Page 29 of Bonds of Obsession

As I pass one of the larger pools, two women in black uniforms—no-nonsense jumpsuits this time, rather than the silky robes and skirts I’ve seen on the other employees—appear in front of me, blocking my path. Their stances are casual, but there’s nothing relaxed about the way they’re watching me.

“Ladies, we need the room cleared.” The taller one’s voice carries across the water, firm but professional. “Please exit through the main doors.”

Murmurs of protest rise from the pools. A woman with elaborate tattoos covering her back shoots us an annoyed look as she climbs out of the water.

“Is this really necessary? I just got comfortable.”

“Management’s orders, ma’am. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

One by one, the other guests emerge from the water and begin filing out. The sounds of splashing and conversation fade until only the gentle burble of the fountains remains.

The shorter woman turns to me, her dark eyes unblinking and intense. “Mr. Mercer would like a word with you.”

10

QUINN

I nod,my throat suddenly dry in spite of all the steam I’ve been breathing. “Right. Of course. Let me just grab my clothes from the?—”

“That won’t be necessary.” The taller woman’s hand clamps around my upper arm as I try to edge toward the locker room. Her fingers dig into my skin with practiced precision—not enough to bruise, but definitely enough to control.

“I’m standing here naked,” I say, hating how my voice wavers. “I can’t exactly?—”

“Mr. Mercer will see you.” The shorter woman steps closer, her presence forcing me back half a step. “Now.”

The air feels colder against my exposed skin, raising goosebumps even in the humid air. They’re going to parade me through this place naked. A power play, obviously—keeping me vulnerable and off-balance.

Which means I got their attention. Got his attention.

This was the plan. This is what I wanted.

The two women stare at me, their eyes drilling into me from both sides, their expressions practically carved from stone. My arms twitch, instinct screaming to cover myself, but I plant themat my sides instead. Let them look. If they’re trying to intimidate me by keeping me naked, they can fuck right off.

Minutes stretch like hours in the dim light. The only sounds are water lapping against tile and the soft hiss of steam rising from the pools. My skin prickles, but I keep my chin high, my gaze steady. These women want me to crack, to show even a flicker of discomfort.

They don’t know who the fuck they’re dealing with. I’ll give them and Malcolm an eyeful before I’ll even consider giving them the upper hand.

A door opens across the room, the sound echoing off the walls. Light spills in from beyond, casting a long shadow that stretches across the wet floor. A man steps through—tall, angular features sharp in the low light. His dark eyes scan the room with practiced efficiency before settling on me. Despite his perfectly tailored suit, there’s something predatory in the way he moves, like a shark gliding through deep water.

“Leave us.” His voice is quiet but carries an edge of authority that only comes from being obeyed the first time.

Every time.

The female employees withdraw without a word, their footsteps fading until the door clicks shut behind them.

The silence grows heavier as Malcolm and I size each other up. His thin lips curve into something that might be a smile, but it doesn’t make it to his eyes. Those stay cold, calculating, taking me in while giving nothing away in return.

He steps closer, his shoes clicking against the wet tile. Steam curls around him, making his dark suit appear to ripple and shift. My heart pounds, but I force my breathing to stay even and measured.

“Interesting approach.” He begins to circle me, moving with what seems to be a deliberate slowness. “Most people try to get my attention through more… conventional channels.”

A single finger traces along my shoulder blade. The touch is light, almost clinical, like he’s examining merchandise. My skin erupts in goosebumps, but I keep my stance wide, my shoulders back, and my head high.

“Conventional is boring.” I stare straight ahead as he completes his circle, refusing to track his movement.

His fingers brush my collarbone and trail down my arm. “And you’re anything but boring, aren’t you?” He stops in front of me, dark eyes searching my face. “That symbol you drew on the glass. Where did you see it?”

“My father put it on me.” I turn slightly, showing him the small tattoo on my shoulder. “The design is hidden underneath that tattoo.”

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