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Chapter Thirty-Two.
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CEO'S WORSHIPED OBSESSION. Chapter Thirty-Eight.
Chapter Thirty-EightOlivia's POVI barely slept.Every time I closed my eyes, the letters replayed, his boyish handwriting bleeding into the sharp, possessive lines of his teenage self. You were mine before you knew it. The words throbbed in my head like a bruise I couldn’t stop pressing.When morning came, I drifted around the penthouse like a ghost, restless. I tried reading, tried scrolling through my phone, but nothing helped. Everywhere I turned, I felt him — Fabian, the boy who had turned himself into a storm just to be strong enough for me.My chest ached. My guilt swelled. But there was something else too, something I didn’t want to name, a pull, a dangerous heat that came from knowing how completely I was claimed.I ended up in his closet without meaning to, I was looking for a favourite shirt of mine.His world was always so sharply organized, rows of pressed suits, crisp shirts, dark colors and clean lines. The scent of him clung to the fabric, leather and spice and someth
CEO'S WORSHIPED OBSESSION. Chapter Thirty-seven.
Chapter Thirty-SevenOlivia's POVHow did I get here again?How did I find them?If anyone asked, I would swear I wasn’t snooping.Okay, maybe I was, but not exactly in a creepy way.The truth was, Fabian had left me alone in his study that morning with nothing but the soft hum of the AC and the faint leather scent of his shelves to keep me company.He had gone to a meeting, some high stakes negotiation he tossed off like it was Tuesday morning coffee, and I had been left sitting at his massive oak desk, twirling the pen he’d left behind, restless.That was when I noticed the drawer. The bottom one, the only one without a neat label, the only one that didn’t slide open with a crisp, oiled ease.It was stuck, which, of course, made it more tempting.I told myself I was just curious, just passing time, just… Olivia Wilde being nosy. But when the drawer finally gave, sliding open with a reluctant creak, I found a small wooden box tucked inside, plain, unassuming, locked with a flimsy cla
CEO'S WORSHIPED OBSESSION. Chapter Thirty-Six.
Chapter Thirty-SixOlivia’s POVThe thing about me is, I’m not domestic.Never have been, probably never will be. I can juggle meetings, negotiate stubborn vendors, even stand toe-to-toe with Fabian when he’s in one of his moods, but put me in front of a stove and suddenly the world tilts on its axis.I think this is already something obvious, when I can't even make a toast without burning it.Still, tonight was different.I wanted to try.Not because I suddenly discovered a secret passion for sautéing or because Pinterest decided to bless me with a recipe that looked foolproof. No. This was about proving something–to him, to myself. That I wasn’t just the mess he teased me about, the girl who couldn’t keep a plant alive, who could make toast without burning it, who ordered takeout because boiling pasta felt like climbing Everest.I wanted to show Fabian Stone that I could care for him in a way that wasn’t transactional, wasn’t polished, wasn’t for show. Something small, something p
CEO'S WORSHIPED OBSESSION. Chapter Thirty-Five.
Chapter Thirty-FiveOlivia's POVCorporate events were supposed to be predictable.A ballroom, glasses of champagne, people in sharp suits and sequined dresses, conversations full of numbers wrapped in polite laughter. I knew the drill by now, hover near Fabian, smile when needed, stay invisible when not.But tonight felt different. Tonight, I was the one catching attention.He found me first, Ethan Marlowe, CEO of a rival company whose name carried weight in every financial paper.Tall, handsome in a calculated way, with a smile that promised he never heard the word no. His eyes locked on me like I was the only person in the room worth his time.And instead of looking away, I held his gaze.“Olivia Wilde,” he said smoothly, his voice low, practiced charm dripping from every syllable, I wanted to correct him, to tell him I was now a Stone, but I didn't.“I’ve heard so much about you. Fabian keeps you very close, doesn’t he? Media says you have a thing.”The implication was obvious. My
CEO'S WORSHIPED OBSESSION. Chapter Thirty-Four.
Chapter Thirty-fourOlivia’s POVWhen Fabian told me, so casually, like it was nothing, that his mother had invited us to dinner, my first instinct was to invent an excuse. A meeting, a deadline, a migraine, anything. Facing Fabian in the office every day was already hard enough, but facing his mother?The woman who once trusted me to take care of her little boy when she ran errands, who knew me before life twisted everything sideways?That was a different kind of cruelty.If I’m being honest, I almost didn’t go.But Fabian didn’t give me a choice. He had just looked at me, one brow raised, like he could already hear the excuses I hadn’t spoken yet, and said, “She’ll be disappointed if you don’t come.”And that was that.So here I was, standing in front of the sprawling Stone estate, my palms damp, my heart stuttering like a nervous teenager. The Stone estate hadn’t changed much.Same ivy curling up the walls, same heavy oak doors, same glow from the tall windows spilling onto the g
CEO'S WORSHIPED OBSESSION. Chapter Thirty-Three.
Chapter Thirty-ThreeOlivia’s POVThe ballroom looked like something out of a movie I didn’t belong in. Gilded walls, chandeliers dripping with crystals, waiters gliding between clusters of people with trays of champagne like they’d rehearsed the choreography, everyone sparkled. Everyone’s laughter felt just a little too loud, their words sharpened with a kind of confidence I didn’t have.And then there was Fabian.He stood at the center of it all as if the entire event revolved around him. Which, in a way, it did. This was his victory, another company bent to his will, another trophy added to his collection. He looked untouchable in a tailored black suit, cufflinks glinting under the chandelier light, his posture saying, I own this room.I hovered half a step behind him, clutching my glass of champagne but not drinking from it, because my hands needed something to do. I told myself I was here as his assistant, not as his wife. I came here to observe, maybe take mental notes about w
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