Obsession - Erotic love story

Chapter 2

Reece

Reece's sleek black car cut through the wet streets, the city lights reflecting off the glistening asphalt. Inside, he sat in silence, staring out the window, his mind lost in thought. The city outside had never felt so distant, so trivial, compared to the focus that now consumed him. Jasmine Vaughn.

The meeting he was on his way to—another merger, another business deal worth millions—no longer held his attention like it used to. The game of wealth and power had once thrilled him, but now, something else had taken its place. Jasmine, the bookstore clerk with a smile that lit up the simplest of moments, had captured his every thought.

He could still see her face, the way her brown eyes had flickered nervously when she apologized for the ice cream mess. How she had tried to clean him off without realizing she had already left an indelible mark on him. That day, she had gone back to her life as if nothing had happened. But Reece—he hadn't been able to forget.

The car pulled up in front of the towering skyscraper where his meeting was being held. As the driver opened the door for him, Reece stepped out, adjusting his tie and slipping back into the familiar role of a billionaire businessman. On the surface, nothing was different. He was calm, composed, every inch the man the world expected him to be. But underneath, something was unraveling.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Hours later, Reece was back in his office at the top of the tower. The city stretched out beneath him, a kingdom he had built with his own hands. But tonight, the power of his empire didn't satisfy him. It wasn't enough.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the soft glow of his desk lamp. The photos of Jasmine were neatly tucked away in the drawer, but he didn't need them. Every detail of her face was etched into his mind. Her laughter, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, her soft voice.

His computer pinged softly, signaling the arrival of an encrypted message from his assistant. Reece moved to his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard as he opened the file. Information about Jasmine appeared in front of him—details he had requested with a casual order earlier that day.

Jasmine Vaughn, 26 years old. Works at a small independent bookstore on the corner of 6th and Maple. No significant relationships, lives in a modest apartment a few blocks from her workplace. Frequent haunts: the café next to the bookstore, a local park, occasional trips to the public library.

Reece stared at the screen, reading each line carefully. She was so... ordinary. And yet, there was something about her that gripped him in a way nothing else ever had. He couldn't quite place it, but the more he learned, the deeper his obsession grew. He wanted to know everything about her. What she thought about when she was alone, what her favorite books were, what made her laugh and what made her cry.

His phone buzzed, pulling him momentarily from his thoughts. It was his assistant, Vincent.

"Mr. Scott," Vincent's voice came through crisp and professional. "I've compiled the information you requested. I also took the liberty of finding out more about the people in her life."

"Good," Reece replied, his voice cold and steady. "Send it over."

"Already done, sir. Is there anything else you need?"

Reece paused, considering his next words carefully. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared out into the night sky.

"Yes," he said finally. "I want to know where she'll be tomorrow. Her schedule. Track her movements."

Vincent hesitated for only a second, then responded, "Understood. I'll have that information to you by morning."

Reece ended the call and stood up, the quiet of his office amplifying the pounding of his heartbeat. It was a strange feeling—this obsession. It wasn't love, not in the traditional sense. It was more like a need. He had to know her, had to bring her into his world. He had no interest in what Jasmine might think of this. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, and what he wanted now was her.

He thought back to the brief exchange they'd had that day on the street. The way she had looked at him, embarrassed but sweet, unguarded. She didn't know who he was, didn't care about his wealth or power. And that, in some twisted way, only made him more fascinated.

Jasmine Vaughn had walked into his life by accident, but Reece wasn't one to believe in accidents. He believed in control, in precision. If she had come into his world, it was because she was meant to be there.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The next morning, the sky was clear, the air crisp and cool after the previous night's rain. Reece sat at his breakfast table, the file on Jasmine spread out in front of him as he sipped his coffee. His assistant had been thorough. Jasmine's day was already mapped out: she would leave her apartment around 8:30, stop by the café for her usual coffee, then head to the bookstore for her shift.

Reece glanced at his watch. It was 7:45. He still had time.

The pull was irresistible. He knew he shouldn't get any closer, not yet. But the desire to see her, to watch her in her natural state, was overpowering.

By 8:15, Reece was in his car, parked a safe distance from Jasmine's apartment building. He watched as the door to her building opened, and there she was—Jasmine, with her dark hair and floral blue dress flowing slightly as she hurried down the steps, a tote bag slung over her shoulder. She looked just as she had in the photos, but seeing her in real life, her movements, her expressions—it was different. It was intoxicating.

She didn't notice him, of course. How could she? To her, he was just a stranger, a fleeting memory from that awkward day when she'd spilled ice cream on him. But to Reece, she was quickly becoming the center of his world.

He followed her from a distance, watching as she ordered her coffee, her smile quick and polite as she thanked the barista. She moved with a quiet confidence, unaware of the invisible thread now tying her life to his.

Reece didn't need to approach her. Not yet. This was enough for now—just to observe, to know that she was real, that she existed outside of the photos and the information he had gathered.

But soon, he knew, it wouldn't be enough. Soon, he would want more.