His Only Obsession

Chapter 6

Nolan

The office was pristine, polished, and cold—just like I liked it. I stood by the large windows overlooking the city, adjusting the cufflinks on my shirt as I listened to Matilda run through the schedule.

“She’ll arrive at 9:30. You have a team meeting at 10, lunch with the investors at 1, and a one-on-one with her at 3 to discuss her role.”

I smiled faintly at that last part.

“Make sure she sits in the far seat during the meeting. Isolated.”

Matilda blinked.

“You want her separated from the team?”

“I want her to understand exactly where she stands.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Understood.”

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, I let the smile slip. My chest felt tight with anticipation—not nerves, not quite—but something heavier. Something sharper.

Let’s see how long that fire in her eyes lasts.

---

Isabella

I adjusted my blazer one last time before stepping out of the elevator. The company lobby was sleek, every inch of it screaming wealth and efficiency. I could feel the eyes—people sizing me up, wondering if I belonged.

Good. Let them wonder.

I walked up to the reception with practiced ease.

“Isabella Davenport. First day.”

The receptionist smiled politely and gestured toward the sleek security gate.

“Of course. Mr. Goldmann is expecting you.”

Of course he is.

As I walked toward the glass office space, I caught sight of him through the transparent walls. Nolan stood like a villain out of a modern noir, framed by sunlight, hands in his pockets, smirking like he already owned the day.

Our eyes met.

A flicker. A pulse. A war cry disguised in stillness.

He didn’t move. Neither did I.

Then I forced myself to look away first, because I wasn’t here to challenge him in public. Not yet.

But in private?

Oh, I had plans.

---

Nolan

She walked in like she owned the place. Or at least like she’d fake it well enough until she did. Head held high, chin tilted up, that same spark in her eyes that once drove me mad with want.

Now it just made me want to rip it away.

I stayed silent as she approached. Matilda introduced her to the room, but I barely heard her voice. I was watching Isabella’s posture, her restraint, the small twitch in her fingers when someone handed her a notepad.

She was trying so damn hard not to flinch in my presence.

I leaned back in my chair and smiled.

“Glad you could make it, Ms. Davenport.. I trust the pay was to your satisfaction?”

She didn’t smile back.

“I’ve always been expensive, Mr. Goldmann. You knew that.”

My grin widened.

“Believe me, I haven’t forgotten.”

Let the games begin.

Isabella

By 3 PM, I’d already learned two things:

One, Nolan Goldmann had a god complex.

Two, everyone was too afraid to challenge it.

The day passed in a haze of polite introductions and curious glances, most people too smart to bring up why the boss’s new hire didn’t go through the usual channels.

Now, standing outside his office with my fingers curled into fists inside my coat pockets, I wasn’t nervous. Just... tightly wound. Like a match about to strike.

Matilda knocked once, then gestured for me to go in.

Nolan was seated behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, looking way too comfortable for someone who planned to spend the next hour picking me apart.

“Close the door,” he said without looking up.

I did. Slowly.

“Have a seat.”

I sat, crossing my legs carefully.

“So this is the part where you pretend this is about business?”

He chuckled under his breath, finally meeting my eyes.

“Still sharp. Good. I was worried the paycheck might dull your edge.”

I leaned forward slightly.

“You’re not worth softening for.”

Something flickered in his eyes-

amusement, maybe. Or a threat.

“You know, Isabella, most people don’t start their first day with a personal grudge.”

“Most CEOs don’t drag someone into their company just to play power games.”

He stood up then, walked around the desk, and leaned back against it, arms folded.

“I didn’t drag you here. You signed the offer.”

“Because you made it impossible not to,”

I snapped.

“You went around me, got my father involved, used my situation like a puppet string—”

“You insulted me.”

That stopped me.

“What?”

He stepped closer, voice low now.

“You called me arrogant. Mocked the company. Said you’d never work under a man who mistook his last name for a crown.”

I stared at him. “I meant it.”

He smirked.

“I know. That’s what made it stick.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us pulsed with something electric—anger, pride, challenge.

Then he tilted his head.

“Tell me something. Why are you really here?”

I stood, slow and deliberate.

“To learn. To use what I can. And when I leave, I’ll make sure whatever I build is big enough that you regret giving me a desk in the first place.”

His jaw flexed, just once. “Good.”

He stepped aside, back to the window, and didn’t look at me again.

“You can go.”

I opened the door without hesitation. But just before I stepped out, I turned my head, just enough so he could hear—

“You think this is a game, Goldmann. But I don’t lose.”

Then I left.

Nolan

The door clicked shut, and I didn’t move.

Not for a full minute.

The scent of her perfume still lingered faintly in the air, something subtle but sharp, like her. The nerve she had—walking into my office, throwing threats like she already had the upper hand.

I liked it.

I hated that I liked it.

I turned back to the desk and pressed a button on the phone.

“Matilda, get me Adrian.”

A moment later, his voice crackled through the speaker.

“What’s up?”

“She’s exactly how I remember. But more dangerous now.”

“Dangerous?” Adrian repeated.

“She hasn’t even started yet.”

“She will,”

I said, eyes narrowing.

“And she’s not just here for the job. She’s here to prove something. I want full access to her work schedule, project teams, comms—everything she touches, I want eyes on it.”

The other line fell silent..

"Mr Goldmann? Are obsessed with her? "

My movement froze and I blinked blankly.. No f*****g way I'm obsessed with her.. I just want to take my revenge on this little birdie..

"I would rather drink rat poison and have a date with grim reaper then being obsessed with her.. "

I spat harshly.. The nerve on my forehead pulsed as my teeth gritted tightly..

"Just do what I told you without asking anything further.. "

It was silent again before he spoke up..

“That’s a lot of effort for someone you claim you’re not obsessed with,” Adrian said dryly.

“She drew blood. Now it’s my turn.”

Third Pov

"No way this happened! "

The old man grumbled as he heard the story.. Both Matilda and Adrian stood in front of him.. Reporting the incident from today..

"You mean.. You grandson, Nolan Goldmann.. Invested this much of his attention on a girl? And that girl in none other than Isabella Davenport? "

Elder master Goldmann said with amusement about thus shocking news.. Both of them nodded.. He fell into thought..

"She.. She is a Davenport? George Davenport? His family? "

He asked and Adrian passed him the file..

"Yes sir.. "

As he glanced at the file, a laugh broke out..

"Oh it's gonna be interesting.. Davenport and Goldmann together? Sounds like Mongoose vs Cobra "

The elder Goldmann leaned back in his chair, tapping the edge of the file against his knee. A nostalgic gleam flickered in his eyes—a spark that had nothing to do with business, and everything to do with legacy.

“So it begins,” he murmured.

“Just like their ours.”

Matilda shifted slightly, glancing at Adrian who wore the expression of someone who definitely knew better than to ask.

The old man’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk now.

“George Davenport… always had a temper. Stubborn, sharp-tongued, brilliant when he wasn’t trying to destroy himself. And Nolan?” He chuckled.

“Too much of me in that one. That’s the real danger.”

Adrian cleared his throat.

“Should we keep watch, sir?”

“No,” Elder Goldmann said, voice firm.

“Let them clash. Let them burn each other if they must. It’ll shape them. Either they rise from it…”

He paused, eyes narrowing as he looked out the window,

“...or one of them ends up ruined.”

He waved his hand toward the door.

“Keep reporting. But don’t interfere. This is no longer about business.”

As they left, the old man whispered to himself, voice carrying a strange fondness laced with warning—

“Cobra and mongoose, indeed. But people forget one thing… sometimes they don’t kill each other. Sometimes, they dance.”