All Chapters of MY CEO, MY OBSESSION : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

170 Chapters

SHATTERED BEGINNING

The sound of my name cracked through the office like a whip.“Elena Torres!”Dozens of heads turned toward me. Fingers paused mid-typing, whispers rippled through the cubicles like a low current of electricity. My stomach tightened as I rose from my chair, dread pressing against my commitment. I clutched the file in my hands so tightly the edges bent.Mr. Lawson’s glass office sat at the far end of the room, elevated like a question, and he didn’t wait for me to reach the door before his voice cut through the chatter again.“Do you have any idea how much you’ve cost this company?”I froze halfway across the floor. My colleagues pretended to work, but I could sense their eyes on me. “M—my checkbook—I—I corrected the numbers, sir,” I said softly, forcing the words through a tightened throat.He leaned back in his leather chair, sneering. Corrected? You mean ruined. He tossed the folder across the desk; papers scattered at my feet like fallen birds. Do you think anyone will take this depa

DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

The notice came written in white, cruel, clean, and final.“Eviction Notice.”The words screamed louder than any slap could. My rent was two months late, and Mrs. Jenkins, my landlady, had finally run out of sympathy. The paper trembled in my hand as if mocking my last thread of stability.I sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the cracked wall. I’d already sold jewelry, skipped meals, and begged every contact I had for a job. Nothing.Now, I couldn’t even afford a roof.Clara’s laughter echoed faintly from the other room, soft and innocent. She was on a call with her friend, probably talking about school. She didn’t know that the power bill on the table would cut our lights tomorrow. I’d hidden it under a magazine like guilt.I pressed the eviction notice to my chest, trying to breathe. My reflection in the mirror caught my—again, the same tired face, the same hollow eyes.How much longer could I pretend?My phone buzzed, snapping me back. A message from an unknown number flashe

CONTROL

Morning light spilled across the floor like gold dust, but it felt cold against my skin. I hadn’t slept. My body was heavy, and my mind was trapped between fear and foolish hope.The clock read 7:12 a.m., a reminder that the world didn’t pause for broken people. I sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the phone on my nightstand. One call. One decision. That was all it would take to change everything.I thought about Clara, her laughter, school, her anger about finishing school, and the way she believed I could fix everything. I thought about the eviction notice folded neatly under my pillow, as if pretending not to see it could make it disappear.Then I thought of Damien Voss. His voice was steady and commanding. His eyes, sharp enough to cut through walls.His promise: You’ll never have to beg again.My finger trembled as I dialed the number in the message from last night.A voice answered instantly, professional and calm. “This is Voss Enterprise.” “Yes, Miss Torres?”“Yes.” Mr. Vo

UNDER HIS RULE

The alarm buzzed at exactly 6:00 a.m., slicing through the silence of my new apartment. I’d barely slept. My body was in bed, but my mind had been pacing all night, haunted by the memory of Damien Voss’s eyes and the sharp command in his last message.> “Be ready by 7 AM. Wear black. And Elena… Don’t be late.”His words replayed in my head over and over like an unbreakable loop.I dressed in the black dress. So—sleek, delivered earlier, sleek, fitted, with a modest neckline but an aura of quiet power. It wasn’t me. It felt like I was wearing someone else’s skin. But maybe that was the point, and she needed to become someone else to survive this world.By 6:45, I was already downstairs, waiting. The driver, dressed in black like the rest of Damien’s world, opened the car door without a word.The city was still waking up, sunlight crawling between skyscrapers, soft horns echoing in the distance. But inside that tinted car, it was nothing but silence and tension.When we reached Voss Tow

THE TEST

The sound of my heels echoed down the marble hallway like a countdown to something I couldn’t escape. My palms were damp, my chest tight, but I forced myself to keep walking, chin up, back straight, toward the tall glass doors of Damien Voss’s office.I’d spent the entire night trying to understand him. The way he looked at me. The way his silence could strip me bare more than any insult ever could. And now, standing outside his office, I knew this wasn’t just a meeting. It was a test.I knocked once.“Come in,” his voice cut through the air low, even, and cold.The door closed behind me with a soft click, trapping me inside his world again. with floor to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, the skyline glinting like steel and glass weapons. He stood near the window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of dark liquid.He didn’t turn when I entered. He didn’t have to. His presence filled the room long before his gaze did.“Sit,” he said.I obeyed, though every muscle in

THE INVITATION

The email stared back at me, each word burning into my retinas until I could see them even when I blinked.Meet me in the private suite tonight. 10 p.m. sharp. My finger hovered over the touchpad. The cursor blinked—once, twice—like a heartbeat counting down the seconds until I had to make a choice I wasn't ready to make.I could delete it. Pretend my internet had glitched. Walk out of this office and spend the evening in my sterile apartment, microwaving something that barely counted as dinner and lying to Clara about how fine everything was.But my hand wouldn't move toward the delete key.The office had emptied an hour ago. I'd heard the gradual exodus: the shuffle of papers, the soft dings of elevators, and the murmur of "see you tomorrow" that people exchanged when they still believed in such things. Now there was only silence and the low hum of air conditioning and my own breathing, too loud in the stillness.I pressed my palms flat against the cool desk surface. Everything here

BREAKING PROTOCOL

"Everything," I repeated, the word catching in my throat like broken glass.Damien's hand remained at the back of my neck, his fingers warm against my skin, holding me in place without force. I could have pulled away. Should have. But my legs refused to move, rooted to the floor by something stronger than fear."Sit with me," he said, and this time it wasn't a command. Almost a question.He led me toward the leather sofa near the fireplace, his hand sliding down to intertwine with mine. The gesture felt surprisingly intimate more personal than anything we'd done in his office, where everything was power plays and psychological chess.I sank into the butter-soft leather, and he sat beside me. Not crowding, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough to run if I needed to.The fire crackled, filling the silence between us."I was married once," Damien said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a confession he hadn't meant to make.My he

MORNING AFTER

I didn't sleep.How could I, with Marcus Reed's message burning behind my eyelids every time I tried to close them? The photo of us — intimate, unguarded—felt like a violation that went deeper than privacy. It was proof that even in Damien's carefully controlled world, we were vulnerable.I'd left the suite at two in the morning, despite Damien's insistence that I stay. He'd wanted to strategise, to plan our counterattack, but I couldn't think straight with him so close. Couldn't separate the man who'd kissed me like I was oxygen from the CEO who was now dragging me into a war I didn't understand.Now, standing in front of my bathroom mirror at six-thirty, I looked like hell.Dark circles shadowed my eyes. My skin had that pale, translucent quality that came from exhaustion and fear. I'd scrubbed off last night's makeup in a daze, and now my face felt raw, exposed. Like someone had peeled back a layer I couldn't put back.I pressed my palms against the cool marble countertop, trying

THE WARNING

The call with Reed lasted exactly four minutes.I couldn't hear what was being said—Damien had turned away, his voice low and controlled, each word clipped with precision. But I watched the tension coil through his shoulders, saw his free hand curl into a fist against the window, and knew that whatever was happening on that call was dangerous.When he finally hung up, the silence felt heavy enough to crush me."Tomorrow," he said without turning around. Two o'clock. His office.I'm coming with you."No." The word was absolute."Damien—"This isn't negotiable, Elena. He turned, and his eyes had gone cold again—the vulnerable man from last night locked away behind layers of ice. Reed will try to use you against me. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you in the same room.So what am I supposed to do? Sit at my desk and pretend everything's fine while you walk into whatever trap he's setting?"Yes." He moved toward me, his expression softening slightly. "I need you here. Safe. Wh

CLARA'S QUESTION

I didn't tell Damien about Melissa.I should have. Should have marched straight back to his office and reported that his ex-wife had somehow gotten into the building, knew my name, and was clearly circling with intent. But something about the encounter felt too personal, too calculated to be a simple coincidence.Besides, I had bigger problems.My phone buzzed for the third time in an hour—Clara's name flashing across the screen with increasing urgency. I'd been ignoring her calls since lunch, buried in work I didn't need to do, hiding behind spreadsheets because numbers couldn't ask questions I didn't want to answer.The fourth buzz came with a text: If you don't pick up, I'm coming to your office.My stomach dropped. Clara couldn't come here. Couldn't see this world I'd been living in, couldn't meet the people who whispered about me in break rooms, couldn't accidentally run into Damien and make the connection between my boss and the man whose photo had been in the business section n

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