𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 ━ NICHOLAS ALEXANDER CHAVEZ

━━ preview

A PREVIEW. ❞

tangled obsession,
nicholas alexander chavez.

𓊔

IT STARTED A COUPLE weeks ago, those subtle, lingering moments that Celeste had tried to ignore. She’d brushed them off as nothing, forcing herself to believe it was just her imagination. The way Nicholas stood too close, how his fingers grazed hers when he handed her something, or how his eyes would linger on her, watching, waiting.

She told herself it meant nothing. It could mean nothing. Nicholas had a girlfriend—Amelia, her best friend. That was the end of it. But there was something darker in the way his eyes would find her across the set, the intensity of his gaze unsettling, like he was seeing something in her that no one else did. He was always watching, like a predator biding its time, and Celeste had never felt more like prey.

Tonight had been the worst. They had wrapped up late. The crew had left, and Celeste stayed behind to clean up, needing the distraction. She wasn’t ready to go home, wasn’t ready to face the twisted tangle of thoughts that had been eating at her for days. Just as she finished gathering her things, the door creaked open, and there was Nicholas, standing in the doorway, eyes locked on her.

"Why are you always running away?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, almost predatory.

Celeste stiffened, forcing a shaky laugh. "I’m not running, Nicholas. I just... have things to do."

"Things to do?" His voice dripped with derision as he stepped closer. "You think I don’t see what’s happening?"

Her heart pounded in her chest as she took a step back, trying to create distance between them. "You have a girlfriend," she said, her voice weaker than she intended. "You shouldn’t even care."

"But I do," he growled, his eyes dark and unreadable. "And that’s the problem."

He took another step toward her, and she found herself pressed against the wall, trapped. The space between them was suffocating, filled with something heavy and dangerous. His presence consumed the air, leaving no room for escape.

"This isn’t fair," she whispered, her voice trembling. She could feel her skin crawl, her pulse racing as he inched closer.

"Fair?" Nicholas let out a humorless laugh, his breath hot against her neck. "Nothing about this has been fair since the day I met you."

His hand came up, fingers brushing the side of her face, and Celeste flinched. There was nothing soft or caring in his touch—just possession. The need in his eyes was raw, almost animalistic, and it terrified her.

"I’ve watched you," he said, his voice low, barely more than a whisper. "Every single day. You think I don’t know how you feel?"

She shook her head, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "I don’t—"

"Don’t lie to me." His voice turned sharp, cutting through her words. "I see how you look at me. I know you feel it too."

Her body trembled, her mind racing to find a way out, but there was none. The way he was looking at her, like he already owned her—it was suffocating.

"What do you want from me?" she finally choked out, barely above a whisper. She could feel the walls closing in, feel the pressure of his stare crushing her.

"I want you to stop pretending," he said, his voice dark, commanding. His hand slid down, resting against the wall beside her head, trapping her. "Stop pretending that you don’t feel this too."

She shook her head, trying to will herself to move, to push him away. But her body betrayed her, frozen under the weight of his presence. His breath ghosted over her lips, close enough to taste the desperation in the air between them.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice soft but menacing, a dangerous promise lingering in his words. "Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away."

But she couldn’t. The words stuck in her throat, strangled by the twisted fear and something darker—a pull she couldn’t fully understand, a need to break free but unable to summon the strength to do it.

And in that silence, Nicholas’s lips crashed into hers. There was nothing gentle about it. His kiss was hard, consuming, filled with a hunger that terrified her. It was as if he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long, and now that he had her, he wasn’t going to let go.

Celeste’s mind screamed at her to stop, to push him away, but her body wouldn’t move. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, as if he was afraid she might slip away. Every touch was possessive, demanding, and in that moment, she realized this wasn’t about desire. This was about control.

As he kissed her, as his grip tightened, she felt something inside her break. This wasn’t a line being crossed—it was obliterated, burned away by the fire in his touch. And deep down, she knew there was no going back. Nicholas was obsessed. She had been trying to deny it, trying to ignore the signs, but it was too late now. He had made up his mind long before tonight, and he wasn’t going to let her walk away.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark and dangerous, she felt the weight of what had just happened crash down on her.

"This isn’t over," he murmured, his voice sending a chill down her spine. His eyes bore into hers, full of something dark, something possessive. "You know it. I know it."

Celeste stood there, her heart pounding in her chest, fear and confusion swirling inside her. Whatever had just happened, whatever line they’d crossed—she knew one thing for certain.

She was his now. And Nicholas had no intention of letting her go.