Page 9 of The CEO's Obsession

With a growl of frustration, I stalk to my desk and open my laptop. Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm scrolling through Harper's Instagram, drinking in every photo. Her petite frame, those soulful eyes, the hint of vulnerability behind her quippy captions.

Heat pools in my groin as I imagine running my hands over her curves, tasting her soft skin. In my mind, I pin her against the wall, her breathy moans urging me on as I?—

"Enough," I snarl, slamming the laptop shut. This torment has to end. I can't take it anymore.

I grab my keys, my resolve hardening with each step toward the elevator.

The streets of Oakwood blur past as I navigate my Aston Martin through the autumn night. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel, adrenaline surging through my veins. The scent of fallen leaves and woodsmoke drifts through the cracked window, but I barely notice.

I pull up to Harper's modest apartment building, its weathered brick a stark contrast to my penthouse. For a moment, I hesitate. Is this too much? Am I acting like an unhinged madman?

But then I remember her eyes, the way they lit up when we discussed her art. The electric spark when our hands touched. I can't let that slip away.

With a deep breath, I stride to her door. My heart pounds as I raise my fist and knock, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

Seconds stretch into eternity. Then, the door creaks open.

Harper stands there, her eyes widening in surprise. She's in paint-splattered overalls, a paintbrush tucked behind her ear. Fucking beautiful.

"Mason?" she breathes, confusion and something else—desire?—flashing across her face.

I step forward, my gaze locked on hers. "Harper, I?—"

She backs up instinctively, and I follow, closing the door behind me. The small apartment seems to shrink, charged with unspoken tension.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice a mix of wariness and curiosity.

I swallow hard, searching for the right words. "I couldn't stay away. I needed to see you, to explain."

Her eyebrow arches skeptically, but I see a flicker of interest in her eyes. "Explain what, exactly?"

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. "I know I came on too strong before. But Harper, I can't stop thinking about you, and I’m not lying when I say I do believe in your talent, and I want to help you succeed. But I also wantyou."

Harper's fingers twitch at her sides, her body language guarded. "I don't need your charity, Mason. I can make it on my own."

"It's not charity," I insist, taking a step closer. The scent of turpentine and something uniquely Harper fills my senses. "It's an investment. In you, in your art. And I swear to God, as much as I want you, you aren’t beholden to me in any way for helping you. I’m not asking you to prostitute yourself out in exchange for my support."

She shakes her head, but I notice her resolve wavering. "You barely know me. Why would you do that?"

I struggle to find the right words, to express the inexplicable pull I feel towards her without scaring her off. "Because I see something special in you, Harper. Something rare and beautiful."

Her cheeks flush, and for a moment, I think I've overstepped. But then she speaks, her voice soft. "And I don’t have to do anything…um…sexual?"

The question hangs in the air between us, and I sigh. “I’m not going to lie, Harper, I want you more than I’ve ever wantinganyone.” Her eyes widen at my honesty, and I pause, then add quietly, "But just being close to you, just helping you will be more than enough."

Harper's eyes widen, and I see the internal struggle play out across her face. She wants this, I can tell, but her pride is holding her back.

"I...I don't know, Mason," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's a lot to take in."

I take another step closer, close enough now that I can see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. "Just think about it. Please. Let me help you create the art you've always dreamed of."

For a long moment, Harper is silent. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nods. "Okay," she breathes.

I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face. Harper's agreement, tentative as it is, feels like a victory. My heart races, and I have to resist the urge to pull her into my arms.

"Thank you," I say, my voice husky with emotion. "You won't regret this, Harper. I promise."

She looks up at me, a mix of hope and wariness in her eyes. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Mason."

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