CEO's Obsession

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding. I stepped out, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor of the top level with a confidence I didn’t feel. Everything here screamed power—glass walls, cold lighting, silence that somehow felt expensive. I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder and forced myself forward. “Name?” the receptionist asked without looking up. Tall, blonde, sharp-eyed. Even her voice sounded intimidating. “Lana Chen. I’m here for the secretary position interview.” A pause. God, I was going to pass out from nerves. This was my first interview since graduation. The receptionist finally looked at me properly, like she was deciding whether I belonged on this floor or had wandered into the wrong building by mistake. I hated that look. “Go in,” she said after a moment, pointing toward the double doors. “He’s waiting.” He. My fingers tightened around the file in my hands. I had read about him before coming here. Rowan Volkov. CEO of Volkov Enterprises. Billionaire. Ruthless. Untouchable. A man known for wasting neither words nor patience. I pushed the doors open. The office was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city skyline, sunlight reflecting against black marble and dark wood. And at the center of it all—behind a massive desk—sat Rowan Volkov himself. My breath caught. Still handsome. Those green eyes were the same ones I had fallen for years ago. At six-foot-four, he looked less like a man and more like a wall impossible to move. Broad shoulders. Sharp jawline. Control radiating from every inch of him. Stop it, Lana. Remember what he did. But something about him had changed. He looked harder now. Colder. Like life had carved something dangerous into him. His gaze lifted from the papers in front of him. And landed on me. Silence filled the room. Not awkward silence. The dangerous kind. I forced myself to walk closer. “Good morning, Mr. Volkov. I’m here for the secretary interview.” He didn’t answer immediately. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Then— “You’re late.” His voice was calm. Too calm. Like he’d already known I was coming. My grip tightened on the file. “I was told to arrive at ten. It’s—” “I know what time it is,” he interrupted. The room went still. Then he leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes never leaving mine. “Sit.” One word. A command, not a request. I hesitated for half a second before lowering myself into the chair across from him. My heartbeat thundered so loudly I was afraid I’d miss his next words. But Rowan kept staring at me. Not casually. Intently. Like he was studying something only he could see. Finally, he picked up my file and flipped it open. Silence stretched again. I tried to steady my breathing. This was just an interview. Just a job. Nothing more. But every instinct in my body disagreed. Because the way he looked at me… It felt personal. Dangerously personal. Rowan closed the file. “Lana Chen,” he said slowly, like he was testing the name on his tongue. My stomach tightened. “Yes.” Another pause. Then— “You’re hired.” I blinked. “I’m sorry?” He stood. Slowly. The movement alone made the room feel smaller. “I said,” he repeated, voice lower now, “you’re hired.” I frowned. “Mr. Volkov, I think there’s been some misunderstanding. You haven’t even interviewed me yet.” “I don’t need to.” That made me go still. Rowan walked around the desk, stopping only a few feet away from me. Close enough for me to feel the full force of his presence. Controlled. Cold. Unshakable. “You’ll start today,” he said. I stood immediately. “No.” For the first time, something shifted in his expression. Not surprise. Something darker. Recognition. Like he’d been expecting me to refuse. “Interesting,” he murmured. I frowned. “What is?” He tilted his head slightly, studying me. And when he spoke again, his voice changed. Not softer. More personal. “Still the same,” he said quietly. “Still walking away the second things stop going your way.” I froze. That sentence hit something buried deep inside my chest. A memory I didn’t want to touch. I forced myself to stay calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A faint, humorless smile crossed his face. “No,” he agreed. “You never did.” Silence settled between us again. But this silence felt heavier. Rowan walked back to his desk, picked up a pen, and signed a document without looking away from me. “Your contract,” he said. “Secretary. Effective immediately.” I stared at him. “This isn’t normal hiring procedure.” “No,” he said simply. “It isn’t.” I took a step back. “I refuse.” That finally made him pause. Slowly, he placed the pen down before looking at me again. Really looking at me. And something in his eyes darkened. “You came here because you needed a job,” he said calmly. “I came here for an interview,” I corrected. A beat passed. “You needed money,” he said. “I needed a secretary. Problem solved.” “That’s not how this works.” Rowan stepped toward me again. One step. Then another. Until there was barely any space left between us. “You were always brave when it came to refusing me.” My breath caught. Old memories stirred violently inside me—memories I had spent years trying to bury. Then he leaned slightly closer. Not enough to touch me. Just enough to trap me in the intensity of him. And God— He still looked devastating up close. I caught myself staring before quickly looking away. “What are you talking about?” I whispered. A brief smirk touched his lips before disappearing completely. Something darker replaced it. Pain. Anger. Maybe both. Then he stepped back suddenly, like he’d almost crossed a line he wasn’t supposed to. “You’re hired,” he repeated coldly. My pulse raced. “I’m not accepting this.” Rowan picked up another document casually. “I don’t give people choices when I already know the outcome.” My stomach tightened. “That’s not how the world works.” That made him pause again. Slowly, he looked back at me over his shoulder. And when he spoke this time, his voice was quieter. Controlled. But somehow even more dangerous. “It does in mine.” Silence stretched between us. Then Rowan picked up the contract and placed it at the edge of the desk. “Read it,” he said. “Sign it. Or don’t. But you’ll realize very quickly that turning this job down would be a mistake.” I stared at him, speechless. And for the first time since walking into this office, something unfamiliar rose inside my chest. Not fear. Not confusion. Something worse. Because deep down… Some part of me already knew the truth. This wasn’t an interview. This wasn’t a coincidence. And Rowan Volkov— Was never going to let me go again.