All Chapters of MY CEO, MY OBSESSION : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I said yes.Not because I wanted to—or maybe I did, and that was the problem. I said yes because saying no felt like a door closing on something I wasn't ready to walk away from, even though every rational part of my brain screamed that I should.Saturday morning arrived with unseasonable warmth, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my apartment like an accusation. I'd barely slept, caught between Clara's unanswered texts and Melissa's cryptic message that I'd deleted three times before finally blocking the number.The stylist arrived at noon sharp.Her name was Margot—all sharp cheekbones and sharper observations, wearing black from head to toe like she was attending a funeral instead of preparing someone for a gala. Two assistants followed her, wheeling racks of dresses that probably cost more than my college tuition."Elena Torres." She circled me slowly, appraising. "Damien said you'd be resistant.""He talks about me to his stylist?""Darling, he talks about

The song ended, but Damien's arms remained around me–a beat too long to be purely professional, short enough to maintain plausible deniability."We should mingle," he said, though his tone suggested he'd rather do anything else."Should we?" I stepped back reluctantly, already missing the warmth of his body. Or should we just leave before–"Leaving would be admitting defeat." His hand found the small of my back again, that possessive gesture I was starting to recognize. "And I don't admit defeat."He guided me through the crowd, stopping occasionally to exchange pleasantries with people whose names I immediately forgot. Everyone smiled. Everyone asked polite questions. And everyone's eyes held the same calculating assessment: who was I, and what was I worth?We were near the auction tables—ridiculous items on display with even more ridiculous starting bids—when I felt it. That prickling sensation of being watched by someone whose attention felt different from the ambient curiosity aro

I didn't go to work Monday morning.Or Tuesday.I called in sick–which wasn't entirely a lie. My stomach had been in knots since Saturday night, and I'd barely slept, replaying Melissa's words, Damien's admission, the look on his face as I'd driven away.I saw both. And I'm not going to apologize for recognizing an opportunity when I saw one.Wednesday morning, my phone rang at seven a.m. sharp. Not Damien–Sophia.He wants you in the office. Today. Nine o'clock. Her voice was professionally neutral, but I caught the undercurrent of warning."Sophia, I don't think–""Elena." She cut me off gently. Whatever happened at the gala, he's been impossible since. Fired two people yesterday for mistakes that normally wouldn't even register. You need to come in. Before he burns down everything around him.The line went dead.I stood in my bathroom–his bathroom, really, in his apartment,staring at my reflection. Dark circles shadowed my eyes. My skin looked pale, drawn. I looked exactly like some

I didn't expect to see Damien outside my apartment that night.But at nine-thirty, there he was–standing in the hallway outside my door, still in his work clothes but with his tie loosened and his expression raw in a way I'd never seen before."How did you–" I started.I own the building, he said quietly. But that's not why I'm here. Can we talk?Every instinct told me to say no. To maintain the boundaries I'd just fought so hard to establish. But something in his eyes–exhaustion mixed with determination–made me step aside."Five minutes," I said.He nodded and entered, looking around the apartment he'd arranged for me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "You haven't packed anything.""I only decided this afternoon." I crossed my arms, maintaining distance. And I have until end of week, remember?"I know." He shoved his hands in his pockets, a gesture that made him look younger somehow. Less controlled. "But I couldn't wait until then. I needed to–" He stopped, jaw working. I ow

I woke up alone.Sunlight streamed through unfamiliar windows, and for a disorienting moment, I couldn't remember where I was. Then the details came back–Damien's loft, his bed, the way his hands had felt on my skin, the promises we'd made in the dark that seemed shakier in the morning light.I sat up, pulling the sheet around myself, and listened. Water running in what must be the bathroom. The distant sound of a phone buzzing.My clothes were folded neatly on a chair–not how I'd left them last night when they'd been scattered in our urgency. Someone had picked them up. Organized them.Of course he had.I dressed quickly, my hands fumbling with my jeans. In the clear light of day, last night felt like a mistake I couldn't take back. We were supposed to be taking space. I was supposed to be finding myself. Instead, I'd fallen back into his orbit the moment he'd asked.Two people who want each other, I'd said. Nothing more, nothing less.But standing in his bedroom, surrounded by evide