Dark obsession

Touched but not mine

The door clicked shut and I immediately regretted it.

Damian's penthouse was dark. Silent. Except for the ice in his glass.

He didn’t look up when I walked in.

He was standing at the window, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loose, looking like he owned the entire Lagos skyline. Because he did.

"Close the door," he said. Voice flat. Bored.

I did.

"You're late."

"You texted me at 2:17am—"

"I don’t care what time I texted you." He finally turned. His eyes dragged over me, slow, judgmental. Like I was an employee who messed up a report.

"You're here. That’s what matters."

My heart was pounding. "Damian, my brother—"

"Is asleep." He cut me off and took a sip of whiskey. "And if he wasn’t, he still wouldn’t matter."

Arrogant. So damn arrogant.

He walked toward me. Every step deliberate. The kind of walk a man makes when he knows the room belongs to him.

"You shouldn’t have come," he said, stopping inches from me.

"Then why did you call me?"

"Because I wanted to see if you’d obey." His lips curved. Not a smile. A challenge. "And you did. Like a good girl."

Heat rushed to my face. "I’m not—"

"What? Not mine?" He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was cold. Possessive. "Maya. Let me make something clear."

His finger dropped to my chin and tilted my face up.

"I don’t share. I don’t ask twice. And I don’t lose."

"Your brother—"

"My brother is irrelevant." His thumb brushed my lower lip. Rough. "You came into my company 6 months ago. You smiled at me in meetings. You thought I didn’t notice."

I swallowed. "I didn’t—"

"Lie." The word was sharp. "You did. And I let you. Because watching you try to act professional while pretending you don’t want me was entertaining."

Bastard.

Hot, arrogant bastard.

"So what is this?" I whispered. "A game to you?"

"A game?" He laughed, low and dangerous. "No. Games have rules. This doesn’t."

He stepped back and sat on the arm of his couch, spreading his legs, looking at me like I was something he was about to acquire.

"Come here."

"What if I say no?"

"Then leave." He shrugged. "But you won’t. Because you’re curious. Because you want to know what happens when Damian Cross stops being professional."

I hated that he was right.

I walked to him. Slowly.

He grabbed my wrist the second I was close enough and pulled me between his legs. My knees hit the couch.

"Better," he murmured. His other hand came up to my waist. "Now listen carefully, because I’m only saying this once."

His eyes were dark. No warmth. Just ownership.

"You are off limits. To everyone. Especially my brother. You work for me. You breathe because I allow it. And tonight..."

He leaned in. His breath was whiskey and mint.

"Tonight you’re going to pretend you’re not terrified of what I’m about to do."

My phone buzzed.

`BROTHER: Where are you?`

Damian saw it. He took the phone from my hand without asking and dropped it on the table behind him.

"He can wait."

"Damian—"

"Maya." He said my name like a warning. His hand slid up to my neck. Not squeezing. Just there. Reminding me who was in control. "The next time I touch you, it won’t be to talk."

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t asking.

It was claiming. Arrogant. Demanding. Like he was stamping his name on me.

When he pulled back, I was shaking.

"Go home," he said, releasing me like nothing happened. "And wear that red dress to the board meeting on Monday. The one you wore to the gala."

"What? Why—"

"Because I said so." He picked up his glass again. Dismissed. "And Maya? If I see you talking to my brother again, we’re going to have a problem."

I ran.

At the elevator I could still feel his hands on me.

Arrogant. Boss. Mine.