Page 5 of The Beast's Obsession

I turn from the window, pacing the length of my office like a caged animal. The ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner seems to mock me, each second an eternity until I can have her back in my presence.

My phone buzzes, and I snatch it up, hoping for some distraction from my spiraling thoughts. It's a message from my head of security, confirming that Lily's background check is complete. No red flags, nothing to indicate she's anything other than what she seems—a desperate young woman willing to do whatever it takes to save her family.

The knowledge should reassure me, but it only fuels my possessive instincts. I want to shelter her, protect her.

And then stuff her full of my cock until she whimpers and begs and afterwards spoil her rotten.

I pour myself a stiff drink, hoping the burn of whiskey will dull this maddening ache. But as the amber liquid slides down my throat, all I can think about is how Lily's lips would taste. Sweet and innocent, untouched by the darkness that consumes me.

Growling in frustration, I hurl the crystal tumbler against the wall. It shatters, shards glittering in the fading sunlight. The violence does nothing to quell the storm raging inside me.

I sink into my leather chair, my body thrumming with restless energy. Closing my eyes, I try to center myself, to regain the icy control that's served me so well. But all I can see is Lily—her wide, innocent eyes, the soft curve of her neck, the way she trembled under my touch.

Fuck. I'm in trouble.

three

. . .

Lily

The grand entranceof Grayson's estate looms before me, its polished marble and gleaming gold fittings making my heart race. I step inside, my worn flats barely making a sound on the immaculate floor. Everything screams wealth and power—from the crystal chandeliers to the priceless art adorning the walls. I still feel so out of place.

A stern-faced housekeeper appears, her crisp uniform a stark contrast to my simple sundress. Without a word, she turns on her heel and strides down the hallway. I follow, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous space.

My mind drifts to Mom and Danny back home, their faces drawn with worry. "It's just for a little while," I'd promised. "Until we get back on our feet." God, I hope I'm right.

The housekeeper stops abruptly at an ornate door. "Your room, Miss Hart," she says, her voice clipped. Then she's gone, leaving me alone in this gilded cage.

I step inside, overwhelmed by the sheer luxury. The bed alone is bigger than my entire apartment back home. I perch on the edge, running my fingers over the silky bedspread. Its intricate pattern blurs as tears fill my eyes.

"What am I doing here?" I whisper to the empty room. "Why does he want me living under his roof?"

Grayson's face flashes in my mind—those dark eyes burning with intensity, looking at me like I'm something to be consumed. Heat floods my body, settling low in my belly. I bite my lip, squeezing my thighs together as an unfamiliar ache builds.

Stop it, Lily, I scold myself.He's dangerous. Off-limits.

But my traitorous body doesn't listen. All I can think about is the way Grayson's gaze roamed over me, possessive and hungry. Like he could see right through me to all my hidden desires.

I flop back on the bed, covering my face with my hands. What have I gotten myself into?

I can't sit still. The walls of this lavish room feel like they're closing in, suffocating me with their opulence. I need to move, to explore, to try and make sense of this sprawling mansion that's now my...home? Prison? I'm not sure which.

My bare feet pad silently across cool marble as I wander the halls. Each room I peek into is a testament to obscene wealth—priceless art adorning walls, antiques that belong in museums. It's beautiful, but cold. Unlived in. Like everything's on display, waiting for admirers who never come.

A flash of movement catches my eye. Through a doorway, I glimpse a tall figure striding purposefully down a distant corridor.Grayson. My heart leaps into my throat, pulse racing. I press myself against the wall, praying he hasn't seen me.

His voice carries, low and commanding. "...want those reports on my desk by morning. No excuses."

I shiver, that deep timbre sending tingles down my spine. God, what is wrong with me? He terrifies me, and yet...

I creep closer, drawn by a curiosity I can't explain. Grayson's in his study, looming over a nervous-looking man in a suit. Even from here, his presence is overwhelming. He radiates power, danger.

But then I see it—a flicker of something else. Exhaustion? Loneliness? It's gone in an instant, replaced by that mask of cold authority. But it was there.

You don't know him, I remind myself.Stop trying to see good where there might not be any.

The sky outside darkens. I should go back to my room, but restlessness gnaws at me. Grayson's intense gaze haunts my thoughts, the unspoken tension between us a living thing.

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