Obsession - Love

There should be a limit to how arrogant a man can be. I swear there should be. It should be, I don't know, in the country's constitution, forbidding bosses from being so... unbearable.

You know what's worse?

I've been complaining about it for years, every day. I'm not exaggerating, I complain. Do I do anything to change it? No. It may seem like I'm lazy and don't love my own life, but that's not it. At least, it's not just that.

The truth is that I hate change. I'm terrified when it comes to the pretty ones. My anxiety-ridden brain starts creating a thousand and two hypotheses about what could go wrong if I decide to risk giving up, so I no longer have to put up with Valentin's unpalatable personality, and I always think it's never the right time to change.

Because I depend on the money.

Because it could be worse.

Because the bastard isn't that bad.

And really, Valentin Salvatore could be worse. I'm real proof that there are much worse bosses out there, but I'm not someone who can deal with strong tempers. Maybe it's because I have to put up with enough of my own. I don't have to put up with other people. I already have to put up with that. Have you ever seen me with PMS? You don't want to!

It's by saying once again that I can't kill my boss during the nights when he forces me to stay late, making me change or delay my plans, that I prepare to knock on the office of the unhappy CEO. Or as I like to call him, the door to hell.

"Excuse me, Mr. Salvatore," I say tiredly, forcing the gentle tone I always try to use in our conversations so as not to overstep the boundaries of what is acceptable for an employee in front of a superior. I said I try, but that doesn't mean I always succeed. "I'm leaving."

"I'm still here, miss. I need my secretary by the end of the day."

I count to ten, but it's no use, so I extend the count to twenty. It doesn't work. Who am I kidding? It never has. Even if I counted to a million, it wouldn't diminish the desire I always feel to throw him off the top of the skyscraper where LDrinks is located.

"I understand, sir, but it's already nine o'clock at night. It's not like I live for work, you know?" I use my most peaceful tone in the world because I don't want him to pester me now and keep me here any longer just out of spite. Believe me, Valentin can do that. "I'm always available during office hours."

"Do you have an appointment?"

My earlier refusal makes him take his eyes off the laptop and, as usual, I lose my breath for a few seconds. Come on, I said he was arrogant, not ugly. Unfortunately, the bastard is as handsome and tempting as the fallen angel himself. Not that I go around commenting on that. My mouth is a tomb when it comes to complimenting him, even if it's something as superficial as his appearance, which is his only quality.

Shit! And he knows it!

When he takes off his glasses, which he only wears to use the computer, he looks even hotter and sexier.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, tense with my increasingly impertinent thoughts about his appearance, but I can't help noticing how his small, black eyes shine, even in the low light of the room. That's how he prefers to work.

Or the way his straight black hair never seems to go in the right direction on top of his head, giving him a casual, relaxed look. Which is a waste, if you ask me because Valentin Salvatore has none of that. He's anything but. On the contrary, the forty-year-old CEO is serious, closed off, predictable and methodical.

Have I mentioned that I hate him? I don't think I have yet, have I?

"Miss Santoro?" he calls out in an impatient voice, running his large hand through his full, dark beard.

I won't go into how such a beautiful physical feature is being wasted on a person as lacking in charisma as he is, but here's my take on the matter. It's a lot of waste!

"Yes, sir," I reply succinctly, albeit belatedly, not wanting to have to explain that I have a date right now.

Valentin says nothing.

And his silence bothers me a lot.

He pulls up the sleeves of his light green shirt and tidies them calmly, without taking his eyes off me. I don't focus on his critical analysis for long, because I'm trying to be a better person and not get into another fight with him, but Mr. Fucking Salvatore isn't going to help me. When I look at his face again, I see that his eyes are focused on my feet.

"Can I help you with anything else?"

"No," I let out a sigh of relief and shook my head in agreement, turning quickly so as not to give him time to change his mind. But I'm not quick enough, or he's the unfortunate one because he immediately calls me. "Miss Santoro?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Make sure you arrive on time tomorrow and sober, please. If that's not too much to ask, of course. Don't let your date get in the way of your obligations."

I roll my eyes at his words, looking at the miserable man who is too handsome to be fair to the rest of the male population. I could argue, of course, I could. I even have an answer on the tip of my tongue about how he can stick his suggestion exactly where the sun doesn't shine, but do I? Of course, I don't. Not because I'm silly or because I don't know how to defend myself, but because I want to end my night in someone's bed to de-stress.

I'm trying to be a better person, I said. I can control myself, most of the time.

By the way, how does he know I'm going on a date? It could be any other appointment!

Anyway, I don't think much about it, I just swallow the cheeky line along with my venom and nod, giving him a fake smile and leaving his office. I pick up my things and curse at him quietly while I'm at it, not worrying if he'll hear me. It wouldn't be the first time Valentin had heard me complain about him "to someone or just to myself.

I'll never forget when he caught me calling him all sorts of names on the phone to Natasha, my best friend.

Speaking of her, I forget about my boss and leave the building replying to his last message, sent earlier, with yet another photo of Amanda, my goddaughter, the most beautiful and friendly baby in the whole world.

I send several audios praising the little one and arrange to meet Nat at some point during the rest of the week. Our weekly walk is still sacred, even after so many years of friendship, and now that she's in a different state of mind, being a wife and mother. Despite being a super-famous actress, I feel that her greatest calling is to be happy with her family. I've never seen her so radiant. She deserves it. Even more so after the shock and scare she went through recently.

Long story.

I smile when she freaks out once again, saying that her father is driving her crazy with the planning of Amanda's birthday party, which will take place in a few weeks. The little one is only going to be one year old, but the celebration is going to make the news thanks to her doting grandfather, I'm sure. Like everything else in Nat's life.

When I get to my car, I throw my bag on the passenger seat and drive to the bar where I've arranged to meet Oliver, a friend with benefits with whom I've been sexually involved for a long time. He's great company, he's funny, he's intelligent, and he also eats me to my heart's content, so I've got a pretty good combo in one person.

I texted him earlier, saying I was going to be late because of my executioner boss, and Oliver understood, replying that he was going to wait for me because the night was young. He probably expected me not to arrive on time, because it's not the first time I've been late for the same reason.

As soon as I park a little away from the crowded bar because there's no parking space nearby, I take down the car mirror and touch up my lipstick a red that I always have in my handbag. I undo my tight ponytail and ruffle my hair, running my fingers through the natural curls at the ends.

I ignore when I notice a strand of white hair amongst the black, hoping that the stress I go through with Valentin doesn't age me too quickly. Furthermore, I'm only twenty-five, please! It's not time for that yet!

"Too hot," I mutter to myself in the mirror and wink. "Ready to be eaten."

I get out of the car and cross the street, entering the noisy, crowded bar. I stretch my neck to try and find Oliver, but even my ten-centimeter stiletto heels don't help me get high enough to see him amongst the bodies. Furthermore, I walk up to the bar and look for him. It doesn't take long for the man with the easy smile to raise his arm and wave at me. I smile back and walk over to him, grateful to have gotten a table.

"Hi, Oliver! I'm sorry for the delay. That wretch kept me late again."

"It's okay. Let's not talk about your boss tonight, okay?"

Tonight is for relaxing.

I nod and smile even more at him, who seems to understand everything I need. The advantages of fucking a friend. I think everyone should have this experience. When you both have the same motto, of course. In our case, it's enjoyment without attachment. Just pure sex, without feelings.

The conversation with Oliver is light and distracting. Over drinks, laughter, and dancing, we decide to get down to business. He chose a place near his apartment, where we usually meet because I don't like anyone in my sacred place. As my fuck buddy isn't attached to that, that's where we go every time.

We even walk, since we've had a few drinks and it's not that far away. As soon as we step into the place, Oliver locks the door and attacks me. His mouth comes down on mine, a little awkwardly because he's too busy or because of the alcohol, I can't tell. I reciprocate the caress, but I try to get to the bottom of things right away because I don't like to play games when it comes to sex. I don't like foreplay, cuddling, long kisses, or anything that delays what I'm looking for orgasm.

Likewise, I unzip his pants, and Oliver moans against my neck, seeking my mouth. I drag him with me to his room and throw him on the bed, causing a silly smile to appear on his face.

"I can never get used to your domineering ways," he says, holding my ass as I mount him, straddling him with one leg on either side of his body.

"Silence" I put a finger to his lips to shut him up and get rid of my dressing gown in a hurry. Oliver does the same with his and gets all The cock isn't huge, but it meets my needs. I can't demand too much, either. "Do you have a condom in the drawer?"

"Yes..."

I stand up naked, and he stares at me the whole way from the bedside table to the bed again. I take the laminated packet and open it, unwrapping the condom on his cock. Oliver groans and throws his body back, clamping his lip between his teeth.

I sit down at once. It hurts a bit because I'm not very wet, but it's not something that bothers me. There's a fine line between pain and pleasure. I pull out of him, only to sit down again, harder. Oliver lifts his body closer and strokes my back.

"Fuck, kitten. You're so fucking hot."

"I know," I whisper, pulling his mouth to my neck. Instead of kissing me hard, Oliver kisses me there, with too much affection in the gesture.

I increase the pace so that he understands what I want, without needing to be told, but the man remains delicate. I lay him down on the mattress again abruptly and give him my show. Not only that, but I ride him hard, with desire. When I come, several minutes later, Oliver comes straight away, unable to control himself.

"Fuck, Nicole. I'm so in love with you."

My body hasn't even recovered properly, and I get the bomb. What is it? I must not have heard right. Not again, God. It was so good! Everything had been going so well for weeks! Why did he have to say that to me just now?

"Oliver..." I say, getting off him. I can't look at his face as I start to gather my clothes, terrified that he's fallen in love with me.

"What are you doing?" he asks, hurt, and I hate how I feel about it.

I don't want to hurt him. Or anyone! That's why I always warn him before I start having sex with someone. Most guys love it because that's what they're looking for too, but there are always a few like... Oliver.

"I'm leaving."

"Nicole... Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, Oliver. And I haven't changed my mind. I'm sorry. You knew from the start that it was going to be something without feelings."

"Yeah, but things change! It started that way for me, too, but I fell in love along the way. Are you so averse to feelings like that you can't even try to give us a chance? We're good together and..."

"Stop it, Oliver. Please... It's not going to happen. You're a great guy. A great friend, listener, bar buddy. But I'm not looking for that right now, you know? I haven't even established myself in a decent career yet, I've got my family to worry about. The last thing I need right now is a love affair. I'm sorry."

"It's your boss, isn't it? It's clear you like him."

What? Has he gone mad?

"Don't look at me like that. You monopolize every conversation related to you by talking about him."

I can't answer, because damn... that's the most absurd thing I've ever heard! I've heard some pretty tense things. Not only that, but I put my clothes on in a hurry, disbelieving that the evening that was supposed to relax me is going to end like this and that I'm still going to lose my cock friend.

What the fuck!

I say goodbye to him, making it clear that we can't have anything more after this, and he doesn't even look at me, upset. I leave his apartment still wearing one foot of my heels and trying to hold my hair back.

Not only that, but I like my boss... Do me a favor!

Not only has Oliver ruined everything, but he's also lost his mind.

My mood was terrible the day after the chaos.

I should get used to it, after all, it's not the first time it's happened. It won't be the last. What's wrong with men? Why am I always attracted to the emotional ones, when all I want is a jerk who wants the same things as me?

Don't judge me. It's not that I never want to settle down, build a family, or spend the rest of my life with just one person. I want that, at some point. Just not now. Everything is too unstable in my life. Starting with my career, which isn't exactly what I planned for my future.

Every worker's goal is to progress, to rise through the ranks, and to be recognized for doing what they love. And that happened to me one day. When all that was snatched away from me, I was forced to take a job as a secretary, earning a good living, but having to accept a bullying boss as a bonus. I had no experience in the field when they took me on three years ago, but my CV was excellent and they were desperate to find someone.

Now I understand why.

I arrived earlier than I was used to because I couldn't sleep a wink and I was getting anxious about seeing the sunrise, so it was barely six o'clock and I was getting ready to come to the company. At least work has a great power to occupy my time and make me forget the messes I get myself into.

If I had a book about my life, my encounters would be tragic and comic at the same time, because there are things that only happen to me. I swear. If I told you everything...

When I put my bag on my desk, I put my head, which is beginning to throb from the sleepless night, between my hands and let out a loud sigh, mentally preparing myself for the workday. I'd be lucky if Valentin had to spend the whole day out of the office, without needing me for anything, but I can't ask for too much. I'd have to be lucky, and that's not part of my life, unfortunately.

Furthermore, I know he's here even if it's too early because Valentin is always up early. It's impossible to get there before him. I've even wondered if he's leaving. All that proves to me that he's going home is the change of clothes, but what time does a man fit social life into his insane routine?

I go to the pantry and prepare two coffees, a strong, unsweetened one for me and a decaf for Valentin. I take a sip of mine and go back to work. Likewise, I leave a cup on my desk and go to my boss's office. Without managing to put a fake smile on my face this time, I knock on the door and wait for him to permit me to enter.

I open the door slowly and the smell of his perfume hits me. The room always looks like this, even at night. How does it last so long? It's as if the scent permeates every corner of the place. At least it's nice. Because if it were bad, as well as enduring the unpalatable personality, I'd have to breathe impure air.

"Good morning, Mr. Salvatore. I've canceled the lunch meeting, as you asked. Can I keep the four o'clock?"

I say everything very quickly while leaving the cup on his desk. When I look at my boss, he seems surprised to see me there. I don't know if it's because of the time or because I've followed his advice to stay sober. Not that I obeyed him, anyway. I just don't like drinking too much when I'm meeting a guy. Not ever. Just a few drinks, within my limits. I don't trust any man enough to be that vulnerable.

"Did you fall out of bed, Miss Santoro?"

"No, sir. I wanted to get home early to get some things done." I tell him the half-truth and stare at him, interlacing my fingers in front of my body, waiting for his daily scrutiny. Not only that, but I think he's looking at me for something to use against me.

"Your date wasn't good?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," I say acidly, feeling a twinge in my head.

"It is my business when your personal life starts to interfere with your performance and the day-to-day running of my company, Miss Santoro."

"Yeah? And when did that happen?" I ask, letting out an ironic laugh, devoid of humor.

If it were any other time, I could keep trying to be a better person, but Mr. Salvatore caught me on a bad day. If he thinks he can have a say in my life, ignoring the fact that he's just my boss, I can ignore that too.

"I can name a long list," he says, acting premeditated.

When he gets up from his chair, I have to raise my head a lot to continue the silent battle of looks, because the son of a bitch is too tall and I'm too short. We're opposites even in this respect.

As he takes slow steps closer to me, I remain still. He never gets too close, as if he's putting an invisible barrier between us, and I'm grateful because otherwise I'd be too distracted. I breathe noisily, trying to control my temper.

"Would you like me to quote it for you?" he asks seriously, without a trace of irony or jest in his deep, husky voice.

"I'd love to hear it, sir!"

"Well, first, your frequent hangovers. There's no point in changing your lenses for big-framed glasses to try and hide your deep-set eyes, or wearing stronger perfume to disguise the smell of alcohol that sticks to your skin."

Okay, he managed to put me off with that one.

I didn't think he'd be that observant. The man barely looks at me! How can he tell when I'm wearing glasses or not? And it's not my fault that when I drink more than usual on outings with Nat and Maya, my body exhales! It must be my blood type, which is incompatible with drinking. No matter how many baths I take, the traitor in my body always gives me away.

"Let's see what else..." Valentin moves away from me just enough to lean on his desk, his arms crossed in front of his body, further highlighting the muscles that can't be hidden even by his dress shirt. "There are also your mood swings, of course, when something in your evening doesn't go as you'd like. The stress, the snippy tone you use with your boss, and your complete lack of patience for the idiocy of other employees."

Oh my God!