Page 33 of Surrendering to the Obsession

Alexander didn’t miss it. His head tilted slightly, a dangerous calm settling over him as he drawled, “If you don’t have anything important to say, you should leave. Your sister-in-law and I are busy.”

He began to close the door.

But Harold caught the door, the impact sharp. “Don’t you have work to do?” he snapped, his voice laced with irritation. “Why are you still here?”

Alexander’s jaw flexed. His eyes narrowed to slits, their calmness now laced with threat. “It’s none of your business,” he said icily. “Leave.”

The next second, the door slammed shut with a hard thud, the sound echoing through the hallway.

Mia jumped, heart racing, her hands curling into her dress. “Mr. Graves!” she burst out, turning toward him in panic. “Why would you say that to him? What if he tells your mother you haven’t gone to work yet? What if she thinks I’m the reason you’re slacking off?!”

Alexander only looked at her with that infuriating, composed calm. The faintest smile touched his lips. His hand came up to her shoulder, his fingers pressing lightly as he caressed her skin with a heated gaze.

“Let him say what he wants,” he murmured, his voice smooth but heavy with something dangerous. His gaze drifted downward until it stopped on her neck. His thumb brushed across her collarbone, grazing the fresh marks he’d left moments ago. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Don’t worry about Harold,” he said softly. “Focus on me.”

Mia frowned, heat rising to her cheeks. “Mr. Graves,” she said, trying to sound stern, “if you don’t go to work, we’ll lose business! I’m already poor—if you go bankrupt too, we’ll end up living on the street!”

Her words spilled out in a rush, anxious and unguarded.

But Alexander didn’t seem to hear a single one. His gaze remained fixed on her throat—on the crimson imprints his lips had carved into her skin. His fingers hovered there again, as though admiring his own work.

Unfocused and tense, Mia fumbled for her phone as she lifted it close to her mouth. “Hey Siri,” she muttered shakily, “how to commit money fraud?”

Alexander ignored her completely, unzipping her dress, lost in his hunger.

Mia’s eyes widened. She turned her head sharply, her pulse thundering as she saw his fingers at her back. “Mr. Graves!” she gasped, breath catching. “You’re not listening to me!”

Her panic spiked, and before she even realized it, her hands flew up, grabbing his face firmly between them. She forced his head down until his eyes met hers. “Look at me!”

Alexander froze. For the first time, his body stilled completely. Her palms were warm against his cold skin, her breath brushing over his lips. For a brief, fragile moment, all the tension between them dissolved into silence—just his heartbeat, her trembling hands, and the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air.

Realizing what she’d done, Mia’s eyes widened even more. She tried to pull her hands away, but Alexander caught them. His gaze softened, the harsh lines of his face easing.

“I want to keep them here,” he murmured, voice low, rough, and strangely tender.

Mia’s heart fluttered. A small, helpless smile touched her lips as her hand brushed over his face. Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone, feeling the faint stubble beneath her skin.

An hour later, Alexander finally stepped out of the house. The sharp afternoon light hit his face, glinting against the faint pink mark on his cheek. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and his shirt collar was slightly undone.

Allen was already waiting by the car. Straightening instantly, he hurried forward and opened the door. “Good afternoon, sir,” he greeted, but his eyes flicked to the side of Alexander’s cheek, brows knitting slightly.

Alexander slipped into the backseat, resting an arm on the door. Allen started the car, but after a moment, curiosity got the better of him. He glanced at the rearview mirror, his voice awkward and hesitant. “Mr. Graves… are you all right? Your cheek is a bit red.”

Alexander didn’t answer immediately. His gaze shifted, and for a second, the memory pulled him away—the way Mia had grabbed his face with both hands, kissing his cheek again and again, her palms pressing into his skin as she held him close. The warmth of her lips. The soft, repeated kisses that had left that lingering heat on him.

His cheek still tingled faintly.

Finally, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. His voice was calm, almost lazy.

“Allen,” he drawled, “have you ever had a girlfriend?”

Allen’s grip on the steering wheel tightened instantly. “No, sir,” he replied stiffly, though his jaw flexed in silent frustration. ‘As if you ever let me have enough time in the day to get a girlfriend,’ he thought bitterly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

Alexander tilted his head, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Figures,” he said dryly. “You’re such a loser. You wouldn’t understand what goes on between married couples.”

Allen’s mouth opened slightly, then closed again. He muttered under his breath, angry beyond words, “That’s it. I’m never worrying about you again, Mr. Graves. You didn’t have to crush my poor heart that hard.”

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