His Darkest Obsession (Haunted Kings #1)

JOANNA[Months earlier…]“Paula is your ex?!” I screech like a banshee. Kenneth, my boyfriend, who’s just returned from the bathroom, stares at me like he’s just seen a ghost. And apparently that ghost must have gotten his tongue too because all the words he’s trying to string together come out sounding like he’s just got a stroke. “Jo…I, uh—It’s…not—“My chest feels heavy, like an elephant has just sat on it. All that keeps running through my mind is You’re such a fool, Joanna! You’ve been fooled twice! Twice! Kenneth glances warily at the phone in my hand. It’s his phone. The one I’d just gone through while he was in the bathroom. I hate the way my hands are shaking as I keep scrolling through the texts he’d exchanged with his “best friend” just minutes ago. The weight on my chest becomes heavier with each line: Kenneth: you know i’ve always wanted it to be you, right? she’s lying here in my arms and all i can think about why we ever broke up. you were it for me. Paula❤️: LOL,

JOANNAFor two full weeks, I exist in a liminal space of heavy, dreamless sleep and waking numbness. I exist entirely in oversized sweatpants, watching the shadows shift across my bedroom ceiling while playing the last year of my life on a torturous loop. I try as much as I can to block out the world. I try not to look at social media, but I can’t help stalking Paula's Ins.tag.ram. I feel bitter envy as I scroll through the pretty selfies she’s posted, and I am very analytical in comparing her looks with mine. Maybe if I was thinner and had clearer skin, Ken wouldn’t have thought twice before setting those boundaries with her. I’m also ashamed to say this (and I can’t even let Ria know about it), but I unblocked him sometime ago, desperate to hear from him. He’s called and texted, but I haven’t picked up any calls or replied any of his texts. Am I crazy for unblocking my emotional cheater ex so I can feel better about myself whenever his name lights up my phone screen? Yeah, I

JOANNA “Ria, wait—" My voice comes out as a pathetic, dry rasp, completely lacking the strength to cut through the sudden spike of adrenaline in the air. Ria doesn't hear me. She steps directly into the stranger’s space, her small frame vibrating with a terrifying, protective fury. Her midnight-black hair practically crackles as she glares up at him, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Her shoulders squared like she’s ready to commit a felony on my behalf. God, I love her. “I said, what the fuck are you doing, stranger?” she demands. Only then does he take a step back. The movement creates space between us I’d barely realized he’d invaded. I suck in a steadier breath. He doesn’t look offended. Or intimidated. He simply turns to face Ria, one slow movement at a time, until I fully appreciate just how unfairly tall he is. Good Lord. He has at least half a foot on her. He raises both hands, palms open. A universal gesture of surrender. "I'm not touc

ROWAN Wealth attracts exactly three kinds of people. Those born into it, those who built it, and those desperately trying to be photographed beside it. Icarus has managed to gather all three under one roof tonight. From our glass-walled mezzanine in the VIP section, the entire spectacle looks less like a high-profile launch party and more like a beautifully curated zoo. Downstairs, a world-famous DJ is currently committing crimes against music, blasting bass so loud it vibrates through the leather of our booth. Influencers pose in front of the marble staircase as though they’d personally commissioned the architecture, nepo babies loudly discuss "investments" funded entirely by their parents' trust accounts, and models drift between tables wearing dresses worth more than the average Manhattan mortgage. Luca calls it networking. I call it overpopulation. “If you stare any harder at that railing, Thorne, you're going to burn a hole through the steel," a voice drawls in a