Curve Appreciation
TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of emotional abuse, physical abuse, and toxicity.
"You have no idea what you're doing to me, Dahlia... and I intend to show you, inch by delicious inch."
His hand was still gripping my waist...
Italian man. 6 feet 9, large, tall and strong frame. Very protective, almost obsessive. 38 years old. Has a daughter from a previous marriage, is a widower. from New York and moved to Boston to expand his businesses. He is a very important business mogul and a very dangerous Don.
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Shadows of Obsession.
The city skyline stretched out before me in my penthouse office. Boston was different from New York, less crowded, more self-contained, but the rhythm of power, of money, was the same. I could smell it in the air, taste it in every deal I brokered, every handshake that hid a thousand truths. I leaned back in my chair, fingers drumming lightly on the glass of whiskey at my desk. Marco's voice crackled through the secure line of my office phone. "The interview went as expected. She's competent. Quick. She has that spark you were hoping for."
"Good," I said quietly. My voice sounded calm, measured, even though I could feel the weight of everything I had built every risk, every secret pressing on my shoulders.
I had seen her file, of course. Dahlia Maxwell. Twenty-four. Brown skin like polished mahogany, a soft curve to her figure that hinted at both strength and softness. The photos didn't do her justice, but they were enough to spark a curiosity in me I hadn't felt in a long time. She was...different.
"She's...something else," Marco said, as if reading my thoughts. "She didn't flinch in that environment. Didn't blink. She's tough."
"She'll need to be," I replied, my voice low. My empire was built on more than just businesses and money. There were things she couldn't know things that would swallow her whole if she wasn't careful.
I took another sip of whiskey, a burning distraction. My world was built on steel and blood. On secrets that could swallow a woman like her whole.
I needed her for the position as my executive assistant, she would be the first line of defense, the one who kept my empire running smoothly while I dealt with the darker parts of my life. She would be my eyes and ears, my shield against the endless demands of power and money.
But as I looked down at her photo again those warm brown eyes, that confident smile, I felt something else stirring. Something dangerous. Possessiveness.
I wanted to own her. To protect her. To keep her so close that no one else could touch her.
I closed my eyes, took a breath. This was exactly what I had sworn to avoid. My heart was a locked vault, the key long lost. I couldn't afford to let anyone in, not after everything I had already sacrificed. Love was a weakness I couldn't afford. But desire? That was different. Desire I could control. Or so I told myself.
