A DANGEROUS OBSESSION

The air in the grand ballroom felt heavier than before. It wasn’t the champagne or the way the chandeliers glowed against the high ceilings—it was him. Damian Wolfe. A man whose presence was as commanding as his reputation, and right now, he was standing at the bar with a woman Lana had never seen before.

A tall, stunning woman, draped in a crimson dress that hugged her curves like it had been made for her. She moved with the kind of confidence that came from knowing she was desired, her manicured fingers trailing along Damian’s exposed collarbone as she leaned in, whispering something into his ear.

Lana clenched her hands into fists, willing herself to look away. It’s none of your business. But her traitorous gaze stayed locked on them.

She had never seen him this… receptive. Sure, Damian was always cold, always unreadable, but something about this woman seemed to loosen his edges like she had once been something more.

Lana exhaled sharply and turned on her heel. She didn’t care. She shouldn’t care.

“Lana?”

She nearly jumped at the voice. Victor Lancaster stood in front of her again, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Mr. Lancaster,” she greeted, quickly masking her emotions.

He chuckled, sipping his champagne. “You look like you need a drink.”

She huffed a small laugh. “I do.”

Victor smirked, offering his arm. “Then dance with me first. I promise I’m a good distraction.”

Lana hesitated for half a second before placing her hand in his. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did need a distraction.

Damian’s POV

Damian wasn’t listening to whatever Victoria was saying. He should’ve known she would show up tonight she always had a way of appearing when it was least convenient.

But right now, his focus was across the ballroom, where Lana’s fingers were tangled in Victor Lancaster’s hand.

A muscle in his jaw twitched as he watched her allow that bastard to lead her to the dance floor. He should have ignored it. He should have looked away.

He didn’t.

He watched, burning with something dangerously close to anger, as Victor placed a hand on Lana’s waist, pulling her in closer.

His grip on his glass tightened. She was mine to deal with. No one else’s.

Victoria’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You’re staring, darling.”

His eyes snapped to hers. She smirked knowingly.

“You’re jealous,” she mused.

Damian scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Victoria chuckled, taking a slow sip of her wine. “You forget, darling, I know you better than most. And that,” she gestured toward the dance floor, “is the look of a man who doesn’t like what he sees.”

Damian rolled his shoulders, setting down his whiskey. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Victoria.”

He didn’t wait for a response before striding across the ballroom.

Lana’s POV

Lana didn’t know if it was the champagne or the music, but she was starting to feel lightheaded. Victor twirled her expertly, keeping her close, his hand pressing against her back just a little too firmly.

“You’re tense,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear.

Lana forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” His fingers brushed over hers. “Or are you too busy thinking about him?”

Lana stiffened.

Victor chuckled darkly. “Ah, I see. That’s a shame. I was hoping to be the reason your heart was racing.”

She was about to pull away when she felt another presence his presence.

Damian.

He was right there, towering over them with that lethal, unreadable expression.

Victor grinned. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Damian extended a hand. “Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a request.

Lana’s heart pounded. She knew refusing him wasn’t an option. With a small nod, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her in.

The second Victor stepped away, the atmosphere changed.

The moment Damian’s hand settled on her waist, Lana forgot how to breathe.

It wasn’t just his touch it was the way he commanded her with it. The way his fingers pressed firmly against the silk of her dress, guiding her in a way that left no room for resistance.

“You shouldn’t be dancing with men like Lancaster,” he murmured, voice low.

Lana forced herself to scoff. “You don’t get to dictate who I dance with.”

His grip on her waist tightened slightly. “I do when you work for me.”

She glared up at him, trying to ignore how ridiculously good he smelled. “That’s not in my contract.”

Damian’s lips twitched. “Consider it a new clause.”

The tension was unbearable. Every step, every shift, brought them closer. She could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the way his pupils darkened.

It was dangerous.

And then she stumbled.

The champagne, the spinning, the intensity of his stare it was too much.

Damian caught her immediately, his grip strong as he steadied her. But in the motion, something shifted her lips barely brushed against his.

A mistake. A fleeting accident.

But it was enough.

Damian stilled. His hand tightened on her waist. Lana barely had time to react before he pulled her in just enough for their lips to collide again this time, on purpose.

It was slow at first. Controlled. But then Damian’s fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.

Lana gasped softly, and he took full advantage, tasting her, consuming her. It was intoxicating, dizzying, nothing like she expected.

She should have pushed him away. She should have.

But she didn’t.

Not until a cold, amused voice broke the moment.

“Well, that was quite the show.”

Lana’s eyes snapped open.

The tall stunning blonde that had been draped on Damian earlier stood a few feet away, watching them with a smirk.

She tilted her head, eyes sharp as she looked directly at Lana.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” she mused. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

And why did Damian look almost… guilty?