Dark obsession

Drunk and dangerous

Day 2 in Abuja.

And Damian was in a mood.

He’d been on calls since 6am.

Yelling in English.

Yelling in French.

Yelling in whatever language CEOs use to ruin people’s lives.

I heard "contract" and "breach" and "I will buy you" through the door.

By 8pm, he threw his phone on the couch. It bounced.

"We’re going out."

I looked up from my laptop. "Where?"

"Company party. Investors. The whole branch." He undid his cufflinks. "You’re coming."

His eyes dragged over me. Leggings. Oversized tee. Hair in a bun.

"Wear black."

Rule 3.

"Damian, I’m not—"

"Not what? Not my PA? Not coming?" He stepped closer. "Pick one."

I picked black.

---

30 minutes later.

The dress was from the same shopping bag.

Black slip. Silk. Slid down like water.

Backless.

Hit mid-thigh.

I felt naked and powerful at the same time.

He wore black too.

Suit. No tie. Top 2 buttons open.

Sleeves rolled.

Veins.

Watch.

The smell of whiskey already on him and we hadn’t left yet.

"You look—" He stopped himself. Jaw ticked. "Good. Let’s go."

The car ride was silent.

His knee kept brushing mine.

On purpose.

The venue was a rooftop.

Abuja skyline glittering.

Infinity pool.

Champagne towers.

200 people in suits and lies.

The second we walked in, the music dipped.

"That’s Cross," someone whispered.

"And who’s that with him?"

"That’s his brother’s—"

"Shh."

Damian’s hand found my lower back.

Not gentle.

Possessive.

Claiming.

Like he was telling the whole room: `Touch her and die.`

He didn’t introduce me to anyone.

He dragged me straight to the bar.

"Whiskey. Double."

The bartender poured.

Damian drank it in one shot.

Eyes never left me.

"Problem?" I asked.

"Nothing a drink won’t fix." He signaled again. "Two more."

By 9:00 he was on his third.

By 9:30, his control was slipping.

I saw it.

The way his fingers drummed on the bar.

The way he watched every man who looked at me.

The way his jaw ticked when Mr. Adebayo from yesterday walked by.

---

At 10:15, it happened.

Mr. Adebayo.

With his wife this time.

Pearls. Red lipstick. Judging eyes.

"Mr. Cross! Wonderful party." He shook Damian’s hand. "And Miss Adele, you look stunning."

Damian stared at him.

Long.

Too long.

"She does," he said finally. Voice low. Then his arm came around my waist. Tight. Fingers digging in. "Doesn’t she, Mrs. Adebayo?"

The woman smiled. Stiff. "Very."

"Good." Damian pulled me flush against him. I could feel every inch of him. "Because she’s mine."

The world stopped.

My face burned.

"Damian—"

"What?" He looked down at me. Eyes glassy. Whiskey and something darker. "I’m drunk. I say what I think."

Mr. Adebayo cleared his throat. "Well. Enjoy the party."

They walked away. Fast.

"You just told a client’s wife—"

"Told the truth?" He finished my drink too. "Yeah. I did."

Rule 2: No other men.

Tonight he was breaking all the rules. Starting with his own.

---

At 11pm, the DJ switched to something slow.

Something dangerous.

Damian grabbed my hand.

"Dance."

"I don’t dance—"

"Dance, Maya."

He pulled me to the center of the floor.

Right under the lights.

Right where everyone could see.

One hand on my lower back.

One hand in my hair.

And he moved.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Like he owned the music. Owned me.

People were watching.

Phones were out.

I could hear whispers.

"Is that—"

"His brother’s—"

"Cross lost his mind—"

Damian didn’t care.

He leaned down.

And kissed me.

Not a peck.

Not a secret.

A real kiss.

Deep.

Possessive.

His tongue against mine like he was branding me.

I gasped into his mouth.

His hand tightened in my hair.

`Mine.`

When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.

His forehead against mine.

"Now they know," he murmured. So only I could hear. "Everyone knows."

"Damian, we have to go—"

"No." He shook his head. "No more hiding. No more pretending. Not in Abuja. Not anywhere."

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out. Didn’t let go of me.

`BROTHER: Where is Maya? Mom is asking.`

`BROTHER: She’s not answering.`

Damian laughed.

Actually laughed.

Dark. Unhinged.

And he typed back.

Right in front of me.

I watched his thumbs move.

`With me. Stop asking.`

He hit send.

My heart stopped.

"You didn’t—"

"I did." He pocketed my phone. Then his. "Let him come. Let him try to take you from me."

---

By midnight he was swaying.

Not drunk-stupid.

Drunk-honest.

The driver was waiting downstairs.

I had to help him to the car.

His arm over my shoulders. Heavy.

The driver stared straight ahead. Professional.

In the backseat, Damian pulled me onto his lap.

Like I weighed nothing.

"Say it," he demanded. Breath hot against my ear. Whiskey and cedar.

"Say what?"

"That you’re mine. That you want this too."

"Damian, you’re drunk—"

"I’m the most honest I’ve been in 6 months!" He buried his face in my neck. Inhaled. "Say it or I’ll keep kissing you until you do."

His lips on my neck.

Not kissing.

Marking.

"You don’t get to hide from this anymore, Maya."

"Damian—"

"Say it."

"I'm yours," I whispered.

"Again."

"I’m yours."

"Louder. So Abuja can hear."

"I’M YOURS, DAMIAN!" I yelled it.

He smiled. Dark. Satisfied.

"Good girl." His hand slid up my back. "Good f*****g girl."

---

Back in Suite 3402: 12:40am.

He didn’t pass out.

He sat on the edge of the bed.

Tie gone.

Shirt open.

Watching me like I was the problem and the solution.

"Chapter 17," he said. Voice rough. "The night I stopped pretending."

He stood. Crossed the room.

Cupped my face with both hands.

Thumbs brushing my cheeks.

"I don’t care who sees." His voice broke a little. "I don’t care who knows. I don’t care if your brother disowns you. If the company fires me. If the world burns."

"You’re mine, Maya. In Lagos. In Abuja. In hell. Everywhere."

Then he kissed me again.

Slower this time.

Drunk, but careful.

Like he was afraid if he was too rough, I’d break.

Like he was afraid if he was too soft, I’d leave.

His hands in my hair.

My hands on his chest.

Feeling his heart hammering.

When we broke apart, we were both shaking.

He pressed his forehead to mine.

"Tomorrow we go home."

"Okay."

"And tomorrow, your brother finds out."

My blood ran cold.

"Damian—"

"Shh." He pulled me into bed with him. Didn’t ask. "Sleep. You’re safe. With me."

I should have fought it.

Should have slept on the floor.

I didn’t.

I fell asleep in his arms.

To the sound of his heart beating against mine.

And the knowledge that by morning, everything would change.

The last thing I heard him whisper:

"I warned you I always catch what I chase."

*End of chapter 17*