Ruthless Obsession

Chapter Eight: A Deal with the Devil—Denied

Chapter Eight: A Deal with the Devil—Denied

The pen in her hand was a shackle.

She scowled at the contract in front of her—Julian's twisted version of control, a leash disguised as a contract.

Her signature on that line would be surrender.

Would be belonging to him.

Her chest tightened. He knew she would sign. That was what made her most angry.

She took a harsh breath, lifting her eyes. Julian was waiting. Watching. Confident.

And that was his mistake.

"You really believe I'm that easy to break?" she goaded, the pen dropping on the pristine paper.

Julian smiled, a black flash of humor in his green eyes. "Oh, honey," he breathed, coming nearer, fingers outlining her jaw. "I don't break. I acquire."

His fingers were gentle, stroking. A warning.

Naomi's heart thudded.

Then—she laughed.

She laughed in his face.

"You're hallucinating," she told him, rising from the chair. "You think you were with me one night would be enough to erase who you are?"

Julian arched an eyebrow. "And what are you, Naomi?"

She leaned in, her breath touching his lips.

"A woman belongs to no man."

And with that—she disappeared.

Not a word was spoken.

The room was hers.

Freedom is Just Another Lie

The night was young, and Naomi was not going to waste it indulging a man who thought he could own her.

So she did what she did best.

She drowned herself in sin.

Another club. Another man. Or two.

Drinks burned down her throat, hands wandered over her body, and Naomi let them.

She was reckless. She was dangerous. She was a hurricane of destruction wrapped in red silk.

And in the recesses of her mind, she knew Julian observed.

She felt him as a storm on the horizon, a shadow hovering past the neon smog.

Good.

Let him watch.

Let him understand that she couldn't be trapped.

The Devil Doesn't Like to Lose

It wasn't until she staggered out of the club that the world began spinning.

She didn't make it halfway through the alley before a hard hand wrapped around her wrist.

A grip she knew.

Fire coursed up her spine. She didn't even have to turn around.

"Didn't take you for a stalker," she whispered.

Julian hauled her against him, his breath burning in her ear.

"Didn't take you for a w***e," he whispered back.

Naomi's fingers flexed on his chest, hard. Experimental.

He didn't even blink.

"Jealous?" she provoked.

Julian chuckled. Dark. Amused. Deadly.

"No, sweetheart," he breathed. "Just disappointed."

Naomi's chest squeezed.

Because somehow, that was worse.

His fingers trailed down her arm, slow and controlled. A promise. A threat.

"You can run all you want," he breathed. "I'll still be waiting."

She should have shoved him away.

Instead, she swallowed hard and smirked.

"Then you'll be waiting a long time, Saint Clair."

And so easily, she slid away from him.

But freedom also comes with a price tag.