Obsessed

Chapter Two – Collision

( Selena pov )

Morning came, but it didn’t feel like morning. The light was wrong, pale and cold, the kind that makes everything look like a memory. I hadn’t slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that message again: You’re being watched. It didn’t matter that I’d double-locked the door or left the hallway light on like a child afraid of monsters. The fear wasn’t outside anymore. It was in me. Still, life has a cruel way of pretending nothing happened. The city didn’t care that my world had shifted. The bakery downstairs still smelled of butter and burnt sugar. The neighbors still argued through the walls. So I did what I always did when panic threatened to swallow me. I went out with my camera.

Paris was gray, moody, and beautiful in its decay. I lost myself in the rhythm of footsteps, in the click of the lens. For a few stolen moments, I felt almost normal. Until I saw him. At first, it didn’t seem possible. He shouldn’t have been here, among the noise and light of an ordinary day. Dominic Moreau didn’t belong in sunlight. Yet there he was standing near the fountain at Saint-Sulpice, tailored coat dark against the drizzle, speaking quietly to a man I didn’t recognize. My pulse stumbled. He looked different now. Less untouchable. More real. But the moment his gaze lifted and met mine across the square, that illusion shattered.

The world narrowed just eyes, breath, distance. He didn’t look surprised to see me. He looked like he’d been waiting. I turned away too fast, pretending to adjust my lens, heart hammering. My instincts screamed and ran , but my body didn’t move. When I dared to glance back, he was gone. Or so I thought. A voice, low and smooth, came from behind me. “You shouldn’t point your camera at strangers, Selena.”

I spun around. He was standing close too close to the faint trace of rain on his coat, that same calm power radiating off him. “How do you know my name?” I managed, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be. He smiled, not kindly. “You told me. The moment you took that picture.” He studied me like a puzzle, eyes dark and unreadable. “You’re bold,” he said softly. “But curiosity can be dangerous when you don’t know who’s watching.” And then a pause, deliberate, electric.

“Walk with me.” It wasn’t a request. It was an invitation shaped like a command. And though I knew I should refuse, every cell in me leaned toward yes. She didn’t run. Most people do when they feel the air shift around me. Selena froze instead. She turned toward me with wide, cautious eyes that still managed to hold mine. Fear lived there, yes, but also something sharper curiosity fighting against instinct. I stepped closer, slowly enough to make it her choice whether to stay. She stayed.

Up close, she wasn’t the intruder I’d imagined in the dark hours of the night. She was smaller, younger, and far too unguarded for the world she had wandered into. Her camera hung against her chest like a shield that would never stop a real blow. “You shouldn’t point your lens at people you don’t understand,” I said. She swallowed. “And you shouldn’t watch people without their permission.”

That almost made me smile. Defiance in a whisper. “Touché.” Rain gathered in the strands of her hair. I could have told her to go home, to forget, to stay safe but I didn’t. Instead I heard myself ask, quietly, “Why did you take the picture?” She hesitated. “Because I thought I saw something worth remembering.” A simple answer. A dangerous one. For a moment we stood in silence while the city blurred behind us. She didn’t look away, and I found myself wondering if she even understood the kind of world she’d stepped into.

I finally said, “I think you already know you can’t keep what you found. But I’d rather show you why than make you guess.” Her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?” “It means,” I said, offering my hand but not quite touching her, “you have a choice. Walk away, or find out what you’ve started.” The wind carried the sound of church bells from across the square. She didn’t take my hand, but she didn’t move away either.

That was enough for now. Selena I didn’t take his hand. But I didn’t walk away, either. For a moment, we just stood there the sound of rain filling the silence between us. His eyes were unreadable, but his presence felt like gravity, pulling at the air, at my breath, at the small, trembling part of me that didn’t know whether to run or stay. When he finally turned and walked away, the city seemed to breathe again. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my own breath until the world came rushing back to the fountain, the footsteps, the faint hum of traffic.

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm the wild rhythm there. My camera still hung from my neck, but suddenly it felt useless as a toy in a game I didn’t understand. Who was he really? Not just the billionaire everyone whispered about, but the man who could appear out of nowhere, say my name, and make the ground beneath my life shift.

I wanted to tell myself I was imagining it all: the break-in, the note, the way he’d looked at me like I was both a threat and a secret. But denial doesn’t stop curiosity. It only feeds it. I walked for nearly an hour without realizing where my feet were taking me. Through narrow streets, past shuttered cafés, until I found myself near the river. The water moved slowly, reflecting the gray sky above. I stared into it and thought about his words.

Walk away, or find out what you’ve started. It wasn’t just a warning. It was a door. And every part of me that should’ve been afraid wanted to know what waited on the other side. When I finally looked up, I noticed a car parked across the street black, tinted windows, engine idling though no one was inside. I felt that same hum in the air again, that same awareness. And I knew this wasn’t over.

It had only just begun. Dominic She didn’t take my hand. Good. A woman who obeys too quickly never interests me. I watched her leave through the mist, her silhouette reflected in the wet stones of the square. Each step away from me only made her presence stronger like music fading into silence but refusing to disappear.

“She’s gone,” Victor said beside me.

He had followed, of course. My shadow always does. “Not far enough,” I murmured. He shifted. “Do you want her to follow?” I gave him a look. He knew the answer. A discreet nod, a phone call, and the machine turned quietly beneath the surface of the city. A car started down the street minutes later, black, unmarked, patient.

I didn’t want her harmed. Not yet. I wanted to understand her. The world I built runs on precision people, numbers, motives. But she didn’t fit any pattern. She didn’t bend to the rhythm I expected. And that was dangerous. Because unpredictability can ruin empires. Or make them feel alive. I leaned against the railing near the fountain, watching the last trace of her vanish into the crowd. She would tell herself it was a coincidence. She would try to forget. And in doing so, she would remember me more.

That’s how it starts. Victor’s voice broke the quiet. “You think she’ll come to you willingly?” I turned my gaze toward the river, the wind tugging at my coat. “Everyone comes willingly,” I said softly. “Some just take longer to realize it.” A small truth, simple and cruel. I walked away before the rain could wash the thought from the air.