The other part is fucking livid, and that’s the part I’ve been focusing on the past few weeks.

While I’ve been recovering from the torture, I made a few business decisions back in Italy and left De Marco in charge of the lands.

Enzo, Angelo and I are staying here now. It’s pointless to draw the enemy back to Sicily when we can get him on his own fucking ground.

Now that we have Stephan on the inside, a new plan is forming.

And yes, part of the reason why I’m here is because of her, Georgina, my little Petal. My fucked up obsession.

Only is it just an obsession anymore? I’m starting to think it’s morphing into something more than that, something potent and out of fucking control.

I haven’t stepped into the bedroom in Sicily because it reminds me so much of her. The thought of walking in that house, not hearing her singing or talking to her damn cats makes me fucking depressed.

So I went back to my old habits, watching from afar.

Now that she’s with Paolo, I can’t unleash my full stalker mode — considering he’s become more religious about security, but I catch glimpses of her when she goes out.

A pampered mafia princess.

Paolo has unleashed his doting father role on her, making her the princess of his little mansion.

She’s enjoying it, too, or maybe she’s enjoying the fact she’s with her father. There’s a spark in her gray eyes whenever she looks at him, not to mention that she hugs him every chance she gets.

My little Petal always needed affection. Even when she was Joseph, she would snuggle to my side and hug my arm, my waist, or even my leg. Anywhere was fine as long as she had human contact.

Over the years, she smothered that part of her, but now that she found her family, the longing is slowly peeking out.

I try not to feel bitter about the fact that I somehow, in my fucked up fantasies, wished that I’d be the one who’d provide that for her.

Enzo and Angelo have been trying to stop me from taking the next step, but fuck them and fuck her if she thinks she can get rid of me this easily.

No matter how good Paolo’s security is, there are also small openings that you can’t control that well; like drunk guards.

All the time I’ve been watching, I caught one of Paolo’s men drinking during his night shift and because of that, he has to take pauses to piss. They’re one of the rarest moments I’ll have to go inside.

I spend most of the night by the corner of a house across the street in my car. Through my binoculars, I see my little Petal on her balcony, petting her fat orange cat and going through something on her laptop.

She couldn’t be watching porn or she’d have her headphones on.

She’s wearing a robe, her hair tied back, and she’s without makeup, but she couldn’t look any more beautiful.

My little breakable Petal.

Soon enough, she disappears inside and her lights go off.

Sleep while you can, my pet.

It takes me another hour of patiently waiting until the guard takes his first pissing pause.

My ribs still ache from the torture session, but I grit my teeth and stalk over the wall in the camera’s blind spot.

I’ve been watching this place so religiously; I know every hole and every camera’s position.

After one last sweep of my surroundings, I climb the wall until I reach my little Petal’s balcony.

Mrs. Hudson winks at me from her sleeping position on the laptop. I swear all that cat ever does is sleep. Mr. Bingly mewls, standing by the glass doors and I place a finger in front of my mouth.

He ignores me wiggling his tail left and right. I lock them both out but leave the blinds open, allowing the moonlight to bathe the room in a silver hue.

I stalk toward the bed, kicking off my shoes and yanking down my pants and my boxer briefs.

My little Petal is splayed on her back, the duvet stopping at her middle. Her nightgown is thin and hints at her hardened nipples.

For a moment, I stand there, ignoring my hard dick and the need to fuck her until she screams the whole damn place down.

I watch her, the soft curves of her face, the steady rise and fall of her chest, and allow myself to get my fill of her. And the collar. She hasn’t removed the collar from her neck.

All these weeks, I’ve been roaming along the earth, plotting and scheming and watching from afar. Always from fucking afar.

The fact I haven’t touch her in fucking weeks has turned me into this grumpy fucker who snaps at anyone and anything — more than before.

I yank off my jacket and shirt, remaining naked, and slowly remove the duvet, leaving her completely at my viewing pleasure. I crawl atop of her slowly not to alert her and plant both my knees on either side of her.

“Wake up, Pet, time for another fantasy.” I wrap a hand around her throat and squeeze so hard, she wakes up with a start.

For a moment, she’s frozen in place, staring up at me with wild eyes and mouth agape.

Then, slowly, too slowly, a light sparks in her gray gaze, something like relief.

Wait. Something like...relief?

She’s relieved to see me?

“Jasper?” She chokes.

“The one and only, Pet. Did you really think you’d get rid of me?”

Her nails dig into my arms as she tries to fight me off, but it’s useless. She’s already at my complete control.

“You ran away from me, but you can never escape me, Pet.”

“Jas…” She claws at my skin, and I know I’m squeezing hard, hard enough to leave prints for later, and that’s why I’m doing it.

Another part is the fact she wanted to go, to leave me, to never see my fucking face again, while I was being tortured.

She left me when all I did was fight for our lives together.

Still choking her, I yank her nightgown up, ripping the sorry excuse of cloth in the process. She moans when my hand makes contact with her bare cunt.

“No panties you filthy little slut.” I hum, thrusting two fingers inside her. “You’re going to live the fantasy of being raped by an intruder, Pet. I’m going to fuck you so hard; you won’t be able to move properly tomorrow.”

Her eyes water, but she moans again and again as I finger fuck her until she’s gasping for air.

I don’t waste time on foreplay. When I feel her close, I remove my fingers, soaking in her disappointed mewl.

I loosen my hold from around her neck, just the slightest bit. “You want me to continue?”

“Jasper…”

“Do. You?”

“Y-yes.”

I position my dick at her entrance but don’t enter her. I rip her nightgown’s strap, revealing her tightened nipples and pinch them hard.

“Oh, Jasper, please...please…”

“Please what?”

“Please…” her face reddens when I squeeze again. “Fuck me.”

Usually, that would be it. Usually, I would be fucking her, spanking her, making our worlds come apart, but she made a mistake.

She left.

She fucking left.

“You think you can leave and I’ll fuck you as if nothing happened?” I slap her cunt and she shrieks before muffling the sound in the pillow.

“You took me captive. You didn’t let me visit my father, what did you expect, damn you?”

For you to stay.

But I don’t say that and slap her wet cunt again. She hides a muffled groan. “Please, Jas…”