THE BILLIONAIRE'S OBSESSION (OBSESS BILLIONAIRE BOOK 1)

xi driver's voice broke thr

car had already come to a s

l loomed before her, its golden lights shimmering against the night sky. It l

she would sel

urge to cry clawed at her throat, but she swal

father was co

called again, conc

hands. She handed him the fare and stepped out of the taxi, her

ne and freshly polished marble filled her lungs, making her lightheaded. She forced herself to wal

ve her

the way they slid the key card across the counter made her sto

y k

uld fe

squared her shoulders, snatched the k

vator. Cold sweat formed at the back of her neck. She

ed the suite, nausea

hesi

en her and the decision s

this moment. And yet, she still felt

zed her e

d now, what would h

no on

no other

her hands to steady long enough t

ic

d made h

golden light. Cool air from the air-conditioning brush

he steppe

g her in its opulence. But he

e

y large, and draped

ant for

mach cl

she bit down on her lip, trying

ck shattered

r heart nearly leap

oor o

entered, carrying a silver t

he greeted, his tone ne

er room service

e brought to you," the man explain

hitched a

re

was he

et. A man who now own

glass. She hesitated, then lifted it

his wou

mb the fear clawi

ed the entire glass in one go, fee

tly and exited, leavin

suite, forcing hersel

windows, staring blankly at the city

ormal lives, completely unaware of the girl st

er lips as she wrapped

who was coming

s face, his vo

, her he

ed violently as h

ng for the glass wal

realization c

h

ing wa

n't from the air conditioning. It was something deeper-something unnatural. It felt as though she had

reaths grew shallow, each one catching in her throat like shards of glass

he creeping dread suffocating her. But the soft creak o

gure step

the sharp cut of his suit, the way he carried himself-powerful, deliberate. The dim l

ide her twist

nt instinct to flee. But then real

. She had already

reath, she forced he

action somehow more intimate than it sho

roared i

angry if s

ybe it was his silence. Or maybe it was his eyes-those gray de

is voice was deep, rough, ed