Page 18 of His Little Angel

I go insane.

My assistant. That’s all she is.

But she’s mine.

God, she’s fucking mine.

I don’t know when that happened, or how, or why. She organized my calendar one day and rearranged the wiring in my skull the next. It was slow, quiet—unnoticed until today, until the possibility of another man’s hands on her made something in me snap.

The second my office door shuts behind me… I let my insanity creep through.

I put my hand on my desk, and the next thing I know, it’s flipped.

She isn’t mine.

She isn’t mine.

She isn’t mine.

But the words taste like a lie.

I slam a fist into the wall, and pain shoots up my arm. I welcome it. Anything to drown the fucking curse taking over my system. This isn’t normal. I’ve seen this before—in my father. I swore I’d never end up like him.

But fuck, obsession has a way of creeping in without asking for permission.

The door bursts open.

“Sir?” Veronica’s voice cracks.

“Get Mila.” I order.

“Sir—”

“Now.” It rips out of me.

As the door slams shut again, I stand there in the ruins of my control, blood dripping from my palm, fury and obsession twisting together in a way I don’t want to examine.

She has been mine, quietly, for years. In the smallest ways. In the ways I didn’t see until today. In the routines she built around me, the rhythms she trained my days into. In every cup of coffee only she can make right. In every solved problem before I even knew it existed.

She has no fucking right to be inside my head like this. But she is. And now that I’ve noticed it, now that the illusion shattered, I can’t put it back together.

The doorknob turns.

She’s here.

Chapter Eight

Mila

Ihave seen Enzo unravel before—once.

And even then, it wasn’t like this.

That day, he lost a five-hundred-million-dollar deal. I genuinely thought he would burn the entire building down with us inside.

But seeing him now?

That Enzo was civilized compared to this version.