Dark Desires at Seaborn Summit
Morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Seaborn Summit, casting pale shadows across the cold marble floor. The mansion was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace in the master bedroom. In tapered navy trousers and a crisp, pearl-gray tee, Rafael Spencer stood by the window, perfectly at ease. He was watching the sea beneath the cliff on which the mansion stood. Elysia Sinclair was sitting on the edge of their bed, staring at the ground. The twins, Faye and Grace, now three and a half years old , were off for two days at a 'Young Explorers' minicamp just outside the city. It was filled with nature hikes, crafts, and science activities. Rafael had reviewed the program thoroughly, reassured by the director’s personal welcome and detailed plans. The house was now strikingly quiet—no cartoons, no little footsteps, just a rare, peaceful calm it hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Elysia,” Rafael began, not turning to face her, his tone restrained but steely “It’s been four years. When are you going to stop mourning him?”
She didn’t respond at first, only tightened her grip on the quilt. Her silence wasn’t new, but today, it felt heavier. Because today…well, today was no ordinary day. It was her anniversary with Jacob, her late husband, her high school sweetheart.
Rafael turned to face her then, his expression sharp with impatience. “You’re my wife now.”
Her almond-shaped, stormy blue eyes—slightly downturned at the edges—rose to meet his. They were cold and unyielding, like the frozen expanse of a winter sea: distant, uninviting, and impossible to read. “You think it’s that simple, Rafael? That I can just forget him because you want me to?”
His jaw tightened. “I’m not asking you to forget him, but you’re not with him anymore. You’re with me. And I’m sick of you acting like I’m some afterthought in my marriage.”
Elysia stood up abruptly, wrapping her robe tighter around her body, her entire body trembling with anger. “You don’t understand,” she hissed. “I didn’t marry you because I love you. I married you because I needed someone to protect Faye and Grace from Jacob’s family. That’s all this is.”
The truth struck. It hit him—Faye and Grace weren’t his by blood, sure, but somewhere along the way, they’d become his in every other way that mattered. He’d come to love them with a fierce, protective devotion that defied logic or circumstance. In the turbulence of his marriage to Elysia, with all its sharp peaks of passion and quiet valleys of resentment, his daughters had become his anchors.
Though frustration simmered inside him, Rafael kept his demeanour calm, his temper controlled but edged. “You say that, but I’ve given you everything, Elysia. I’ve stood by you when all you could see was his shadow.”
“And that’s the problem,” she replied, her voice trembling. “You’re not him. You’ll never be him.” Her voice softened unexpectedly on the last word, as if even she were surprised by the gentleness there.
Rafael’s expression darkened. Walking towards her, he grabbed her wrist, and pulled her close. He growled, “Today, you’ll do as I ask. Is that too much to expect from a wife?”
Elysia tried to pull her arm free, but his grip only tightened, his strength overpowering hers. “Let go of me!” She glared at him. “I am not your property, Rafael!”
But he didn’t let go. He looked unrelenting as he spoke, each word measured, calm, but with an undercurrent of steely authority. “You’ll do as I say. All day. Every order I give, you will follow. Or I’ll make you.”
Her whole body tensed, breaths quick and sharp. “I won’t,” she shot back defiantly. “You can’t make me.”
“Oh, I can,” Rafael murmured, his voice low and laced with confidence, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “And you’ll find out just how far I’m willing to go to secure your obedience today.” His hooded, deep brown eyes bore into hers with an intense and calculating gaze, holding her captive as though he already knew her answer— even before she spoke.
Anger twisted across Elysia’s face as she tried to yank her arm back, harder this time. “I won’t be controlled by you, Rafael. You can’t keep doing this.”
He finally released her wrist, stepping back, a silent challenge lingering between them. “Watch me,” he said coldly, his voice like ice. “Now get dressed. We’re having breakfast downstairs, and you will sit with me. I don’t want to hear another word of protest.”
Elysia stood there, her heart pounding in her chest, trying to steady herself. She was furious, humiliated, and yet… deep inside, she felt the familiar pull between them. She hated it, hated the power he had over her, but it was undeniable.
“I’m not your puppet,” she muttered, her words dripping with venom.
Rafael’s smile didn’t falter. “No, you’re not. But you are my wife, and today, you’ll act like it.”
She clenched her fists, wanting to hit him, wanting to scream, but she knew it would only fuel his need for control. So she turned on her heel, walking toward the wardrobe with as much dignity as she could muster.
“I’ll never give you what you want,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
Rafael watched her, his heart heavy, filled with a mixture of anger and something deeper—something darker. “Let’s see if you mean that.”
