Page 21 of Shadows of Obsession

Fuck. I scared her. Again.

I take a step toward her, and she backs away. I see her put up her hand as a barrier between us, and the demon in me writhes like a snake, but I manage to keep my mask in place.

"He deserved what he got, Luna," I tell her, almost whispering, trying not to frighten her more.

I see her frown at me as if she can't believe I could be so calm after beating someone.

"He left marks on your arm," I say in a tone that's closer to the monster in me than the gentleman I'm supposed to be, and I make a mental note to break the hands of the idiot who dared to touch her.

I see her instinctively place her palm over the mark left by his fingers.

"He's drunk and didn't realize what he was doing, Mr. Borisov," I hear her say while still looking at the man who isn't getting up from the floor.

Probably from the alcohol and bruised ribs. He’ll stay like that for hours until someone picks him up.

"Alcohol isn't an excuse. He's an adult and should know his limits, especially in a professional setting. In the end, this manis a reflection of the company, and I don't like his reflection," I tell her, trying to make her understand there's no point having empathy for him, especially after hearing him talk about the project and his intentions with it.

The fact that she continues to call me Mr. Borisov grates on my nerves.

"Regarding what you were discussing before he grabbed your arm." My words seem to teleport her to the present because her back straightens and her gaze becomes serious.

"I don't know what you heard, but I wouldn't have agreed to do what he proposed," she tells me, and I smirk.

"I didn't hear the entire discussion, so if you could clarify exactly what he proposed, I'd be grateful," I tell her and signal her to follow me, but she keeps looking at the drunk on the floor.

I don't need details to know what he's suggesting. Anyone with half a brain understands what leaking a prototype to our competition would do - it'd be nuclear.

My security detail's been hovering nearby since I grabbed him, waiting. They know the rules - when I'm handling things personally, they don't move without my signal. One slight nod from me, and they collect our drunk friend. He and I will finish this chat later, when he's sobered up in my special warehouse. The one reserved for...particularly enlightening conversations.

“My men will get him to an office, have a doctor check him out," I tell her, answering the question written all over her face.

She's actually worried about this piece of garbage who turned on her the moment she said no. Better she doesn't know that 'office' is code for basement, or that the only doctor he'll see is the one making sure he can survive what's coming.

Her shoulders relax a fraction at my explanation, and she follows me without another backward glance. I find an emptyoffice and gesture toward one of the armchairs, but she stays standing, defiant as ever.

"What did he want?" I ask, my eyes betraying me as they trace the lines of her dress.

That neckline frames her cleavage perfectly.

Perfect for my hands to... I clear my throat, forcing my mind away from thoughts that would scandalize HR.

"He wanted to sell the bracelet prototype to competitors. Give them the edge in the market," she explains, her eyes darting around the room, sizing up everything. Including me.

I know defensive behavior when I see it.

My Luna wants to bolt.

Christ, Roman. 'My Luna.'My obsessions usually have this problem - they spiral too deep, too fast. But she's...different. For once, I don't feel that familiar urge to conquer, to dominate. Don't need to see her submit.

I just want her safe. And that's...troubling. None of my previous women got that privilege. They knew the deal upfront - my time and attention weren't part of the package.

Here I am, fresh from lecturing Sofia about feelings and our world, and I can't even follow my own damn advice. But that's the real problem - if these are actual feelings, I've got no playbook for handling them.

The problem is that her presence plays with my reason. I saw her reaction with that idiot, but what if she's somehow involved and was actually sent by someone to play with my mind?

"Did he give you a name?"

I try to think of who would be interested in a prototype of bracelets that monitor some health values, and no one comes to mind.

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