Obsession in the shadows

Chapter 6

Aaron’s voice was calm. Low. Deadly.

“Want me to do more?”

✯✯✯

Ariel’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

“I… I…”

The words tangled in her throat, her mind scrambling for something—anything—that would make sense.

Nothing did.

His eyes held hers, steady and unblinking, and that alone stripped her of speech. The longer he stared, the smaller the world became, until there was nothing but the space between them.

Then his gaze drifted downward.

Ariel sucked in a breath.

Heat rushed to her face as his eyes settled on her chest. The bra did nothing to help her—no padding, no structure, just thin netted fabric held together by narrow seams that barely pretended to conceal anything.

Her n*****s hardened instantly.

Red. Obvious.

She felt exposed in a way she never had before.

Her heart slammed violently against her ribcage, fast and uncontrollable. No one had ever made it race like this. Not even Jake. Whatever this was—whatever he stirred in her—it felt different. Dangerous.

That was when the moment shattered.

“President’s daughter making out with her bodyguard.” Jake’s voice rang out, sharp and amused. “Lit.”

Ariel turned sharply.

Jake stood a few feet away, phone raised, screen glowing. Recording.

Aaron gently lowered her down, then stepped back, his expression shifting in an instant. His hands dropped from her as if she burned him.

His eyes snapped to Jake.

Aaron then turned and walked toward him.

“Delete it.”

“I won’t,” Jake said, already turning to leave.

He didn’t get far.

Aaron grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back with brutal precision.

“You’ll regret making me repeat myself.”

“I’m trained in martial arts,” Jake snapped, trying to break free.

Aaron slammed him to the ground.

The sound came next—sharp and sickening.

Snap.

“Ah!!!”Jake screamed.

Ariel didn’t wait. She rushed to the car, grabbed her shirt, and pulled it over herself with shaking hands. When she turned back, Aaron stood upright, Jake’s phone in his hand.

Jake lay on the ground, groaning, clutching his arm at an unnatural angle.

She gave Jake the middle finger.

“Let’s go,” Ariel said tightly.

She flipped Jake off without a second glance and stormed away.

Halfway across the lot, she felt it.

She turned.

Her eyes met Aaron’s.

Something dark flickered there.

She looked away.

“Nice tits.”

The words followed her, low and careless.

Ariel stopped.

Her cheeks burned as she turned and slapped him hard across the face.

“You f**king pervert,” she snapped. “Don’t think you’re special because of what happened earlier.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as they locked onto hers. His hands shot forward—then stopped inches from her.

He pulled back at the last second.

He knew they were being watched. Her father’s men weren’t far, even if they hadn’t seen everything.

“I didn’t force you,” he said coldly. “And you’re lucky I didn’t take it further just to prove how cheap you really are.”

Her hand flew up again.

He caught it midair.

“If you don’t want to be handicapped,” he said quietly, “don’t raise this hand to hit me again.”

The warning slid straight down her spine.

He released her.

She scoffed and stormed off.

Aaron stood there for a moment, breathing slowly, forcing his temper back under control. Rage was the one thing he barely mastered, and it took everything in him not to grab her, strangle her, do something irreversible.

Women were distractions.

Always had been.

Always would be.

Still, he followed her.

Silent. Watchful.

His eyes never leaving her for a second.

EVENING MANSION...

Aaron moved through the hallway in unhurried strides.

A black tank top clung to his skin, still damp from sweat. Blue joggers sat low on his hips, muscles flexing beneath fabric with every step. He’d just finished working out, but the burn in his body did nothing to quiet the restlessness crawling under his skin.

The mansion reacted to him immediately.

Female maids slowed in their tasks. Eyes followed him openly now, whispers slipping from their lips, giggles trailing behind him like an echo. Someone nearly dropped a tray. Another pretended to wipe a spotless surface, staring far too long.

Aaron rolled his eyes.

This place was suffocating.

Too clean. Too quiet. Too controlled.

He wasn’t meant to stay here. He was meant to finish what brought him—kill the president—and disappear without leaving a shadow behind. The longer he remained, the tighter his patience wore.

And the fact that he hadn’t spilled blood in days made his irritation worse. His body remembered violence the way lungs remembered air.

He turned a corner.

A guard stepped into his path.

Aaron stopped without surprise.

He already knew what lay ahead.

“Restricted area,” the guard said firmly.

The corridor behind him led straight to the president’s room.

“Okay,” Aaron replied coolly, turning back without argument.

The guard blinked.

“He didn’t even ask why it’s restricted,” the man muttered under his breath, watching Aaron walk away.

Aaron didn’t need explanations.

He wasn’t strolling.

He was observing.

Every camera.

Every blind spot.

Every man posted where he didn’t belong.

He had the architectural map of the mansion memorized, but blueprints didn’t tell you how many guards stood behind each door or how often they rotated. That was the missing piece—and the reason the mission hadn’t moved forward yet.

“Hey.”

Aaron paused.

Connor jogged up beside him. “You look lost.”

“I’m looking for the kitchen,” Aaron said evenly. “Got a bit hungry.”

Connor chuckled. “You could’ve sent a maid.”

“I prefer knowing my environment,” Aaron replied.

Connor studied him, gaze lingering longer than necessary. “Fair.” A pause. Then, lightly, “Nice physique.”

He reached out, fingers brushing Aaron’s arm.

Aaron glanced down.

The hand dropped instantly.

Connor cleared his throat and gestured ahead. “Kitchen’s this way.”

They walked together in silence.

The kitchen was quiet when they arrived. Stainless steel gleamed under soft lights. Aaron grabbed a bottle of water and drank deeply, the cool liquid grounding him.

Connor’s attention drifted.

Straight to Aaron’s wrist.

A Graff diamond watch.

Subtle. Expensive. Dangerous.

“Why’d you take this job?” Connor asked.

Aaron lowered the bottle, eyes flicking briefly to the watch before meeting Connor’s gaze.

“For the pay,” he said. “And it’s fake, by the way.”

Connor nodded.

He knew better than to question further.

Aaron turned and walked away. This time, Connor didn’t follow.

When he reached his door, his hand was just closing around the handle when the door across the hall opened.

Ariel froze.

Her eyes lifted to him, slow and assessing. She didn’t bother hiding it this time. Her gaze traced his tattoos—ink stretched across skin, disappearing beneath black fabric.

Aaron scoffed softly, unlocked his door, and stepped inside, locking it behind him.

Immediately, something felt wrong.

The air smelled… disturbed.

He moved to the closet and confirmed it. Clothes shifted. Items out of place.

Someone had been digging.

Looking for information.

Too bad for them—nothing dangerous lived here. His real luggage was stored far away, beyond reach.

Aaron showered quickly and changed into an all-black outfit. When he picked up the tablet, the mansion was silent.

11:00 PM.

Ariel was already asleep.

He watched the screen for a moment longer than necessary, then shut it down.

Minutes later, he slipped out of the mansion unnoticed.

Outside, a black car waited.

Engine running.

Aaron got in.

The door shut.

And the car disappeared into the night...