Page 31 of The Billionaire's Obsession

"I'm sorry I didn't leave a note." I twist my hands in my lap. "I didn't think I'd be gone long."

"You didn't think." There's no accusation in his tone, just a hollow emptiness that somehow hurts worse. "You were running from me."

The directness of his statement leaves no room for lies. "Yes."

He flinches as if I've struck him. For a powerful man who controls every situation, that small involuntary reaction speaks volumes. His eyes—those penetrating gray eyes that seem to see through every defense I've ever built—search mine.

"Tell me why." It's both command and plea.

I take a deep breath. "I woke up and I was thinking about...us. About how you are with me. The possessiveness. The control. How much I like it." My cheeks burn with the admission. "And I started to wonder if that makes me...weak. If there's something wrong with me for wanting to be owned the way you own me."

Understanding dawns on his face, followed by something darker, more intense. "You left because you enjoy belonging to me."

"Because I was scared of how much I enjoy it," I correct him. "Normal relationships aren't like this, Damon."

"Normal." He spits the word like it's poison. "I've never wanted normal. Not in business, not in life." He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles whiten. "And I certainly don't want it with you."

The limo turns a corner, sending me sliding slightly across the leather seat. Damon reaches out instinctively to steady me, his hand warm on my knee. He doesn't remove it.

"When I woke up and found you gone—" His voice breaks, and he has to stop, collect himself. "I've acquired companies worth billions. I've destroyed competitors who thought they could challenge me. I've built an empire that will outlive me." His grip on my knee tightens. "None of it mattered. In that moment, I would have traded everything—every penny, every building with my name on it—just to have you back."

Something shifts in my chest—a loosening of the tight knot of doubt I've been carrying. His thumb traces small circles on my knee, almost absentmindedly.

"I can't live without you," he continues, sounding surprised by his own admission. "I thought I was a complete person before I met you. I was wrong." He looks up, his eyes fever-bright. "I'm going crazy without you, Lucy. Two hours was unbearable. The thought of a lifetime..." He shakes his head, unable to finish.

"Damon—"

"Let me finish." He draws a ragged breath. "I know I'm intense. I know I'm possessive. I know I probably scare you sometimes with how much I need you." His hand slides up to mine, our fingers brushing. The contact jolts through me like electricity. "But what you need to understand is that it goes both ways. You own me just as completely as I own you. Maybe more so, because I never chose this. It just happened."

The confession hangs between us, stunning in its vulnerability. Damon Blackwell, admitting he's not in control. That I have power over him.

"You left this morning because you're afraid of how much you like belonging to me," he says softly. "I spent the morning terrified because I belong to you completely, and I thought you were gone forever."

The limo continues its aimless journey through the city streets while I absorb his words. Outside, the world goes about its business—people walking to work, stopping for coffee, living normal lives. Inside this bubble, there's only us and this strange, intense connection that defies conventional understanding.

"I don't know if what we have is healthy," I admit, voicing my deepest fear. "The way you track my phone, the way you need to control everything about me, the way I...respond to that." My voice drops to a whisper. "What if it's toxic?"

Damon considers this, his thumb still stroking my hand. "You can leave anytime," he says finally. "I've never locked you in. I've never forced you to stay. I track your phone because the thought of something happening to you and not being able to find you destroys me." His eyes hold mine. "If you truly want to go—if this isn't what you want—I'll let you go. It would kill me, but I would do it."

The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. Painful truth radiates from him.

"And if I stay?" I ask, my heart pounding.

"Then accept that this is who we are together. That we need each other in ways other people might not understand. That I will always be possessive of you because the alternative is unthinkable." His hand tightens on mine. "And trust that underneath everything—every command, every possessive moment—there's only love. Desperate, all-consuming love."

The word hangs between us. Love. He's never said it before. Neither have I. It seems simultaneously too small and too ordinary for what exists between us.

"I don't care if it's normal," I whisper, the realization crystallizing as I speak it. "I've spent my whole life trying to be what other people think I should be. Independent. Self-sufficient. Never needing anyone." I turn my hand over, lacing my fingers with his. "But with you, I can be myself. Even the parts of me that want to be possessed."

Something shifts in his expression—hope, breaking through the fear like sunlight through clouds. "You're not leaving?"

"No." The certainty settles into my bones. "I'm not leaving."

His exhale is shaky, his shoulders dropping as tension drains from his body. When he looks at me again, the vulnerability is still there, but so is that familiar intensity that makes my stomach flip.

"Come here," he says, his voice a low command that sends heat spiraling through me.

I slide across the seat into his arms. He crushes me against his chest, his face buried in my neck. I feel him inhaling deeply, like he's trying to breathe me in, to convince himself I'm really here.

---