Falling Into Obsession.

Chapter 9 -Collecting What's Mine. (Ezra POV)

The brass chime above the shop’s door let out a dull clang as I stepped inside. The sound barely registered, my focus was elsewhere.

She was here.

Elizabeth.

She didn’t notice me at first. She was crouched beneath a display, half-hidden from view, her fingers wrapped around a wrench, entirely unaware that the air around her had changed. That I had entered her space, bringing the weight of my presence with me. I took a step forward, slow and deliberate, my boots pressing against the wooden floorboards with purpose.

Then she stilled.

The tension in her shoulders, the sharp intake of breath, I saw it all. The moment she realized something was wrong. That she was no longer alone.

She pushed herself up, graceful despite the slight hesitation in her movement. And when she finally faced me, I saw it again, that flicker of awareness in her eyes. A careful calculation. She knew me, even if she didn’t quite know how.

Interesting.

Her gaze traveled over me, taking me in as if trying to measure the danger in the space between us. She did it well, better than most. But it was wasted effort. Whatever conclusion she came to wouldn’t change the inevitable. I watched her straighten, brushing imaginary dust from her jeans, a subtle move to compose herself.

As she stood, I could finally see her in all her glory.

Radiant skin, glowing even under the dim afternoon light filtering through the windows, a stark contrast to the dark, dust-flecked room she found herself in. Kissable, pursed lips,soft, plump lips that looked like they’d taste of innocence and something far too sweet for the likes of me. Honey-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, flowing in delicate waves, plenty to take a fistful of should the opportunity arise. And then there were her eyes,bright blue, round with the kind of innocence that belonged to a girl who had seen some of the world but hadn’t yet come face-to-face with true evil.

She had no idea what kind of man stood before her.

I tilted my head slightly, allowing my gaze to rake over her, slow and unhurried, taking in every nervous shift of her weight, every flicker of discomfort in those wide, expressive eyes. She didn’t know whether to stand her ground or shrink away. I could see the hesitation in the way she held herself, straight-backed but rigid, like prey caught in the sights of a predator but unwilling to admit she was afraid.

“Hey,” she said, her voice level. “How can I help you today?”

She was playing it well, pretending there was nothing unusual about a man like me standing in a place like this.

I let the silence stretch just a little too long. Enough to unnerve. Then, finally, I tilted my head slightly, observing her reaction.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” I saw the way her fingers twitched at her sides before she forced them to relax. A natural reaction, defensive.

“Should I?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. I smirked. It wasn’t a real smile, just enough to let her know I wasn’t fooled.

“I suppose that depends.” I took another step forward, closing the distance between us at a measured pace. “On whether you remember last night at all.”

She swallowed but didn’t back away like most. That intrigued me.

“I remember enough,” she said, her voice even. “Dancing. Drinking. Having a good time.” I hummed, watching her closely. “Interesting,” I murmured. “Because I remember something else.”

I reached into my coat pocket, slow enough to see the flicker of uncertainty cross her features. She didn’t flinch, but she was prepared to. Smart girl. But all I pulled out was a small slip of paper. I placed it on the counter between us, pushing it forward with a single finger. She hesitated before picking it up, unfolding it carefully. The moment she saw the numbers, I saw the shift in her. The sharp inhale, the way her lips parted slightly as realization dawned.

Her bar tab.

I let her absorb it before speaking. “Last night, you and your friend enjoyed quite the selection of drinks at my club,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “Top shelf liquor, bottle service, the works.” I leaned forward slightly, letting my presence press down on her. “But when the night ended… you conveniently forgot to settle your tab.”

She looked up at me, her pulse ticking visibly in her throat. I saw the memories forming now, clicking into place. The recklessness of the night. The indulgence. And the debt left unpaid. She parted her lips, but I didn’t give her the chance to speak. “Normally, I don’t deal with these things personally. I have people for that.” My gaze swept over her slowly. “But you… you intrigued me.”

There it was. The shift in her posture, the hesitation in her breath. It wasn’t just fear. No, it was something else,something she couldn’t quite name yet. “I like to personally collect on debts that interest me.” She tried to mask her reaction. I admired the effort. “And if I say it was an honest mistake?” I chuckled, low and rich. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” I tapped the paper once. “But a debt is a debt, Elizabeth.”

Her name rolled off my tongue smoothly, deliberately. I saw the way she reacted to it. She squared her shoulders, trying to meet me on even footing. “Right. Well. I’ll pay it.”

I let out a slow breath, amusement flickering in my expression. “Of course you will,” I murmured. “But I’m not here for just the money.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “Then what do you want?” I leaned back slightly, letting the question linger. Then, finally, I extended my hand towards her. “Ezra,” I said simply. “Owner of the club where you so conveniently forgot to pay.”

She hesitated before reaching out, her fingers brushing mine. Her handshake was firm, stronger than I expected. But her pulse, hammering just beneath the surface, betrayed her.

“Nice to meet you, Ezra.” I smirked, holding her gaze as I let my grip linger just a fraction too long before releasing her hand. Then, I let the truth slip. “There’s something else you should know.” She swallowed. “What?” I tilted my head, savoring the moment. Finally, I tapped the bill again. “You don’t actually owe me anything.” She blinked. “What?”

“I already paid the tab.” I watched her process the words, confusion flashing across her face before she finally spoke. “You… paid it?” I gave a slight shrug. “Let’s just say I took care of it.” Her expression hardened slightly. “Why?”

Instead of answering, I took a slow step forward, close enough that the scent of her skin mixed with the faint herbal aroma of the shop.

“Because, sweetheart,” I murmured, voice smooth as silk laced with something darker, “I wanted to.” She was silent. I could almost hear her thoughts racing, trying to piece together my motive. She wouldn’t find an answer, at least, not yet. She narrowed her eyes, searching my face for something. “So if you’re not here for the money, what do you want?”

I let the silence stretch again, watching the way it unsettled her.

Then, the doorbell jingled.

Elizabeth startled, and the atmosphere between us shifted instantly as another woman strolled in, holding a brown paper bag and a coffee. “Alright, got the goods!” she announced before stopping short, eyes darting between us. “Uh… am I interrupting something?”

I allowed my expression to smooth over, slipping effortlessly back into something lighter.

“Not at all,” I said smoothly. “I was just leaving.”

Elizabeth was still watching me, wary, calculating. I held her gaze for a beat longer, then inclined my head. “We’ll talk again soon.”

I turned, stepping toward the door. As I pulled it open, I let myself smirk one last time before disappearing into the afternoon light.

Let her wonder. Let her question.

Because I wasn’t finished with her yet.