Chapter 4 I feel an inexplicable attraction

The air was dense, almost heavy, when Vittorio entered the room that morning. The light streaming through the window clung to his skin-golden and perfect-and to his eyes, which seemed to hold secrets no one else could understand.

I felt my breath quicken for no reason, a drum pounding hard in my chest, as if my body was trying to warn me that I couldn't trust this man for another second. And yet, when his hand brushed my arm as he passed, an electric current shot through me, disarming me completely.

It was an inexplicable attraction. An invisible, dangerous magnet that pulled me toward him despite the fear.

"Good morning," he said in a low, husky voice, as if speaking only to me. "Did you sleep well?"

I swallowed, tasting something bitter in my mouth-a mix of nerves and repressed desire.

"Not very well," I replied, trying to sound firm. "And you?"

He smiled, a slow curve that never reached his eyes. He sat beside me on the edge of the bed and took my hand. He didn't ask more. He didn't insist. He just looked at me, deep and unflinching, as if he could read my darkest thoughts.

In that instant, I remembered a similar morning, years ago, before all this. I was on the terrace of an apartment downtown, the sun caressing my skin, and Vittorio looking at me with that same intensity. But back then, I wasn't afraid. Back then, there were only promises and a future that seemed possible.

But that memory was fragile. Like shattered glass. My mind was still fragmented, with gaps impossible to fill.

"Do you want to go out today?" Vittorio asked, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.

I stayed silent. The thought of going out, of stepping into the street, of facing the outside world, froze me. But at the same time, I felt it was exactly what I needed. I needed air. I needed to break through the walls that had imprisoned me.

"All right," I said finally. "But just for a little while."

His smile widened, and I could see that mix of affection and possession that infuriated me and aroused me at the same time.

We went out into the garden he always spoke about. A paradise of deep greens and exotic flowers that reminded me of an Impressionist painting. The scent of jasmine and damp earth enveloped me, but instead of peace, I felt nausea-something rising from my stomach and lodging in my throat.

Vittorio walked beside me, controlling every step, every movement. I felt watched, judged, trapped in a cage he held with an invisible hand.

But at the same time, I felt his warmth, his presence like a coat in a cruel winter.

I stopped beside a rose bush. Its petals, red and almost black, seemed to bleed under the sunlight. I reached out and accidentally brushed against a thorn. A sharp sting pierced me, and the pain made me tremble.

Vittorio came quickly, took my hand, and kissed it. His mouth was cold, but his gaze was warm.

"You're fragile," he whispered. "But stronger than you think."

My heart sped up. That moment, that unexpected tenderness, made me doubt everything. Was it possible that he truly wanted to protect me? Or was it just another form of control?

As we walked, my thoughts drifted into a flashback.

I was in a small café, the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Vittorio sat across from me, his warm smile, his hand holding mine.

"Never let them break you," he had told me. "You're stronger than all of them."

Then, a scream. The sound of glass shattering. The sensation of someone tearing me away from his side.

I woke up that cold morning, sweaty, my heart racing.

We returned to the house, and Vittorio led me to the library. A dark place, full of old books and dust suspended in the beams of light.

I sat in a leather armchair. He stood behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders.

"You used to sit here and read," he said softly. "Sometimes you'd fall asleep between the pages."

A shiver ran down my spine. Was this a true memory, or just a fabrication of what he wanted me to believe?

"I want you to remember," he whispered, lowering his voice. "I need you to remember."

I turned to look at him, and in his eyes, I found a mix of need and desperation.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because without memory, there's no future. And without a future, there's no us."

Sweat beaded on my forehead. My breathing grew shallow. I didn't know if it was fear or desire-or that infernal mix of both.

Later, while Vittorio made coffee, I stayed alone in the room, scanning the walls. I felt something watching me from the darkness. A dull, lingering fear.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. The woman I saw was not the same as before. Her eyes were dim, her skin pale, but deep within her gaze there was a spark. A small, trembling flame.

Who was that woman? The one fighting to break free?

Then, a sound. Footsteps. Vittorio was back at the door.

"Still here?" he asked.

I nodded.

He came in and closed the door behind him.

He approached slowly, and I felt that inexplicable attraction-that dangerous blend of fear and tenderness.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I'm here."

And, for the first time, I didn't know if it was a threat or a promise.

The distance between us vanished in a single breath, as if time compressed until it no longer existed. I felt his warm breath against my skin, the heat of his body wrapping around me. The air grew heavy, almost unbreathable, and each beat of my heart seemed to echo in my ears.

I wanted to pull away, to run, but my body wouldn't respond. It was as if I were caught in an invisible net, woven from desire and fear.

Then his hand slid slowly down my arm, leaving me trembling. I closed my eyes, trying to cling to something solid, to a memory that wouldn't abandon me-but instead came a wave of nausea and a metallic taste flooding my mouth.

When I opened them, Vittorio was even closer, so close I could count each of his eyelashes.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said in a rough voice. "I just want you to let me help you."

But his words couldn't calm the storm raging inside me. Part of me wanted to believe him-needed to believe that behind this controlling, ambiguous man was someone capable of love.

The other part screamed for me to run, to never trust, to know that it was all a trap.

In an instant, the room seemed to spin, and I found myself back in that blurry moment that sometimes slipped into my thoughts.

I was sitting on the floor of a dark room, my body trembling with cold and fear. Vittorio was there, his hands firm yet gentle, wrapping me in a blanket. His eyes reflected a mix of anguish and tenderness.

"You have to fight," he told me. "You can't let fear defeat you."

But all I could do was cry, feeling as if I were drowning in an ocean of despair.

I snapped back to reality when Vittorio took my face in his hands and forced me to look at him.

"Catalina," he whispered, "I'm not asking you to forget. Just to trust me."

Tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them. Guilt, desire, fear, and hope swirled in an unstoppable storm.

"Why did you leave me alone?" I asked, my voice breaking.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, I saw a flicker of vulnerability.

"Because I'm trapped too," he replied. "Because I don't know how to save us without destroying us."

The weight of his words fell on me like a slab of stone, crushing any certainty I had left.

Hours passed, and the tension between us grew, like a fire threatening to consume everything.

Every touch, every sigh, every unsaid word was a minefield of emotions no one dared to step on.

At one point, Vittorio led me to the window and showed me the sea stretching beyond the house, an endless and promising horizon.

"One day, we'll go far away," he said. "Somewhere no one can find us."

The image of that escape filled me with a desperate hope, but at the same time reminded me of the invisible cage that still held me prisoner.

That night, as I lay in bed, my skin tingling with the mix of desire and fear, I remembered the last time I'd felt something like this.

It was at a party, long ago. Vittorio and I were surrounded by people, but only the two of us existed. His hands on my waist, his lips brushing my ear, his whispered promises between laughter and shadows.

But then came the abandonment. The betrayal.

I woke up sweating, my heart clenched in a fist.

The sound of the door opening made me jump. Vittorio entered with a glass of wine, his eyes gleaming with an unmistakable fire.

"Want some?" he asked, holding out the glass.

I shook my head, but my hand trembled.

He came closer, and his lips touched my neck in a brief kiss that set my skin ablaze.

"You don't have to decide anything now," he whispered. "Just let yourself feel."

The blend of dangerous tenderness and desire disarmed me, and for a moment I forgot the fear.

But then, in his eyes, I saw a flicker I couldn't interpret.

Was it love? Or control?

The following days became a constant sway between light and darkness.

Vittorio showed his protective side, but also the controlling man who kept me walking a tightrope.

I wavered between attraction and repulsion, between longing and mistrust.

Every fragmented memory, every painful flashback, deepened the confusion.

One afternoon, while Vittorio helped me walk through the garden, my hand brushed against his, and I felt a jolt of electricity.

I stopped, looking into his eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked in barely more than a whisper.

He smiled, a sad smile.

"Because you're mine, Catalina. Even if you don't want to admit it."

Fear paralyzed me, but so did the desire to break those invisible chains.

Night fell, and with it came a heavy silence that seeped through the walls.

I was alone in the room when I heard a strange sound. My heart in my throat, I got up and walked to the door.

Through the glass, I saw Vittorio talking to someone on the phone, his voice tense and low.

My instincts screamed that something was wrong.

Suddenly, the call ended, and he looked at me through the glass, his expression unreadable.

"Don't worry about that," he said. "It's nothing."

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was being hidden-something that could destroy us both.

That same night, as I lay in bed, a thought settled in my mind.

Was it possible to love someone who was also dangerous?

Could my heart survive that constant struggle between desire and fear?

My eyelids began to close, and just as I surrendered to sleep, I heard footsteps in the hallway.

The door creaked open slowly, letting in a shadow I didn't recognize.

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

"Who's there?" I asked, my voice trembling.

The shadow vanished, and silence returned.

But I was no longer sure of anything.

Not even of myself.

As I curled up in bed, I felt something had changed forever.

And I knew that, even if I wanted to, I could never escape this maze of desire, fear, and secrets.

Because, in the end, the truth always finds its way.

And mine was about to come to light.