Dark obsession

The morning after

*CHAPTER 18: "THE MORNING AFTER" -

I woke up to heat.

And weight.

And the smell of whiskey, cedar, and Damian.

His arm was locked around my waist like a seatbelt.

His face was buried in my neck.

His breathing was steady, deep.

Like he’d been waiting his whole life to sleep like this.

I tried to shift.

His grip tightened instantly.

"No."

The word was rough. Morning voice. Gravel and sleep.

"Damian, let me go."

"No." He pulled me closer until my back was flush to his chest. "Five more minutes."

Five minutes turned into ten.

I stared at the hotel ceiling.

White.

Blank.

Just like my brain was trying to be.

Remembered last night.

The rooftop.

The kiss.

The text.

`With me. Stop asking.`

My stomach dropped to the floor.

"You're awake," he murmured against my skin. His lips brushed my neck.

"Yes."

"And you're thinking about running."

"...Maybe."

He sighed. A heavy, defeated sound.

Then he rolled us over.

Now he was above me.

Hair a mess.

White dress shirt unbuttoned halfway.

Eyes clear.

Too clear for someone who drank a whole bottle 6 hours ago.

"Morning," he said. Like this happened every day.

"Morning." My voice was barely there.

"Regret it?"

The question hung between us.

Heavy.

Drowning us.

I should have said yes.

Should have pushed him off.

Should have run to the bathroom and called my brother and begged for forgiveness.

"I don't know," I whispered. Because lying to him felt worse than the truth.

Damian's jaw ticked.

He sat up. Ran both hands through his hair.

Looked around the room.

At the empty whiskey glasses.

At my dress on the floor.

At me in his shirt.

"Shit."

"What?"

"Last night." He dragged a hand down his face. "I texted him."

My heart stopped.

"I know."

"I kissed you."

"I know."

"In public. In front of everyone."

"I KNOW, DAMIAN!"

The room went silent.

Only the AC humming.

He stood. Walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Abuja was bright. Busy. Normal.

While my life was on fire.

"Say something," he said. Back still to me. Shoulders tense.

"What do you want me to say?"

"That you hate me."

"I don't."

"That it was a mistake."

His shoulders tensed more.

"Was it?" I asked. The question hurt.

He turned. Slow.

Eyes dark. Sober.

No more whiskey to blame.

No more party to hide behind.

"No."

The word hit me like a slap.

"No, Maya. It wasn't a mistake."

He crossed the room in 3 strides. Dropped to his knees in front of the bed.

Took my hands in his. His were cold. Mine were shaking.

"I've been pretending for 6 months." His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "That you're just my PA. That I don't watch you when you think I'm not looking. That I don't want you."

A pause. His voice cracked.

"Last night I stopped pretending. And I don't regret a second of it."

"Damian, my brother—"

"I know." He cut me off. "He's going to be furious. He might try to fire me. He might try to take you from me. He might—"

"Then why?"

"Because I'm tired of losing you by inches."

I pulled my hands away.

"You don't get it. This is my family. This is my job. This is my whole life!"

"This is what?" He stood. Anger flashing. "This is me. And you. And I'm tired of hiding in hallways and pretending I don't want to touch you!"

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

Unlocked it with shaking fingers.

Threw it on the bed in front of me.

20 missed calls.

`BROTHER - 8`

`MOM - 6`

`AUNTY - 4`

`UNKNOWN - 2`

And the text thread.

12:03am - Damian: `With me. Stop asking.`

12:04am - Brother: `You better have a good explanation.`

"Read it," he said quietly.

I did. My hands were shaking.

"So. What now?" he asked.

"What do you mean what now?"

"I mean are you going to run? Are you going to pretend last night didn't happen? Are you going to go back to Lagos and act like my PA again and make me die a little more every day?"

Each question was a knife.

"No."

"No to which one?"

"No to running." My voice broke. "I can't. Not anymore. Not after last night."

He exhaled. Like he'd been holding his breath for 6 months.

"Good."

Then he did something that broke me.

He looked scared.

Actually scared.

"Say it again."

"Say what?"

"That you're mine."

"Damian—"

"Please."

And just like that, the arrogant CEO was gone.

And it was just him.

A man terrified I’d leave him in this hotel room.

"I'm yours," I whispered.

"Louder."

"I'm yours."

"Good." He pulled me into him. Not a kiss. A hug. Arms tight around me. "Because I'm yours too. Even if it's messy. Even if it's wrong. Even if the whole world hates us. You're mine."

---

9:00am. Checkout time.

He ordered room service like we had all the time in the world.

Two coffees.

Pancakes.

Fruit.

Like he hadn't just detonated both our lives.

My phone buzzed on the table.

`BROTHER: Land in Lagos. Now. We’re talking.`

I showed Damian.

He read it. Didn’t even blink.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"We’ll go." He sipped coffee. Calm. "Together."

"Together?"

"Together." He took my hand across the table. "You don’t face him alone. Not anymore. Not ever again."

Rule 4: You sleep in this bed. With me.

Rule 5: You face the world with me.

Rule 6: No more hiding.

I think he was making new rules.

---

On the flight back to Lagos:

He didn’t open his laptop.

Didn’t take calls.

Just held my hand the entire 1 hour.

His thumb rubbing circles on my skin.

Every 10 minutes he’d look over at me.

Checking.

Like he was afraid I’d vanish if he looked away.

"Are you scared?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Of me?"

"No. Of everything else. Of losing them. Of losing this."

"Don’t be." He brought my hand to his lips. Kissed my knuckles. "I’ve got you. I promise."

Arrogant.

Possessive.

And for the first time... completely mine.

When we landed, he was right.

My brother was at arrivals.

Suit.

Face like thunder.

Two security guards behind him.

Damian saw him.

Squeezed my hand once.

And didn’t let go.

"Chapter 18," he whispered as we walked toward him.

"The morning after. And I still don’t regret it. Not one bit."

---

*END OF CHAPTER 18*