there. The only thing missing was a hellish situation on my birthday, which was approaching.

My stomach growled with hunger and I walked towards the bed. When I sat down and thought about talking to the bearded man, the wooden door opened and the black-haired man who had participated in my kidnapping entered, bringing with him a tray with what seemed to be everyone's desired breakfast. Fruit, biscuits, juice, coffee or tea. My eyes saw and my stomach desired. But they also saw that brutal man whom I had learned to hate.

The man walked over to the small table and placed the tray on it. Then he turned to look at me with a smile on his face, as if he were a butler smiling at a guest. He wasn't ugly, he had a pleasant appearance.

"Good morning, Ms. D'Angelo," he said kindly.

Ms. D'Angelo?

"Good morning is a lie..."

"Insults or foul language are not allowed in this mansion, unless Armstrong permits it!" he interrupted me and I trembled with anger. "Are you hungry?"

"Tell that Armstrong guy that he is a despicable bastard and that you all are sons of bitches!"

"She's feisty," the black-haired one whispered. "Little does she know that this Armstrong guy is..."

"Shut up, Jones!" he shouted and his scream made me shudder.

"Yes, Mr. Mercier," Jones silenced himself, completely weak and bowed his head.

I smiled at the situation and stood up, walking towards Mercier. He straightened his posture, crossing his hands behind his back.

I thought about what this Armstrong guy could be... Why did Mercier interrupt right at the best part? Intriguing.

"And when will Armstrong have the courage to talk to the harmless girl he sent to be kidnapped?" I confronted Mercier and he remained silent, just watching me.

I walked over to the small table and took some strawberries for myself, which I ate calmly, even though I was desperate to satisfy my hunger. Those strawberries were delicious and only made me more hungry.

Without caring about the glances from the three men there, I took the tray and sat down in the armchair, and started eating everything normally because I didn't want to see the smiles of those who kept me captive there. The view outside was pleasant and I couldn't deny it.

I saw some movement over their shoulders, and when I turned a little surprised and curious, I saw that only Mercier and I were there. Jones and the red-bearded man were no longer present.

An instant later, Mercier approached and stood next to the armchair, looking at the garden while I satisfied my hunger.

I felt that he wanted to talk to me and wasn't confident enough to do so, so with my mouth full of biscuits, I asked:

"What do you want?" I wasn't being nice, none of them had been with me.

He didn't respond. I didn't know if he was fluent in Spanish, because he had no accent.

"What do you want?"

"Just to welcome you to Armstrong Mansion, ma'am, and to let you know that..."

"Don't call me ma'am!" I argued. "I'm not married... I'm only 17 years old, but you obviously already know that!"

"And to let you know that Armstrong will meet with you soon," he said, ignoring everything I had said before.

I stood up, already a little impatient, and the tray with everything on it fell onto the black floor, where the half-full juice glass, as well as the empty cup, fell and broke.

"I don't want to meet Armstrong..." I stepped carefully around the shards. "I want you to let me go. I have a life, I have a family... tengo um padre!"

"Father?" he said mockingly and smiled dryly, which interrupted me. "Your dear father, Ms. D'Angelo, doesn't care about you!"

"That's not true! He will come looking for me, you... you..."

"Under different circumstances, maybe..." he interrupted me again, and I noticed tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "But in this case, that is impossible!"

"You're a liar, despicable..."

"And you're a bargaining chip!"

I froze...

My heart squeezed and my blood boiled even more...

What does he mean, a bargaining chip?

"What are you talking about?"

"Well... Armstrong has the duty to respond to you... I've already said too much," he said, completely malicious, and turned to leave. "I will send the cleaning lady to clean up the mess you made!" he referred to the shattered glass on the black floor.

Shattered glass? I thought and reacted immediately, without thinking about the consequences...

I grabbed one of the shards and ran towards him, who seemed distracted, and when I got close to piercing any part of his muscular body, he turned and stopped me with those big, strong hands, where I was completely trapped.

He quickly took the shard from me and pushed me, making me fall, and his ironic smile appeared again.

Armstrong will have a great task taming you!

Taming?

Mercier left, leaving me locked in there, alone, and without hope of ever being able to live my old life again.

A bargaining chip? Was I really a bargaining chip?

What did my father do?

I woke up from a nightmare, looked around, and realized that the nightmare was real. I was still in that bed, being monitored by security guards.

My life now was the complete opposite of what I had always desired for my destiny.

From a nightmare, I woke up, on what would be a great day, finally my eighteenth birthday had arrived, but unfortunately, I would not be able to do what I planned because I was rudely taken out of my life.

I opened my eyes that Sunday morning and shook off the laziness from my body, with a movement I did every day before getting up.

In the past few days, I stayed in that room, where only the security guards and the staff responsible for my meals could enter. I hadn't done anything, it was boring days, even though Mercier had told me that I could enjoy the other areas of the mansion, something I obviously refused, because it would be pointless to explore the places of that mansion in the company of two armed security guards.

As I got up, I felt something moving beside me and quickly turned around, and there I was faced with that pale and feminine face, totally perfect, sculpted by angels. I was paralyzed by her beauty.

She was a beautiful woman with black, straight hair, a slender face, and tempting lips. My heart palpitated at her sleeping form and her beauty.

But who could she be and why was she sleeping in the same bed as me?

I soon realized that it was just the two of us in the room. Jones and the bearded security guard, whom I later learned was called James, they were not there, only the two of us.

I didn't move so as not to wake that goddess, but something compelled me and I ended up lightly touching her black strands of hair, which I immediately knew were soft and silky. I touched them for a few more seconds, until she moved again.

I quickly pulled my hand away.

She was the first woman I had seen after a week and I breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn't the only one kidnapped, but she was so different, she didn't seem to fit the profile of the kidnappers.

Armstrong was the mastermind and he kidnapped her just like he did to me, that son of a bitch!

I decided to get up and head to the hot and foamy bathtub. I was enjoying all the comfort of that room and especially the closet full of beautiful dresses and clothes, most of which were black. I wasn't going to stop taking care of myself just because I was kidnapped, I was only going to take advantage of all those beautiful things.

When I touched the cold, black floor, a warm hand pulled me forcefully by the arm and I was thrown onto the bed, where the beautiful woman's body was on top of mine.

I stopped breathing, my senses confused, my heart started pounding, and all I could do was to look deeply into those dark blue eyes that were analyzing me from above. Those eyes were so enticing, everything about that woman was enticing.

I couldn't move, but I wasn't trapped, I just froze.

The woman moved on top of me and affectionately touched my face, making me feel important, as if she had known me for a long time.

Her hand moved away and slowly, I followed the approach of her lips as they descended towards mine, and before she could touch me, I reacted and pushed her away with all the strength I had, causing her to back off.

She was truly beautiful, enticing and tempting, but she had no right to touch me, not like that.

I moved away from her and she crawled towards me, grabbing hold of my ankle and pressing it against the already completely messed up mattress.

"Let go!" I said, trying to pull my foot from her grip and she just watched me as I tried to escape from her.

My day was already starting to get complicated, that stranger was out of control. I would scream to get the attention of the security guards if she didn't stop crossing the line.

She let go of me and quickly tied her black hair into a bun, where I could now see her face fully and completely.

Suddenly, she came towards me and I kicked her, delivering blows as she fought against my legs, and it continued like that and to my annoyance, I was completely trapped by her strength.

She was sitting on top of my waist, holding my wrists tightly and painfully. I couldn't fight or struggle against her, she was stronger, more agile, and more everything.

She locked her gaze onto mine and I could see a weak smile at the corner of her mouth, while my breathing was erratic and hers not so much.

She blinked, blinked, and blinked...

"Happy birthday," she released my wrists, "wife!"

Wife? Hell no!

Furious, I managed to twist my hips and pushed her onto the bed, where she ended up falling and groaning. She groaned strangely, seemed to be in pain.

I got up and ran desperately to the door, trying to escape, but when I tried to open it, I knew it was locked. Why did it have to be locked on that day?

I pounded on the door and called for Jones, as well as for James. There was a sadistic pervert saying absurd things.

I gave up knocking when I heard her voice again, the woman who had declared me her wife...

"James and Jones are outside, chiquita, but..." I felt her approach, "but they've been ordered to stay there as long as Armstrong wants!"

Armstrong, that bastard who never showed up!

"Then..." that word invaded my hearing, as did the warm hand of that woman, which slightly invaded my panties, "now," she pressed me against the door and kissed my bare shoulder, which my sexy blue spaghetti strap nightgown couldn't cover, "whether you want to or not, you will be mine!"

Yours? I will never be yours!

Her hand quickly went between my legs, and when I felt her touch my pussy, I grabbed her hand. It was my day, and neither she nor anyone else would spoil it, not even that perverted goddess.

"If you let me consume our marriage..." she spoke against my shoulder and I began to tremble, my heart having confused and nervous sensations, everything colliding at once.

I couldn't be feeling that, not for her. I felt that the first time I made love to my ex-girlfriend, she was the only one until that moment who had touched me.

"I'll give you a birthday present!"

"I don't want anything that comes from you, you despicable sadist!"

"Insult me as much as you want, but know that it only excites me!"

"You're a fucking perverted bitch!"

"A foul mouth like yours, I've never found in my entire life. I'll have to clean it for you," and she kissed my shoulder again, trying to move the hand I wouldn't let go of, "what do you say, wife?"

"I'm not your wife and I never will be!"

"You are my wife!"

"Never... you fucking..."

She covered my mouth with her other hand, suppressing the words in my throat, as well as the air in my lungs aggressively.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, do you hear me... you fucking adulterer!"

"Adulterer?"

"Shut your mouth!" she said and turned me around, grabbing me slightly by the hand and pulling me onto the bed, where she dragged me after I fell clumsily onto the black floor.

She pulled me and then threw me onto the bed, leaving me completely frightened by her violent way of treating me.

She paced back and forth, appearing pensive, with her breathing faltering.

Suddenly, she stopped and touched her abdomen for a moment. After the touch, an expression of pain took over her serious face.

What could be troubling her at that moment?

She stopped and turned completely towards me, looking at me fully, making her gaze obsessive and fierce.

"From today on, you will be Armstrong's wife!"

"I won't be anyone's wife... You're insane!"

"I am Armstrong!... Megan Armstrong!"

What?

For a week, I had been thinking Armstrong was a man.

Megan Armstrong, who called me her wife, no, I would never be the wife of a violent woman.

"And now you're my wife!"

"And you are already my wife!"

"I am not your wife and I will never let you touch me."

"If you don't play your role as a wife, your beloved father... dies."

"What do you mean?" I asked angrily as I stood up, getting closer to confront her face to face.

Megan Armstrong stopped me inches away from her as she grabbed my neck tightly. She strangled me and pushed me onto the bed, where I fell with her on top of me.

"Your lips are irresistible," she said, blowing against my lips.

"Do not dare to touch me!"

"I can do whatever I want with you!"

"I will kill you... you bitch!"

Megan smirked ironically and let go of my neck, but she continued to be on top of me, enveloping me in the smell of her perfume.

"After I fuck you hard, you will completely change your thoughts about me," she said and slowly slid her hand into my panties. "Don't resist or... it will be worse!"

"Don't do this... please..." I pleaded, already scared and tears forming in my eyes.

"Don't make requests!" she yelled, and I felt her getting closer to doing what she desired so much.

"I beg you, Megan... please stop?" I swallowed hard. "Don't do this, please?!"

Megan stopped, looking at me deeply and backed away, leaving me with tears streaming down my face.

She walked towards the door and knocked twice with her knuckles. The door opened and I saw Jones handing her a paper, to which she nodded and closed the door.

Megan approached me, looking at the paper and then at me, and I sat more comfortably on the bed.

That paper was a mystery and terror to me because it could have something written on it that would compromise me entirely.

She sat in the armchair, placing the paper on the table, and opened the curtains a bit.

We stayed silent for a few seconds, she didn't look at me during those seconds, and neither did I look at her.

"Stella?" she called me with an incredibly calm and gentle voice, which frightened me, actually. Everything about her until that moment scared me.

I looked up and saw her eyes fixed on me.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know everything about you."

"Impossible!"

"Totally possible... or do you think I would marry someone without fully investigating their life?"

"I don't think anything because I don't know you."

"Then come here... I'll show you why you're here and why you're my wife."

"I am comfortable here."

"Come now!" she ordered rudely, and I trembled.

Megan Armstrong was powerful.

I got up and approached, ignoring my fear of going towards a completely strange woman.

"This is a document signed by Pedro D'Angelo," she said, pointing to the paper. "And it states that in exchange for the casino debts not being paid by the present date, you... Stella D'Angelo would be offered as the debt payment."

"Impossible..." I despaired. "My father would never do that... he loves me."

"He loves you so much that he sold you for a hundred thousand dollars."

"This is all a lie..." tears streamed down my face again. "This is all a lie."

I didn't have the capacity or the strength to believe, it was impossible, totally impossible.

"If you don't believe... read the document and see your dear father's signature."

I took the document and hesitated for a moment to read the words on the paper. But I gave up when I saw that it was indeed my father's signature.

Now everything made sense.

I had been the perfect bargaining chip. Mercier was right. I was condemned.

"And in this same document, there is an important highlight," I ignored her, even though I knew she would continue speaking. "You have been my wife since D'Angelo signed this document."

I tore the document angrily, feeling tears overflowing.

"I mean... the original copy of this document, but since you were only 17, I decided to wait until you were of legal age."

I turned around and threw the torn papers at her, but she didn't move.

"So that's why you called me an adulteress?"

"Yes. But from today onwards... you will be my wife, and no one else will touch you besides me," she said, getting up.

I stepped away to one side of the room and she grabbed me by the waist.

I struggled in her arms and she let me go after moaning, as if she had once again felt the same pain.

"We'll talk later... wife!" she said.

"Don't call me that... you wretch!"

"And you will quench my desire... whether you like it or not."

"I will never let you have what you desire!"

"We'll see about that!" she mocked, and after calling out for Jones, she left the room, clutching her abdomen.

Document, marriage, debt payment, exchange of currency. I was sold and bought, and now I was married to a complete stranger, to a woman, to Megan Armstrong.