His Untraceable Obsession Novels & Stories

Vincent Moretti had been his father's right hand before he became Antonio's, and in thirty years of navigating the kind of business that didn't get discussed in boardrooms, he had never come up empty for this long. "Whoever this is, they're exceptional," Vincent said, his voice carrying the grudging respect of someone who recognized quality work even when it was aimed at him. "Every trail we follow disappears cleanly. No loose ends, no digital footprints that survive more than forty-eight hours, no witnesses who saw anything they can articulate." "Everyone leaves traces." "This one doesn't." Vincent set the tablet on the table. "Or they leave exactly the traces they want us to find, which is

I mark her neck like a claim. But even as I lose myself in her, the conflict rages inside me. I am destroying her carefully built world. I am the darkness she keeps letting in. And the most terrifying truth of all? I don’t want to stop. Because for the first time in my miserable life, this obsession feels like the only thing worth burning everything else for.

To anything that would help me drown out his voice echoing in my head. “You’re pathetic.” That one stuck. It played on loop like a curse. Because I knew he was right. Maybe this obsession I had with him—this reckless, spiraling need to have him—wasn’t desire. Maybe it was a sickness. One that consumed every part of me until I didn’t recognize myself anymore. I tried to remember what happened after the club. There were pieces, scattered like broken glass. Laughter. Loud music. A drink too many. A face—his face?

We'd been out of service for three days, and apparently the world hadn't stopped. Multiple texts from Sophie. Several from Lucas. A few from Margaret Chen about the spring show. And one from an unknown number: Tick tock, Mrs. Cross. Month three is here. Hope you enjoyed your little escape. You're going to need the good memories. -R I showed Damien, my stomach sinking. "He knew we were gone," I said. "He's watching us." "Of course he is. He's obsessed with destroying us." Damien's jaw clenched. "But knowing we went to a cabin doesn't give him power. We're allowed to take trips. We're allowed to have a life."

Bound to a man who sees me even in the dark. Why did he tie me up in the first place if he was going to let me escape? Why did he take a picture of me? Why didn't he have his way with me when he had me pinned beneath him? My mind is a mess. I curl into a fetal position, crying my heart out. I fucking hate him. If I see him again, I’ll kill him. It’s all my fault. I started having the feeling of being watched a month ago before I began smelling his cologne in my house. Nathan doesn't use such an expensive, captivating scent. He barely uses any fragrance at all except I force him to.

But I’d like the chance of getting them back if I can at some stage. Standing, I smoothed my skirt and glanced at my displayed cleavage. Today I wore a low-buttoned, silky-black blouse and a string of pearls. ‘Are they recent movies?’ ‘Yeah, all from the last year.’ He cocked his head and grinned, his gaze following mine and leaving a heated trail down my throat and over my chest. I withdrew the first DVD from the bag. Full of Tristan. On the front was a picture of two naked guys standing facing out to sea, one with his hand on the other’s arse.

Five years of a thousand small and inexcusable lies and half truths that had brought us here — to this corridor, in this kingdom, at this hour — with a letter in Larry's pocket and medication in mine and enemies who knew things that Larry didn't know about himself yet. I was aware, ofcourse, that my obsession with was a serious problem. It had always been a big problem. And knowing all of that, I still couldn't stop my eyes from moving to him as we reached the east wing corridor. I took in the set of his shoulders, the tiredness under the anger, the way he held the letter in his hand like he was still waiting for it to make sense. And my wolf whispered something to me This obsession was goin

“The transactions are completely untraceable!” “Untraceable? How is that even possible?” Tristan demanded, taking the elevator down to the garage. “Is it a system breach? A hack?” “I don't know, Tristan! All I know is that you need to get down here and see this disaster for yourself!” The line went quiet for a split second before the man added urgently, “And Tristan… we need your wife. Only Lyra can fix a disaster of this scale.” Tristan went dead still in the driver's seat of his car, his chest tightening as the line disconnected.

After I do that, he will never want to leave my side and he will see just how much he wants to be with me. My feelings for him had never changed but rather grew even stronger for him since the night we spent together at his apartment. It was just, I could not wait any longer. I needed to be with him; I needed him to be mine, once and for all. This whole thing had to stop. I never go for guys shorter than me but there was something about Callum that just made my cl*t f*cking throb. The more I thought about him, the more fascinated I became. His flaws and my fascination with him had grown into an obsession. My frustration and obsession had turned into lust. I just could not stop thinking about

It's over for Tracy because she remains his object of interest. "That's it. Tracy is his obsession per se, he's obsessed with all the Scottish women. The land might just be the reason he's giving himself to obsessing over that family. When he couldn't get Tracy's mother, he had her killed and packed up. Once Tracy had grown up, he returned. This time more determined than before. Maybe he got sloppy." "Director Singh, this man had everything planned down to if he got arrested by the authorities, I don't think the word sloppy exists in his vocabulary."