The CEO Is Obsessed With Me

I winced as I felt my body rebel against my will. I felt so heavy, like my joints had been locked in place. Maybe I was drugged, drugged and vulnerable.

I looked down at myself and was glad to see my clothes were still on. I forced myself to get out of bed, my gaze darting about the room to take in my surroundings.

I didn’t know what a stalker’s bedroom was supposed to look like, but I had expected the walls to be covered in pictures of me, pictures he’d taken without my consent while watching me.

But instead, posters of famous baseball players decorated the walls. The curtains of the room were a bright pink, which stood out like a sore thumb against the otherwise neutral decor.

A simple wooden desk, neatly organized with a few notebooks and pens, stood against one wall. A small bookshelf held an assortment of novels and textbooks, with a quirky lava lamp sitting on top, its blobs slowly drifting up and down. The bedspread was plain blue, contrasting with a few brightly colored throw pillows shaped like fruit. A corkboard above the desk displayed a mix of postcards and ticket stubs.

Overall, the room was fairly ordinary, with just a few playful touches that hinted at the occupant’s personality. Who was this person? And why does the subtle scent lingering around the room seem so familiar? I began to have second doubts, but I quickly pushed the thought aside and stood up.

I successfully made it out of the room, and now I navigated the narrow hall that led to God knows where, keeping my footsteps as light as possible. I had to find the nearest exit and get out of here before I passed out from fatigue.

After a few minutes, I led myself through an open door at the end of the hall, being welcomed by a waft of pancakes and bacon. My mouth watered, and my stomach grumbled, but I ignored it and bared my shoulders. I soon realized that I had stepped into the kitchen, but my relief was short-lived. I stilled in place as I heard a lone whistle reach my ears.

I moved quickly, holding my breath as I pressed my back against the wall to avoid being seen. From the corner of my eye, I spot the figure of a man. He stood with his back turned to me, humming a random tune as he whisked the bacon he prepared into two plates. That was him. The damned stalker. If I didn’t know any better I would have mistaken him for a normal man, everything about this house was annoyingly normal, and he was even wearing a damned apron and a chef hat while he cooked. What the heck was his deal? Who abducts someone and goes on to make breakfast for them like it was a normal routine?This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I would have understood if I woke up in a dingy basement, but not to the fucking irresistible smell of a home-cooked meal.

Is this how he operated? He didn’t even bother to tie me down. He must have known I wouldn’t get far in my current state, but still, he offered me a chance to escape, giving me false hope only for him to snatch it and mock my efforts.

It was infuriating to know I was being toyed with.

Anger bubbled in my chest, spreading throughout my body, to the extent it burned my veins and boiled my blood.

Oh fuck him.

In an instant, I pushed off the wall and grabbed the nearest object that could serve as a weapon. My fingers curled about the neck of a ceramic vase on the counter. I tightened my grip as I lifted it, blinded by rage, resentment, and frustration. I ignored the wave of dizziness that threatened to make me stumble, gritting my teeth as my muscles screamed.

I aimed for his head. If I manage to knock him out, I can successfully escape and alert the police. “Hey pervert!” I swung the large vase with all my might, hoping to catch him off guard, but the bastard was quick on his feet.

He spun on hearing my shout, dodging my attack and seizing my wrists. I fought against his grip as he held my hands over my head. The vase slipped and fell as a result, the shattering sound of it breaking into pieces cut through the space between us.

“Let me go, you deranged man!” I continued to struggle, fighting for freedom. I would not let him have his way with me so easily.

“Aurelia?” The stalker gasped, and his voice…. I know that voice.

I froze in place as pain seared through my head like a mallet slammed against my skull. A groan rippled in my chest as my vision blurred with dizziness. I swayed and lost my footing. I tried to regain my balance, but the pain was too much to bear, I was losing. I was losing so miserably it made my heart ache. I waited for him to take advantage of the moment and pin me down, but instead, I felt his hands snake around my waist.

He stopped my fall, cradling me in his arms ever so gently. My body relaxed against his, recognizing his touch when my mind had yet to grasp who he was.

It was strange. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did all my anger evaporate the moment he held me close? Why did I suddenly feel less threatened?

“Aurelia are you alright?” I was taken aback by the panic in his tone, wondering why he called out my name like he’d said it a dozen times before.

My mind raced, trying to connect the dots through the haze of pain and confusion. That voice, the gentleness of his touch, the way he said my name…

I looked at him, really looked at him, and I was met with bright blue eyes that radiated warmth and concern.

Those were not the eyes of a criminal.

“Caspian?”