BOUND BY OBSESSION

Dylan

The night air was cool against my skin as I stepped into my car but my mind was still burning with the memories of her. Hermione Vale. Tall, poised and utterly captivating.

At 5'9, she was the perfect height just enough to meet my gaze without craning her neck yet still petite compared to my 6'2 frame. When we had stood close at the party, it was as if she had been made to fit against me. I had felt it in the way the air tightened between us, in the way her presence stirred something dark inside me. 

She wasn't just beautiful. She was sharp. A woman like that did not get to where she was without a mind just as striking as her features. A lawyer, precise, calculated, and disciplined. I had known men who built empires with their hands, and I had known men who tore them down with a signature on a contract, Hermione was the latter. A woman who could dismantle kingdoms with a well- placed legal argument. Her reputation precedes her.

That should have warmed me up but instead it intrigued me and then there was the way she looked tonight. A golden black dress, smooth, and fitted hugging the curves tried too hard to downplay. It wasn't revealing she was far too controlled for that-but the way the fabric clung to her made it impossible to ignore the shape of her waist and the elegant slope of her hips.

The hem stopped just at her knees, long enough to be modest but short enough to tease. 

And those legs.

long , Toned, confident that is the only definition of them.

She had walked in stilettos as if they were an extension of her body- dark, red the same shade as the lipstick she wore.

A statement, she was self assured, aware of the effect she had but uninterested in paying any expectation. Her pause, structured and sleek, was deep burgundy leather minimalistic, expensive, and effortlessly elegant.

A woman who knew her worth. A woman who dresses with purpose.

But it wasn't just about the clothes, the shoes, or the pause. It was her.

The way she carried herself head high, shoulders back, every movement deliberate. I had watched her for the entirety of the night, noting the way she spoke with precision, Never wasting a word.

She had held my gaze for longer than most dared to. And when she had walked away, she had done so slowly, swinging her sexy as hell hip to me.controlled, not in a rush not running.

Now sitting in the dim interior of my car, my jew clenched. She was under my skin. I didn't like things i could not control

I pulled out my phone, fingers tightening around it before dialing the only number that mattered right now.

"Find out everything you can about Hermione vale", I ordered 

"Right away Mr. Voss"

I hung up before I could say more. No point in wasting time. Hermione Vale was going to be mine. Whether she liked it or not

The next day, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I needed to see her again. It wasn't just curiosity; it was something deeper. Something darker. 

The restaurant where I'd asked her to meet me was an old favorite of mine. The ambiance was private, secluded, perfect for the kind of conversations I wanted to have. I didn't trust easily, and the fewer eyes there were on me, the better. 

I arrived early, as always, and waited. My thoughts kept drifting to Hermione—her cool detachment, her brilliant mind, and that moment when I caught the flicker of something beneath her composed exterior.

 When she walked in, everything else in the room faded away. She was tall, and for a moment, I wondered how someone so poised could manage to command every ounce of attention without even trying.

 Her long legs, dressed in dark trousers, carried her effortlessly toward me, and though she made no grand gestures, there was an undeniable pull in the air when she stepped into my space. She wasn't just a woman. She was a force.

 She sat down across from me, and for a second, I thought I saw a flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes—a hesitation, a doubt. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, and I found myself wondering if I'd imagined it.

 "You're late," I said, my tone sharp, my gaze never leaving hers. 

"I'm not late," she replied, meeting my eyes with a defiance I was starting to find irresistible. "I'm on time. You just have a skewed perception of punctuality."

 I allowed a small smile to form on my lips. She wasn't like the others. Her wit, her confidence—everything about her was a challenge. And I wasn't used to being challenged.

 "I'll let that slide, Ms. Vale. For now," I said, settling back in my chair.

 I could see her discomfort beneath the surface. She was on guard, as if trying to figure me out. I had no doubt that she was thinking about how she could escape, how she could leave this situation unscathed. But she didn't realize it yet that there was no walking away from me. I watched as she picked up the menu, pretending to read it, her movements quick and purposeful, but I could see it in her eyes. She wasn't here for the food. She was here because she couldn't help but be drawn into whatever this was between us. 

"So," she said, setting the menu down, her voice cutting through the silence, "I'm assuming you didn't ask me here for the food."

 I leaned forward slightly, my gaze never leaving hers. "No. I wanted to talk." Her brow furrowed slightly.

 "About what, exactly?"

 I leaned in closer, my voice dropping an octave, letting the tension between us build."About you," I said, letting the weight of the words sink in. "I've been thinking about our last conversation."

 Her lips parted, and I could see the shift in her demeanor—the subtle way her shoulders tensed, as if bracing herself for whatever came next.

 "Is that so?" she asked, her voice steady but with a touch of defiance.

 "Your response," I said, my tone lower now. "You said you weren't afraid of me. And I find that… intriguing."

 Her eyes flashed with something I couldn't quite place. Anger? Disdain? Or maybe even curiosity?.

 "I'm not afraid of you," she shot back, but I could hear the slight quiver in her voice. She was lying to herself, and I could hear it. 

"But that doesn't mean I'm interested in whatever it is you're offering," she added, her tone cutting.

 I couldn't help but smirk at that. Her resistance was... adorable. But it wouldn't last long. 

"That's where you're wrong, Hermione," I said, my voice commanding.

 "You're already involved. Whether you want to be or not." I watched as her lips parted in shock, her eyes narrowing slightly. The hint of doubt was there, in the way her breath caught. But she wasn't ready to admit it yet.

 "I'm not involved in anything, Mr. Voss," she said, though I could see the hesitation in her eyes. "I'm here because you asked me to be." 

I leaned back in my chair, eyes never leaving hers. "That's true. But trust me, you'll find it difficult to walk away from this." 

Her defiance only made me want her more. She wasn't the type to fall in line, and I respected that. But it also meant she was going to be more of a challenge than I'd initially expected. And I wasn't used to losing. 

Hermione exhaled sharply, her patience visibly thinning. "You really are full of yourself, aren't you?"

I smirked, enjoying the fire in her eyes. "I'm just stating facts."

She let out a humorless laugh and shook her head. "You think because you have money, power, and whatever twisted sense of control you thrive on, you can decide what happens in my life?"

"I don't think," I said, leaning forward. "I know."

That was it. Her entire posture changed—shoulders stiffening, jaw clenching, eyes flashing with pure fury. She didn't just look annoyed. She looked livid.

Hermione pushed her chair back abruptly, the sound sharp against the marble floor. A few people glanced in our direction, sensing the tension thick in the air.

"You're delusional, Mr. Voss." She grabbed her purse, her movements controlled but clipped. "Whatever this game is that you think you're playing, I'm not a part of it."

She turned to leave, but I wasn't done. "We'll see about that," I said, my voice low, almost amused.

She paused just for a second, her back still to me. Then, without another word, she strode out of the restaurant, her heels clicking against the floor, her anger trailing behind her like a storm.

I watched her disappear through the doors, a slow smile forming on my lips.

She could run all she wanted.

But she wasn't going anywhere.