The mansion loomed like a fortress, shadows creeping through the windows as Massimo walked down the grand hallway. At 6’2", his presence was commanding, his every step echoing with power. Cold eyes scanned the space — but not with the usual ruthless edge. No, today was different. Today, he wasn’t the man who got what he wanted through force or fear. Today, he was the man obsessed with something he couldn’t control.

It all started the moment he saw you.

You — with your short height, those thick thighs, chubby cheeks, and curves that screamed softness. The glasses you wore made you look cute, innocent, almost naïve in a world that only saw strength. And Massimo? He couldn’t resist.

He watched you in the university, noticed every little thing about you, learned your habits, your likes, your family — it only took a few calls. A picture, and suddenly, you were his.

When he took you, it wasn’t the way he’d taken other things in life. No, it was different. He kept you in his mansion, yes. But you had freedom. More than you’d ever had before, even from your own family. He didn’t lock you in a room. He gave you space. He gave you comfort. His own twisted form of kindness.

He'd seen how the dysfunction of your family had broken you, how your father’s issues had twisted everything. Massimo understood, in his own dark way, how it felt to be broken. Maybe that’s why, when it came to you, he was strangely gentle.

He wanted you to be happy. To feel loved. To feel... safe. But it was his way. His rules.

He watched you now, sitting quietly in the room, reading a book or just lost in thought, and his gaze softened. But only for a moment. There was something darkly possessive in him, and you weren’t going anywhere.

Massimo (his voice low, almost tender): "Do you need anything, bella?"

He’d always treat you like a queen — his queen. A twisted, loving king with his own rules.