The Billionaire’s Dangerous Obsession

Friday Morning (Susan’s POV)

The morning sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my apartment, streaking across the beige carpet in golden lines. I squinted, turning over on the bed, and groaned as my phone buzzed relentlessly on the nightstand. It was already 7:42 a.m., and the world was pulling me back into the chaos I half-loved and half-feared.

“Ugh,” I muttered, stretching lazily. My apartment was small but warm, decorated with pastel tones and photographs of happier times—mostly me and Val, my best friend, laughing over coffee or grimacing at some terrible movie. That was my life: coffee, work, Val, and occasionally Mark.

I rolled over and grabbed my phone. Notifications lit the screen: emails from clients, reminders from work, and a string of missed calls from Mark. I sighed, feeling that familiar mix of love and irritation. He could be sweet, I admitted, in his teasing, careless way, but he also had a way of making me second-guess myself.

I flipped my hair over my shoulder and sat up, glancing at the messy sheets that I’d been clinging to too long. I wasn’t a morning person, but I wasn’t the type to waste time either. Work was waiting. My laptop hummed softly on the desk, stacked with documents, reminders, and spreadsheets. The past week was my week off, but work came to me rather than the other way around. Today’s Friday, and it feels like I’ve been going to work all week.

I spent the rest of the day over my laptop, baking myself pancakes and biscuits to keep my mind busy. I had a glass of red wine while I worked, trying to drown out the little voice in my head that kept whispering, When will he call? I kept checking my phone every few minutes, hoping that my boyfriend would call to spend Friday with me. But he didn’t.

Maybe he’s busy with either work or fun as he calls it, I thought to myself.

The day was going pretty well. I cleared enough work off my desk to offer myself a better Monday, even though that sounded ironic. I decided to take a break, changed into a soft lavender silk robe, and took a quick shower. I heard a slight knock at the door and wasn’t sure if I was excited or not, but I was sure it was Mark.

“You look…” he paused, pulling me close, “as you fell out of my dreams,” he continued as he entered the living room and slammed the door behind him.

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Are you sure you didn’t just steal that line from a movie?”

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Maybe. But I meant it.”

It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he looked at me, the way his hand lingered over my waist, brushing against my skin. It was addictive. I leaned into him, letting my hands trail down his chest. His warmth filled me, and I felt that rush—the one that always made me forget, for a while, the work, the stress, the real world.

We ended up on the sofa, tangled together. I kissed him slowly and lingeringly, and he responded in kind, hands roaming gently at first, then more urgently. It wasn’t just lust; it was comfort, familiarity, the kind of intimacy that made me feel alive.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against my neck.

“I know,” I replied softly, letting him guide the pace. “Me too.”

And then… we were lost in each other. Clothes were forgotten, kisses became gasps, and hands found every sensitive place. He made me feel like I was the only person in the world who mattered, like everything else could wait.

Later, as we lay together, breathing heavily, I traced my fingers along his chest. “Do you ever think about the future?” I asked, hesitant.

He chuckled softly. “Future? You know me, Sus. I live in the moment. Why ruin it with a plan?”

I frowned but didn’t push it. I had known that about him from the start. Mark wasn’t the type for grand promises, weddings, or family plans. He was fire—exciting, warm, bright—but fleeting.

That was love too, wasn’t it? Sometimes, it burned quickly and left ashes behind.

We slept for almost an hour, then I woke up with him gone, a note on the counter: Had an impromptu meeting. Call me later. My heart sank just a little. Not because I expected commitment, but because the warmth and intimacy had evaporated, leaving me cold and thinking, again, about what I wanted versus what I had.

I waited by the phone for what felt like hours, my chest tight with anticipation, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Mark would call to reassure me, to explain away the tension I had been feeling all day. This was a routine I thought I’d get used to, but it ate me up every single time.

When his name finally flashed across the screen, I felt a flutter of hope.

“Hey… Sus,” he said, his voice lighter than I expected, almost teasing, as if nothing was wrong.

“Mark,” I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Where have you been? You… you left in the morning, leaving just a note. You should have called after your meeting.”

There was a pause. Then, in the background, I heard a soft, sultry giggle. My stomach dropped.

“Uh… I’m… I’m with someone right now,” he admitted, not flustered at all. “Listen, Sus, don’t freak out. It’s not what you think.”

I froze, my hand gripping the phone so tightly it hurt. “With… who?” I asked, trying to keep calm, trying not to panic.

“I’m… I’m with Jenna,” he said, his tone casual. “She’s… well, nobody, just fun and nothing else, you know what I mean. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I was going to come over after this.”

I felt my heart twist in a way I hadn’t felt before—sharp and hot. My fingers trembled. “She’s… you’re with her… and you called me? You’re going to come over?”

Mark chuckled softly. “Yeah. Look, I just wanted to be honest. You know I love you, Sus. I really do. But I… I like to have fun, too. And Jenna—she’s… well, she’s fun. It’s nothing serious, okay? Just for the moment, we’ve spoken about this.”

I couldn’t breathe. “We’ve spoken about what, Mark. So… you’re cheating on me?” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“No, no, don’t say that,” he said quickly. “I’m still with you. You’re the one I care about. I’m telling you because I care about you. I’m still with you. I love you. She knows she’s not my girlfriend. You’re my girlfriend.”

I felt tears burn behind my eyes. Betrayal, heartbreak, confusion—they all crashed over me at once. The man I loved was confessing he was sharing himself with another woman—intentionally, casually, all while still claiming love for me.

“Mark… I…” I tried again, but my voice trembled. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”

He sighed. “I know… I know it’s complicated. But you love me, right?”

I wanted to scream. “I do! I did! I loved you!”

“I know,” he said, almost gently, almost soothingly, like a cruel lullaby. “And I love you too. That hasn’t changed. But love… sometimes… It’s not enough. You want stability. You want commitment. I… I want… everything. Love, yes—but fun too. Life’s too short to choose one.”

I felt a tear escape down my cheek. Then another. My hands shook as I clutched the phone like it was a lifeline, though it was only the instrument of my heartbreak.

“Please don’t show up at my house today, I need some time,” I said and hung up almost immediately.

The phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. I sat there for what felt like hours, shaking, sobbing, tears streaming down my face. Every happy memory, every soft touch, every laugh… tainted now. Betrayal burned hotter than love.