Obsession

Setting the Trap

"Since the drinks are poured and the point is made... she’s coming with me."

"I had an excellent teacher," Sienna replied.

She let the bow drop to her side. Her deep teal dress shimmered with a subtle, dark luster, the silver floral embroidery winding down her spine like a vine of moonlight. A few white pearls sat at her collar, catching the sharp overhead lights.

Her voice was soft and melodic, yet laced with a biting edge. "Don't tell me you didn't like my welcoming committee?"

From across the range, a heavy, low chuckle vibrated through the air.

Sebastian watched her, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. It was a look that should have been charming, but instead, it radiated a suffocating pressure. He reached out a hand, and without a word, an attendant placed a bow in his palm. "You really know how to hold a grudge, don't you?"

Before the sentence even landed, he drew, aimed, and released.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

Before anyone could gasp, his arrow whistled past Sienna’s neck.

The razor-sharp tip missed her skin by a fraction of an inch. She could feel the rush of displaced air and the high-pitched hum of the shaft as it tore past.

His marksmanship was terrifyingly precise—he hadn't left a scratch on her, but the psychological impact was a calculated strike.

"Fun, isn't it?" Sebastian watched the color drain from her face, his eyes darkening with a twisted sort of interest. "And here I thought you weren't afraid of death."

He wasn't actually trying to kill her. Sebastian Thorne didn't play "fair" when he was angry; he didn't argue, he simply dismantled.

Her response was a cup of scalding tea.

The archery hall fell into a tomb-like silence. Sienna stood frozen for a few seconds, her hand flying to her throat as her heart hammered against her ribs. When she finally found her voice, it was fueled by pure, unadulterated rage. She grabbed the first thing she could reach—a porcelain teacup—and hurled it at him.

"You’re a psychopath, Sebastian! What is wrong with you?!"

The cup shattered at his feet, splashing tea across his expensive trousers.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Her "tantrums" were starting to wear thin. "What now? Are we still doing this?"

She didn't answer.

He took a step toward her, and Sienna bit her lip, hot tears finally spilling over.

Sebastian paused, his brow furrowing.

He hadn't expected her to break. Or perhaps it was simply that when a woman like Sienna showed weakness, she did it with a devastating beauty that scrambled the air in the room.

Sebastian felt a sudden, restless itch in his chest. He reached out and gave her head a rough, awkward pat. "What are you crying for?"

His tone was harsh, but the predatory edge in his eyes softened. Gone was the biting cruelty of the previous night. "You used me as target practice without a second thought. I’m the one with the scratch on my neck, yet you’re the one acting like the victim?"

Sienna flinched away from his touch.

"Victim? I’m not allowed to be a victim!" Her voice jumped an octave, her frustration boiling over. "You’re the one who said you’d pick me up in Cambridge! You’re the one who said you’d be my date! I stood outside the Meyer Ballroom until three in the morning, and you couldn't even give me an explanation or an apology! Why shouldn't I be angry?"

He had promised to visit her. She had spent days in a state of breathless anticipation, picking out the perfect dress, doing her makeup with shaking hands. She had waited from the Pre-Prom photos until the after-party lights went out, calling a phone that went straight to voicemail, only to receive a two-word text: 'Busy now.'

He had tossed her a scrap of hope, and she had been foolish enough to treat it like a lifeline.

Sebastian listened in silence, his voice dropping to a rare, softer register. "I was at the hospital."

"I don't care where you were playing around!"

Whether it was fear or residual anger, her emotions came pouring out as a floodgate had burst. "All you do is bully me! You treat me like garbage! If you’re so busy, then fine—don't ever come looking for me again! You’re... you’re completely impossible!"

"Impossible?" Sebastian let out a dry laugh. He looked down at her, his tongue pressing against his cheek as he lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. "You weren't worried about my 'logic' when you were the one chasing after me two years ago."

He tilted her chin up. "Do you really think your tears are that valuable?"

They weren't. But they were the only thing that could make a man like him hesitate.

Two years ago, their meeting in the southern provinces had been chaotic and absurd—cliché enough for a bad movie. Sienna had managed to offend the wrong group of rich heirs and was seconds away from a disaster she couldn't escape. That was the night she met Sebastian Thorne.

She had been terrified.

But the moment she grabbed the hem of his coat, the room went eerily silent. The men who had been harassing her—men who thought they owned the city—didn't say a word. They didn't interrupt; they didn't even breathe.

Their reaction told her everything she needed to know.

These people were terrified of him.

The air in the club was thick with the scent of expensive gin and high-stakes desperation. Neon lights cut through the shadows of the arched ceiling, reflecting off the ice in heavy crystal glasses. The night was young, and the South was a dangerous place for a girl alone.

Sienna bit her lip and took a step closer to him, her fingers tightening on his sleeve.

Sebastian turned to look at her.

He gave her a dismissive, bored glance. His eyes were sharp, cold, and carried a jagged edge of violence that made her skin crawl.

One look, and she felt it in her soul.

Sebastian looked down at her trembling hand and her wide, wet eyes. "Let go."

He had a cigarette between his fingers. His diamond cufflink caught the light, highlighting the tension in his forearm. A plume of grey smoke drifted between them, masking his expression. As he moved, a hot ember fell from the tip of his cigarette.

It landed right on her arm.

Sienna flinched, the sting of the burn jolting her, but her fear of the men behind her was greater than her fear of him.

Her teeth were literally chattering.

But even as her knees shook, she held on. "Take me with you."

Not 'Help me.' But 'Take me with you.'

The room was silent.

Through the haze of smoke, Sebastian narrowed his eyes. He pulled his arm away with a touch of impatience. His dark gaze was like a blade, dissecting her where she stood.

His lack of interest was clear.

Her voice cracked, her eyes rimmed with red, as she whispered a few desperate words.

Sebastian didn't hear them—or didn't care to. He turned to walk away without a second glance. But a sudden, inexplicable restlessness flared in his gut.

Sienna was, quite simply, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She had a face that could drive a man to madness and a grace that suggested she knew exactly how to use it.

Sebastian wasn't a "good" man. He preferred to watch the world burn rather than play the hero.

But in that split second, a possessive fire was lit. The crude insults being hurled by the men behind her suddenly grated on his nerves, fueled by the alcohol and a dark, sudden need to own her.

"Pouring you a drink was a favor, sweetheart. I can have any woman I want. Don't push your luck." "You were acting like a siren a minute ago. Why the act now? You broke my property, and you're going to pay for it. Maybe I should just call the cops and let you rot in a cell."

In the flickering, chaotic light, Sebastian reached out and snatched the glass they were trying to force down her throat.

"Who the hell do you think—" The man started to roar, but stopped mid-sentence. He practically slapped himself in his haste to back down, his voice trembling. "Mr... Mr. Thorne. I didn't see you there. What can I do for you?"

"This woman," Sebastian said, his eyes half-lidded. "I want her."

He draped an arm loosely over Sienna’s shoulder, looking at the other man with a mocking, jagged smile. With his other hand, he tilted the glass and poured the contents onto the floor. "I'll take her drink. Consider this my toast to you."

The high-proof spirit splashed across the man’s shoes. It wasn't a toast; it was a funeral rite.

The silence was absolute.

It was a blatant, crushing humiliation. Yet those "brave" trust-fund brats looked like terrified children. They didn't mutter a word of protest.

But Sebastian wasn't done.

"I’m offering you a drink. Are you going to insult me by not finishing it?" he asked lazily.

The message was clear: this wasn't over until he said it was.

No one dared to breathe.

Sienna felt the air leave her lungs. She had never seen anyone so casually arrogant, so comfortably cruel.

He was the king of bullies.

The man across from them looked like he wanted to vanish. He stammered an apology, his voice cracking as he directed it at Sienna. "I'm so sorry. I’ve had too much to drink. Please... don't take it personally."

Sienna instinctively tried to pull back, only to realize she was still tucked firmly against Sebastian's side. She watched the scene unfold, too terrified to move. She realized she might have traded a pack of wolves for a dragon.

"Forget it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Let’s just go."

She wasn't being merciful; she was just scared.

Sebastian smashed the glass on the floor and caught her chin, forcing her to look up. He studied her face with a predatory intensity, his thumb grazing the skin below her ear.

"Are you sure you want to go with me?"

Sienna shivered, her skin prickling with a heat she didn't understand. "Yes."

She couldn't stay there.

Sebastian smiled—a dark, cold expression that didn't reach his eyes. He pulled her flush against him, claiming her in front of everyone.

"Since the drinks are poured and the point is made... she’s coming with me."

Two years later, Sienna was even more breathtaking.

When she didn't respond, standing there with her head bowed in silent defiance, Sebastian let the coldness in his eyes fade. He offered a rare, jagged concession. "I’m sorry, okay? I was at the hospital, Sienna. My grandfather had a heart attack. My uncles and cousins were already picking over his will before he was even cold. I couldn't leave."

Sienna looked down, hiding the flicker of emotion in her eyes.

Busy enough not to even return a call?

It hurt, but she didn't want to overthink it. She pushed against his chest. "I don't care about your excuses. Let me go!"

She couldn't move him, so she kicked his shin.

But as her knee came up, he caught her leg mid-air. He narrowed his eyes, hooking his hand under her thigh and hoisting her up, pinning her against the archery table.

"Still mad?"

He looked at her, his throat bobbing as he let out a short, quiet laugh. "Why can't you just give me a break? If you'd just play nice for once, I wouldn't have to be so difficult."

Sienna, with no leverage, grabbed his shirt for balance before quickly letting go as if she’d been burned.

"Let me down." Her voice was a soft plea.

The archery hall was mostly empty, but the staff were still nearby. Even if they weren't looking, the situation was humiliating. She kicked her legs weakly, trying to squirm out of his grip.

Sebastian ignored her struggle. He adjusted his hold and simply carried her toward the exit.

"Put me down, I can walk!" she hissed, pushing at his shoulders. "People are watching, Sebastian! Do you hear me? Put me down!"

Sebastian didn't even slow down. "If you keep moving, I’m going to lose my patience and deal with you right here in the hallway. Your choice."

Sienna choked on her words.

"You’re a monster," she muttered. She hesitated, looking like a frustrated goldfish, before finally burying her face in the crook of his neck and falling silent.

Finally, she was behaving.

The night in Hong Kong was restless. Neon lights blurred through the rain-slicked windows as lightning flashed across the dark sky, illuminating the glass like cracks in a mirror.

Sienna emerged from the bath in a white silk slip, her bare feet silent on the carpet.

Sebastian was in the other room, still caught in a video conference. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she could hear the low, rhythmic hum of his voice. He was speaking a language she didn't recognize—something Latinate and sensual. She caught a few words but had no interest in eavesdropping.

She reached for her hair dryer, but her eyes caught the glow of another laptop on the nightstand.

[The investigation report you requested.]

His work email was open. The screen was logged into an internal server, and a notification from his lead assistant had just popped up with several attachments.

A dangerous, reckless thought took root in her mind.

Sienna lowered her gaze. As if moving on autopilot, she began to scroll.

A patent transfer agreement. An internal audit of Hengrong Electronics, tracking three years of suspicious cash flow and offshore accounts. A PR strategy for managing the scandal. And a list of private investigators looking into every executive at the firm.

Sebastian had more than just a scandal on the Hensleys. He had their throats in his hand. Once he secured the tech and the patents, Hengrong would be a hollow shell. They were only holding out because they didn't realize how much he already knew.

Why was he still digging?

Sienna’s heart hammered against her ribs. Her neck was damp with a cold sweat.

The air in the room felt like it was freezing, closing in on her until she could barely breathe.

She quickly cleared the browser history and closed the tabs.

"Looking for something?"

A low, gravelly voice vibrated behind her—a voice that sounded like it had been aged in smoke and expensive whiskey.