Page 22 of The CEO's Obsession

Mason steps slightly in front of me, shielding me with his body. "I suggest you turn around and leave," he says to Tyler, his tone brooking no argument. "This doesn't concern you."

Tyler's eyes flash with anger. "Like hell it doesn't," he snaps. "Harper, come on. We need to talk. Alone."

I feel torn in two, my body yearning to stay pressed against Mason's warmth while my mind screams that I need to go with Tyler, to understand why he's here.

"I..." I start, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just..."

Mason turns to me, his eyes intense. "You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to, Harper," he says softly, but with an undercurrent of steel. "Say the word, and I'll have him removed."

The threat in his voice sends a chill down my spine. This is a side of Mason I'm not sure I'm ready to face.

Tyler takes another step forward, his hand outstretched. "Harper, please. You have no idea what's really going on. You're in danger."

My head spins. Danger? What could he possibly mean?

Mason's body tenses further, and I sense he's on the verge of doing something drastic. I have to make a choice, and fast.

With my heart pounding, I look between Mason and Tyler. The man who's awakened desires I never knew I had, and the friend who's always had my back.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the storm of emotions swirling within me. "Mason," I say softly, placing a hand on his chest. "It's okay. This is Tyler Morris. He’s an old friend from art school. I need to see what he wants."

Mason's jaw clenches, his eyes never leaving Tyler. "Like hell I'm letting you walk away with some guy," he growls.

I gently cup his face, forcing him to look at me. "Tyler isn't just 'some guy.' He's my best friend. We've known each other for years."

Mason's gaze only burns hotter with jealousy, and the tension doesn't leave his body. I can see the struggle playing out across his face—his need to protect me warring with his desire to respect my wishes.

"Look," I say, pointing across the narrow Parisian street. "See that little café with the red awning and the flower boxes in the windows? We'll be right there, having coffee and catching up. You can watch us the entire time if you want."

The café is a charming spot, its outdoor seating area filled with wrought-iron tables and chairs. The scent of freshly baked croissants and rich espresso wafts across the cobblestones, a reminder of the simple pleasures that drew me to this city in the first place.

Mason's eyes flick between me, Tyler, and the café. I can almost see the gears turning in his head as he weighs his options.

"Please," I whisper, standing on my tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Trust me."

He lets out a long, slow breath. "Fine," he says finally, his voice tight. "But I'll be watching. If anything seems off?—"

"I know," I interrupt, giving him a small smile. "You'll come charging in to save me. I get it."

I turn to Tyler, who's been watching our exchange with a mixture of concern and impatience. "Shall we?" I ask, gesturing towards the café.

As we cross the street, I can feel Mason's eyes boring into my back. The weight of his gaze is almost physical, a reminder of the passion and possessiveness that both thrills and terrifies me.

Tyler and I settle at a table near the window, where I know Mason will be able to see us clearly. The waiter brings us two steaming cups of café au lait, the rich aroma filling the air between us.

"Alright, Ty," I say, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. "Start talking. What's this about danger? And how on earth did you find me in Paris?"

Tyler leans forward, his eyes intense. "Harper, there's so much you don't know. About Mason, about his business...God, I don't even know where to start."

As Tyler begins to speak, I can't help but glance out the window. Mason is still there, leaning against the wall of the alley.

My heart goes cold at Tyler's words, each revelation like a shard of ice piercing my chest. The café around us fades into a blur as I struggle to process what he's telling me.

"Harper, Mason Blackwood isn't just some benevolent patron of the arts," Tyler says, his voice low and urgent. "He's a ruthless developer who's been systematically destroying artist communities all over California."

I shake my head, not wanting to believe it. "That can't be true. He's been so supportive of my work, of my dreams..."

Tyler reaches across the table, grasping my hand. "Listen to me. Remember that amazing gallery district in San Francisco? The one we always talked about visiting someday?"

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