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CEO'S WORSHIPED OBSESSION.

CEO'S WORSHIPED OBSESSION.

Romance
last updateTerakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-01
Oleh:  Princess AdenusiOngoing
Bahasa: English
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Sinopsis

Dark Romance

First-Person POV

Steamy

CEO

Secretary

Possessive

First Love

Forbidden Love

Office Relationship

She was his first light. He became her greatest shadow. She babysat him. And he fell in love. Years ago, 19 years old Olivia Wilde left behind a child, who loved her in silence, now she works for the man he's become. Fabian Stone is young, ruthless, unreadable and far too powerful. But buried beneath the cold exterior, is the same soul that once sketched her heart on torn paper and whispered promises he never got to keep. She shouldn't want him. He shouldn't still burn for her. But the past doesn't forget, and neither does he. ~~~ "Strip Olivia" he said, his voice dripping of command. I immediately obeyed, like I was programmed to follow all his instructions. My hand reached for my top and I slowly took it off staring him in the eyes. Next was my pants, then my bra, my breasts spilling from their confinement and I rubbed them, playing with my already hard nipples. His eyes were clouded with lust and something else I couldn't read. My hand reach for my panties, slowly taking it off, then tossing it where my other pile of clothing laid. I sat on the desk, legs spread, giving him a show of my already wet cunt. I heard him groan, a hot and sexy groan and I smirked, already proud of myself. I fingered myself, imagining it to be his long, thick hands, I close my eyes, reeling in the moment when his voice dripping command boomed, "Don't cum without me telling you to"

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40 Bab
Chapter One
Chapter OneOlivia’s POVIf I’d known tripping into the most powerful man in Manhattan’s office would be the least embarrassing part of my day, I might have worn flats. Or maybe prayed harder. Or not worn the silk blouse that was now soaked through with coffee and shame.The elevator dinged.Too late.The floor stretched out before me like a runway for corporate models. I stepped out, my stiletto heels sharp, spine pretending to be steel. In my hand: a leather folder clutched like a shield. Inside: my carefully doctored résumé, threaded with just enough reality to be defensible and enough fiction to be dangerous.I didn’t have a choice.Three weeks late on rent. Credit cards in cardiac arrest. Mom’s constant calling and demanding for money like it grows on trees. And me—Olivia Wilde, former drama student, failed actress, sometime bartender, recent dog-walker, and full-time disappointment—walking into a job interview at Stone International like I had any right to be there, maybe bec
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Chapter Two.
Chapter TwoOlivia’s POVI walked into Stone International with the kind of tight smile you wear at a family reunion where everyone knows your secrets but pretends to ask how you’ve been. My heels clicked across the marble floors like an apology. The building was sleek, heartless, colder than yesterday. Or maybe that was just me, bleeding quiet panic behind red lipstick and the illusion of composure. This was just my third day of working here.Everything felt louder today. The silence in the elevator. The stares from organized assistants who hadn’t fumbled their way into this world. The weight of my fake résumé, tucked neatly in the file cabinet beside my desk like a loaded gun.I settled behind the screen, breathing through the storm inside my chest.Then the door opened.Fabian.Hair perfect. Cufflinks gleaming. That usual precision about him—like he belonged in a world I could never afford to glimpse. Ugh. This man.The world didn’t just bend around him. It paused.His eyes found
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Chapter Three.
Chapter ThreeOlivia’s POVFabian as a kid would always draw me hearts.Not the kind you'd hang on Valentine's Day cards or scribble next to a name in a diary. No. These were crooked, childlike things. Jagged around the edges, ink too dark in some places and too faint in others. The kind only a kid with undersized hands.And I had kept none of them.Or at least, I thought I hadn't.Until today.It was my fourth hour into day five of pretending not to notice Fabian Stone watching me like I was his next acquisition, his next business deal.Not a person. Not a woman. A memory in motion.And I was failing, miserably.The framed heart sat on the edge of his glass desk, leaned just slightly, as though it belonged but still dared anyone to question it. My eyes skimmed it during a meeting he dragged me into about the Westview merger, another useless display of his power and calculated brilliance, that made me want to doubt myself again.The sketch was small. Tucked beside a marble pen holder
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Chapter Four.
Chapter FourOlivia’s POVThere’s a particular shame that coils tight in your chest when you realize the only reason you’re still at the office at 11:07 PM is because you screwed up. Not just a typo or a misfiled document, no, this was a full blown, cross wired, chaotic-tornado-of-my-own-making kind of disaster.And I had to send it to Fabian. Of course.I sat at my desk, the glare of the monitor stinging my tired eyes, the silence of the entire floor wrapping around me like an accusation. I had gone through the file three, four times. And still missed it.He hadn’t responded yet, not even a single sarcastic reply or that clipped, elegant yet annoying ‘Noted’. that felt like a dagger straight to the spine.I was sweating. Literal sweat. Under the arms, down the back, right where my silk blouse clung in all the wrong ways. And the worst part? I didn’t know if I was more afraid of the mistake itself… or the way he would look at me when he walked out of his private office and saw it.
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Chapter Five.
Olivia’s POVThe morning began with sunlight that mocked me.Too bright. Too golden. Too undeserved.The day started with three things, coffee gone cold, a missing pair of heels, and my reflection mocking me in the mirror with that subtle arch of a brow that always seemed to whisper, "You're not fooling anyone.”I was twenty minutes late, my blouse was wrinkled, and there was a distinct possibility I had left Fabian Stone’s penthouse keys somewhere between my car and the seventh circle of hell. I had torn through my handbag three times, muttering prayers and curses beneath my breath. But,They were nowhere.They were the kind of keys that didn’t just unlock things, they meant things. Responsibility. Trust. Territory. Power.And I had lost them.By the time I stepped into the office, I was already trembling beneath my blazer. The weight of the day came crashing in. The receptionist looked up, her smile faltering. I could only nod stiffly, afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would con
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Chapter Six.
Chapter Six.Olivia's POVBy the time the clock hit 7:43 p.m., the office was so quiet I could hear the hum of the espresso machine settling in the breakroom.The city vibrated below us, glowing, like the world kept going without us—and for once, I didn’t mind being left behind.My computer screen glowed in front of me, an unreasonable number of tabs open. I was trying to write a recap email of a meeting I had only half absorbed, but my thoughts kept drifting. To deadlines. To missed opportunities. To the way Fabian had looked at me this morning when I had dropped my pen.He had stared.Not glared. Not looked.Stared, like he was reading the lines of a contract he thought he had lost.I sat back, pinching the bridge of my nose, when I smelled it, basil, warm dough and melted cheese. My stomach growled in disapproval. I had not eaten since noon. I stood slowly, stretching, the kind of stretch that feels like you will lose all sanity the next minute.The smell was stronger when I opened
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Chapter Seven.
Chapter SevenOlivia’s POVThe night shimmered with the kind of sharp, glossy elegance I usually only witnessed from a distance. The event that had something to do with hedge funds and humanitarianism—was held at a private rooftop ballroom, the kind where the champagne never stopped flowing and the air smelled like money and rich people.I didn't want to attend, but I did anyways.I wore a black dress.The dress was sleek, backless, and borrowed. My heels were taller than any rational person would choose for a night of mingling with rich people also known as wolves. But Fabian had asked me to be there. He had said it like a request, but it felt like something more. Like a chain pulled tight between us.And I had said yes.The ballroom sparkled. Strings of lights glowed gold overhead, and the sound of a live quartet floated through the space, polished and perfect. I scanned the room, my stomach tightening. Everyone looked like they belonged. Crisp tuxedos, designer gowns, measured laug
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Chapter Eight.
Chapter Eight Olivia’s POVThe bar’s a total shithole, all sticky floors and neon signs flickering like they’re begging to die. I’m three tequilas deep, maybe four, I lost count after the second one burned my throat—and the world’s got this fuzzy, glittery edge, like someone smeared Vaseline on my eyeballs.The thing about tequila is it doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t care that your heart won’t stop tripping over itself every time you replay the words You’re mine. Tequila doesn’t judge. It doesn’t care about how you spent last night pressed against an elevator wall with your boss breathing fire into your skin.My girls—Blair, Sam, and Tara, are screaming over the music, some cheesy pop song about love and heartbreak blasting so loud it rattles my bones. I’m laughing, doubled over, my sides aching, but it’s not just the tequila. It’s the freedom, the chaos, the feeling of being me for once, not the screwed up personal assistant to Fabian freaking Stone. Except, of course, my brai
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Chapter Nine.
Chapter NineOlivia's POVI sat at my desk in Fabian’s stupidly perfect office, my head pounding from last night’s tequila binge, when I found it. My hands shook, not just from the hangover but from the ghost of his eyes, which I swore I felt even though he wasn’t there. I was flipping through a stack of papers, pretending to sort his schedule, when my fingers brushed something soft, worn, tucked in a drawer I had no business snooping in. A folded piece of paper, yellowed at the edges, with my name scrawled in a kid’s shaky handwriting. Olivia. My heart lurched, like it knew what was coming before I did.I unfolded it, my breath catching, and there it was, a letter from Fabian, from when he was thirteen and I was nineteen, his babysitter, his whole damn world. “Dear Liv,” it started, the words wobbly, like he had pressed too hard with his crayon. “You’re my favorite person. I love you. Don’t ever leave. Love, Fabian.” A lopsided red heart sat at the bottom, uneven and smudged,
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Chapter Ten.
Chapter TenOlivia’s POVI stood in front of the mirror in my tiny apartment, tugging at the black dress Tara had lent me, feeling like a fraud. The fabric clung to my hips, too tight, too fancy, and I'm sure I would rip it if I breath in a wrong way. My hair was a mess, half curled, half frizzy, and my makeup was smudged because I had poked myself in the eye with the mascara wand. I looked like a cat playing dress up, and I was supposed to go to a gala with Fabian Stone, billionaire extraordinaire, my boss slash the kid I babysat. My stomach churned, and I wasn’t sure if it was the cheap wine I had chugged down earlier for courage or the fact that I was about to step into his world again, a world of champagne and chandeliers, where I would feel lost and unwanted and probably trip and break something expensive.I grabbed my phone, my fingers hovering over Fabian’s number, tempted to text him and bail. ‘Sorry, suddenly caught the flu, can’t make it.’But I didn’t, because I had seen
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