The Unfinished Obsession

CHAPTER ONE Zariah They say you never forget the eyes of the man you betrayed. I didn’t expect to see them again—not in this life, not in this city. And certainly not staring at me from across a sleek glass boardroom high above London’s rain-slicked streets. Steel-gray. Sharp enough to slice through silence. Cassian Moretti. My pulse stilled. The world tilted. The same man I left in a pool of blood five years ago, the man whose name I no longer whispered even in my dreams, was now seated at the head of the table like a king returning to a kingdom I didn’t know he owned. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn’t know I’m alive. “Miss Blake,” his voice cut through the tension, low and smooth like a blade sheathed in velvet, “You're five minutes late.” A chill raced down my spine. I swallowed. “I was… delayed.” Our eyes met. And just like that, I knew. He recognized me. Not the fake name I carried like armor. Not the carefully curated persona I wore like skin. Me. Cassian leaned back, every inch of him draped in expensive danger, his fingers steepled. “How interesting. I don’t usually hire ghosts.” The others in the room chuckled politely, unaware of the double-edged truth hanging between us. I forced a smile, as my knees threatened betrayal. “I wasn’t aware your company specialized in necromancy.” His lips curved. Not amusement—something darker. “I specialize in unfinished business.” He tapped the crystal ashtray beside him—empty, gleaming, waiting. I hadn’t smoked since Rome. He remembered. Every detail. Every sin. And he wasn’t here for coincidence. He was here… for me.