Lahat ng Kabanata ng CEO'S WORSHIPED OBSESSION.: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Chapter OneOlivia’s POVIf I’d known tripping into the most powerful man in Manhattan’s office would be the least embarrassing part of my day, I might have worn flats. Or maybe prayed harder. Or not worn the silk blouse that was now soaked through with coffee and shame.The elevator dinged.Too late.The floor stretched out before me like a runway for corporate models. I stepped out, my stiletto heels sharp, spine pretending to be steel. In my hand: a leather folder clutched like a shield. Inside: my carefully doctored résumé, threaded with just enough reality to be defensible and enough fiction to be dangerous.I didn’t have a choice.Three weeks late on rent. Credit cards in cardiac arrest. Mom’s constant calling and demanding for money like it grows on trees. And me—Olivia Wilde, former drama student, failed actress, sometime bartender, recent dog-walker, and full-time disappointment—walking into a job interview at Stone International like I had any right to be there, maybe bec

Chapter ThreeOlivia’s POVFabian as a kid would always draw me hearts.Not the kind you'd hang on Valentine's Day cards or scribble next to a name in a diary. No. These were crooked, childlike things. Jagged around the edges, ink too dark in some places and too faint in others. The kind only a kid with undersized hands.And I had kept none of them.Or at least, I thought I hadn't.Until today.It was my fourth hour into day five of pretending not to notice Fabian Stone watching me like I was his next acquisition, his next business deal.Not a person. Not a woman. A memory in motion.And I was failing, miserably.The framed heart sat on the edge of his glass desk, leaned just slightly, as though it belonged but still dared anyone to question it. My eyes skimmed it during a meeting he dragged me into about the Westview merger, another useless display of his power and calculated brilliance, that made me want to doubt myself again.The sketch was small. Tucked beside a marble pen holder

Olivia’s POVThe morning began with sunlight that mocked me.Too bright. Too golden. Too undeserved.The day started with three things, coffee gone cold, a missing pair of heels, and my reflection mocking me in the mirror with that subtle arch of a brow that always seemed to whisper, "You're not fooling anyone.”I was twenty minutes late, my blouse was wrinkled, and there was a distinct possibility I had left Fabian Stone’s penthouse keys somewhere between my car and the seventh circle of hell. I had torn through my handbag three times, muttering prayers and curses beneath my breath. But,They were nowhere.They were the kind of keys that didn’t just unlock things, they meant things. Responsibility. Trust. Territory. Power.And I had lost them.By the time I stepped into the office, I was already trembling beneath my blazer. The weight of the day came crashing in. The receptionist looked up, her smile faltering. I could only nod stiffly, afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would con

Chapter SevenOlivia’s POVThe night shimmered with the kind of sharp, glossy elegance I usually only witnessed from a distance. The event that had something to do with hedge funds and humanitarianism—was held at a private rooftop ballroom, the kind where the champagne never stopped flowing and the air smelled like money and rich people.I didn't want to attend, but I did anyways.I wore a black dress.The dress was sleek, backless, and borrowed. My heels were taller than any rational person would choose for a night of mingling with rich people also known as wolves. But Fabian had asked me to be there. He had said it like a request, but it felt like something more. Like a chain pulled tight between us.And I had said yes.The ballroom sparkled. Strings of lights glowed gold overhead, and the sound of a live quartet floated through the space, polished and perfect. I scanned the room, my stomach tightening. Everyone looked like they belonged. Crisp tuxedos, designer gowns, measured laug

Chapter NineOlivia's POVI sat at my desk in Fabian’s stupidly perfect office, my head pounding from last night’s tequila binge, when I found it. My hands shook, not just from the hangover but from the ghost of his eyes, which I swore I felt even though he wasn’t there. I was flipping through a stack of papers, pretending to sort his schedule, when my fingers brushed something soft, worn, tucked in a drawer I had no business snooping in. A folded piece of paper, yellowed at the edges, with my name scrawled in a kid’s shaky handwriting. Olivia. My heart lurched, like it knew what was coming before I did.I unfolded it, my breath catching, and there it was, a letter from Fabian, from when he was thirteen and I was nineteen, his babysitter, his whole damn world. “Dear Liv,” it started, the words wobbly, like he had pressed too hard with his crayon. “You’re my favorite person. I love you. Don’t ever leave. Love, Fabian.” A lopsided red heart sat at the bottom, uneven and smudged,