His sinful Obsession

Getting Attention

'It's not that bad, I'm just getting a lift. Nothing will happen. Why am I even overthinking? Frida, stop. Daisy is with you, nothing's gonna be wrong. We'll reach in no time...'

A mess of thoughts churned inside Frida's head, her nerves twisting into knots. She gnawed at her lower lip, a habit she couldn't shake when anxiety clawed at her. Her fingers fidgeted with the fabric of her dress, anything to distract herself from the overbearing presence beside her.

The weight of Rafael's gaze burned into her skin, even without looking she could feel him watching her.

Then, suddenly, warmth ghosted over her neckline. A slow, deliberate heat. The air shifted, thickening.
A presence-too close.
Her breath hitched. A shiver ran down her spine as she subtly tilted her head toward the window, as if to escape. But curiosity, or something far more dangerous, forced her to glance sideways.

Oh God.

Gray.
Deep, dark, the color of a storm swallowing the sky.
Those piercing eyes were inches from hers.
Unwavering. Unreadable.
And so devastatingly intense she felt the weight of them pressing down on her, stealing the air from her lungs. Her pulse thundered against her ribs.

Before she could react, a soft click cut through the heavy silence.
She looked down.
His hands-large, strong, unbearably close-were securing her seatbelt.

Every move was slow, deliberate, calculated.
As he pulled back, his fingers barely skimmed the side of her thigh.
A touch so subtle, yet it burned.
Frida's entire body tensed.
She clenched her legs together, as if to escape the feeling spreading through her.
But he noticed. Oh, he noticed. And he smirked.

"Are you always this forgetful?"
The deep rumble of his voice sent an involuntary shudder through her.
"Huh? NO!" she blurted, eyes widening in disbelief.
She turned away, desperate to escape his presence. "I'm not."
Her voice was breathless, too soft, too affected.
"I just got distracted watching those Annabelle eyes,"
she mumbled under her breath, heat creeping up her neck.

Jesus.

She felt him still beside her, and then-"What?"
A single word. Sharp.
Dangerous.
Her lips quivered. She dared not look at him. Instead, she looked anywhere but him. The car. The dashboard. The road ahead. Anything.

"Address."
The command was curt, his patience thinning.
"Whose?" she asked, her voice coming out softer than intended.
His expression darkened. He gave her a look that screamed, Are you serious?
"Yours, Ms. Annevik"
His voice was lower this time. Rougher.
She swallowed.
"You can drop me at Ella's place, the bakery."

Silence. Then-

"Why? You don't have a home?"

The question was simple. Too simple. Yet it struck something deep within her.
Frida's fingers curled into her lap. Her breath shallowed. A lump formed in her throat.
Did she have a home?
How could she explain to him that home was never just a place-it was where your heart belonged? And her heart... her heart had been buried with her mother.
There was no home. Not for her. She was simply homeless, not by choice but by fate.
Not anymore.
And for some reason, the weight of his question felt heavier than it should.
As if he already knew she had nowhere to go.
As if he was trying to pry into the deepest corners of her secrets, her vulnerabilities.
As if he was ready to dismantle her, piece by piece.

Before Frida could form a response, a soft, sleepy whisper cut through the thick air.
"Fairy?"
She turned swiftly, her heart still caught in the tangle of unspoken words. Daisy's small form shifted in the backseat, her voice drowsy, eyes fluttering open from her nap.
"Hi, baby. You woke up? Want to come sit with me?"
Frida asked, her tone instantly softening.
Before Daisy could answer, Rafael's voice cut through the space like a blade.
"No need. She's good in the back seat. It could be dangerous for a child."
His words were final, resolute.
Frida's brows furrowed, her fingers gripping the hem of her dress.

A slow irritation crawled up her spine.
This man was much more overbearing than she had initially thought-demanding, assertive, unwilling to bend to anyone's will but his own.
The realization settled in her stomach like a heavy weight.
She had always been patient. Always. She rarely let anything or anyone ruffle her composure. But him? He was different. He was relentless. He was getting under her skin.
And that was dangerous.
She swallowed down the urge to snap back, choosing silence instead.
But deep down, she knew-if this man was already testing her limits, then he was someone she should stay far, far away from.

Yet, fate had a twisted sense of humor.
How ironic it was-Frida, desperate to keep her peace, unaware that her world was already unraveling. Like leaves torn from their branches, scattering into the unknown. She would spend a lifetime chasing them, trying to piece together the fragments of her own fate.

Oh, Frida. Are you God's favorite child, blessed with trials to strengthen you?
Or are you the Devil's obsession, forged in darkness, bound by something far more sinister?
Only time would tell.

"You've reached."
The moment the words left his mouth, Frida didn't waste a second. She pushed open the door, stepping out so fast it almost looked like she was fleeing.
"Bye, Daisy," she whispered, planting a quick kiss on the child's forehead before straightening up.
Her eyes flickered to Rafael once-just once-but that brief moment was enough for his unreadable gaze to settle deep inside her, like an imprint she wouldn't be able to shake off.
"Thank you," she muttered, barely above a whisper.
Then she turned, her feet moving on instinct, practically sprinting toward the café.
Away from him.

But even as she reached the door, pushing it open, she could feel it-The weight of his stare.
Unwavering.
Unrelenting.
As if he wasn't done with her yet.
As if this was only the beginning.

A blinding rage flickered in his storm-gray eyes, turning them into churning tempests. Rafael watched as Frida slipped away, her hurried steps carrying her farther and farther from him.
It was like she was trying to erase his presence, pretend he didn't exist.

That didn't sit well with him.
No, it infuriated him.
His fingers curled into tight fists, knuckles straining as his jaw tensed.
She was running.
From him.
He had never-never-allowed that.

The distance she was trying to create, the defiance in her silence, the way she refused to meet his eyes longer than a fleeting second-every single thing about her defiance made his blood simmer.
But it was her eyes that fueled his wrath the most.
The ocean-blue depths, vast and seemingly endless, held something that unsettled him.
They were a lie. A crafted illusion. A deception woven into irises that looked like they could drown men.
And yet, he was the one sinking.
He despised it.
He despised her.

The sheer audacity she had-to make him feel this way, to stir something he never permitted to exist inside him-was maddening.
Rafael didn't take betrayal lightly.
He was a devil forged in shadows, and betrayal was a sin he punished without mercy. Treachery was a dance he would never partake in. If anyone dared cross him, they were met with fire, their screams swallowed by the abyss of his wrath.

And yet, here she was.
A fragile little thing, barely able to look at him for more than ten seconds, yet she was getting under his skin in ways he couldn't comprehend.
Women had thrown themselves at his feet, whispered desperate prayers for his attention. They clawed for him, begged for a sliver of his time. He never cared. Not even once.

Yet this girl-this nobody-had him watching her.
Had him thinking of her.
Had him feeling something far worse than desire.
An obsession was brewing in his veins, dark and relentless, gripping him like a sickness he couldn't shake.
And Rafael loathed it.

A storm was coming.
The skies were blackened, thick with impending chaos, and the winds howled with warning.
But who would be torn apart first?
The little fairy who thought she could escape the devil?
Or the devil himself, unraveling in the wake of her defiance?

One thing was certain-fate was watching, waiting... and it had never been kind.

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