Page 84 of Sinful Obsession

My stomach dropped.

Five years I’d worked here, climbing the ranks in project management, watching the company rake in profits.

Why would the owner sell now?

Before I could press further, a commotion erupted behind me.

I turned to see Viktor, my department head, striding forward alongside the COO, Margaret Hensley, and the CFO, David Ruiz. Their faces were tight, professional masks barely concealing unease.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Margaret began, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “As detailed in the email sent this morning, we have a new owner and CEO. Please welcome Mr. Cassian Moretti.”

The world tilted.

The air left my lungs.

No. No, it couldn’t be—

My eyes locked on the figure stepping forward, and there he was—Cassian, in a tailored black suit that hugged his broad shoulders, the fabric catching the light with a subtle sheen.

His dark hair was swept back, accentuating the sharp angles of his face, and his eyes, those piercing blue eyes, radiated power and danger.

A silver watch gleamed at his wrist, and his posture—commanding, unyielding—made the room feel smaller, as if he owned every inch of it.

“Oh my God, he’s gorgeous!” Jenna squealed beside me, her voice barely hushed.

“Look at that jawline,” whispered Sarah from accounting, fanning herself dramatically. “I’d let him ruin my life.”

“Tall, hot, and probably loaded,” added Mia from HR, giggling. “I’m volunteering for overtime inhisoffice.”

Their chatter grated, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from Cassian.

His gaze found mine, and a slow, predatory smirk curled his lips, sending a shiver down my spine.

He addressed the room, his voice smooth and authoritative, outlining vague plans for “growth” and “efficiency” before dismissing us with a wave.

The staff dispersed, buzzing with excitement, but I stood frozen, my mind racing.

He’d bought the company I worked for?

Why?

What game was he playing?

I tried to focus on my tasks, but my hands trembled as I sorted through project files.

An hour later, the internal phone on my desk rang, Margaret’s voice crisp on the line. “Charlotte, report to the CEO’s office. Now.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I hung up, my fingers lingering on the receiver as dread coiled in my gut.

Standing, I smoothed my blouse, forcing composure into my posture despite the panic screaming inside me.

The walk to the top floor felt endless, each step echoing in the sterile hallway.

At the CEO’s office door, a polished mahogany slab with “Cassian Moretti” already etched on a nameplate, I paused.

My hand shook as I gripped the handle, the cold metal grounding me for a moment before I pushed the door open.