You’re Mine Now (Obsession #1)

Chapter One

I waved goodbye to my Pilates instructor, my smile lingering as I wiped the damp strands of hair clinging to my face. The gym buzzed with its usual rhythm—grunts of effort, the thud of feet on treadmills, the occasional clang of weights returning to their racks.

Then I saw him.

My sneakers squeaked against the floor as I came to an abrupt halt, my smile evaporating faster than the cool air off my skin. Eyes wide, I locked onto a towering figure standing by the punching bags in the corner of the gym—a shadow that didn’t belong in the fluorescent-lit brightness.

Adrian.

The boy who’d made my life hell growing up was now a man, all hard lines and sharp edges. I gripped the strap of my bag tighter, the fabric cutting into my palm.

I thought he was in prison.

I’d heard the rumors—something about nearly killing someone. Yet here he was, casually leaning against the wall between sets, scrolling through his phone. He looked calm, almost bored, but I knew better. Probably planning his next victim , I thought bitterly as nausea twisted in my gut.

Time hadn’t softened him. He looked more intimidating than ever. Probably 6’4”, his broad shoulders stretched his white tank. He lifted his shirt, revealing waves of solid muscle beneath as he wiped his brow. Tattoos now covered his arms, the ink shifting with every movement.

I ducked behind a squat rack, my pulse pounding as I tried to steady my breath. Panic gripped me, but beneath it, something darker simmered—a feeling I didn’t want to name.

He wasn’t just my high school bully. He was the source of so many complicated feelings I still couldn’t untangle.

He’d transferred to my school as a senior while I was a sophomore. A year of relentless torment that left scars no one could see but that I still carried. But why me? The question haunted me then, just as it did now. Was it because I was easy prey, or had it been something more?

My skin prickled at the memory of his wicked grin the day it all began.

It was early fall, but summer clung stubbornly to the air, its heat shimmering over the field. I sat in the bleachers, sketchpad balanced on my lap, my pencil moving in lazy, absentminded strokes as the football team practiced.

Then he pulled off his shirt.

His body gleamed under the sun, muscles flexing with every motion. Back then, there were no tattoos—just smooth, olive perfection. His dark hair clung to his damp forehead until he raked his fingers through it, sending droplets scattering like sparks in the sunlight.

Of course, I’d heard about him. Everyone had. The star football player who’d been kicked out of his last school. The rumors of fights and drugs that followed him everywhere he went. Even the teachers seemed to tread carefully around him, as if he might explode at any moment.

But he didn’t. Not often, anyway. He didn’t care about fitting in or cracking jokes like the other boys. While they clowned around, he stayed quiet. Detached. He was often surrounded by people, but they felt like props, there to fill the empty space. His laugh, when it came, was hollow, his gaze always distant.

The girls didn’t seem to care. They flocked to him like moths to a flame, drawn to the danger he radiated. And I understood it.

But I played it safe. I avoided attention. I wasn’t invisible though—not by a long shot. Boys noticed me. They’d compliment my hair, my curves, if they were feeling bold. They’d tell me to smile more, that my eyes were too pretty to look so sad.

And though I secretly dreamed of meeting my prince charming, their attention always left me feeling unsettled. Their compliments were fleeting, something they could snatch back the moment I didn’t give them what they wanted.

No one at this school’s good enough for you, Scarlett? they’d taunt. But it wasn’t that. I just wanted to feel safe. To feel seen.

I’d watched Adrian a few times before. But that day, I made the mistake of letting my gaze linger.

Even from across the field, his jawline was sharp enough to cut, his eyes piercing as they locked onto mine. When he caught me staring, he didn’t smirk or look away. He shook his head slowly—a deliberate, silent warning that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

And then he smiled.

That dark, hungry grin. Like a thief’s first glimpse of a rare jewel—possessive and tinged with awe.

He came toward me, strolling past with his teammates. He slowed, leaning down just enough for his breath to graze my ear. His voice was gravelly and low, sinking deep into my bones.

“Careful what you wish for, little girl.”

That day was only the beginning—the day I caught his eye.

The letters came next. Slipped into my locker—their words burned into my brain. I used to open them, naively hoping they were from a friend or a secret admirer.

But they weren’t.

They were his twisted fantasies.

As the months passed, the letters became darker and more obsessive. He described everything he wanted to do to me in vivid, horrifying detail—graphic acts that made my skin crawl. He promised that one day I’d be his, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Even after he left for college, they didn’t stop. He mailed his notes instead, describing disgusting, explicit acts in words I couldn’t unsee.

And yet, I kept reading. Rereading them, sometimes even looking up the things he described, feeling terrified, yet transfixed. Against all reason, those words awakened something in me—something raw and primal.

And now, after five years of silence, here he was. Larger than life and looking far more dangerous than I’d remembered.

He pummeled into the bag, each strike landing with enough force to make the chain rattle. His veins throbbed as he drove his fists into the bag, tattoos rippling with every movement. Sweat glistened on his tanned skin, catching the light.

The rhythmic thud echoed through the gym, each impact reverberating in my chest.

Why is he so angry?

The thought lingered as I took a cautious step back, hoping to escape before he noticed me. But my foot caught the edge of the rack, and I stumbled, crashing to the floor. Laughter rippled through the gym.

No, no, no, no.

I scrambled onto my hands and knees, frantically clutching for my bag, desperate to get the hell out before he noticed. But when I glanced up, Adrian had already turned. His gaze locked onto mine, and that cruel, sick smile—the one that haunted my nightmares—spread across his face. He’d seen me—caught me.

The slight tilt of his head, the faint flex of his arms as he took me in told me everything I needed to know. I was in trouble.

He peeled off his gloves and started toward me, each step feeling like the tick of a countdown. Run . The word screamed in my head as my heart pounded in my chest like a fist on a locked door. But where? The gym was crowded—surely he couldn’t do anything here.

I didn’t even have time to stand before he reached me. Towering above me, his sheer presence was enough to unnerve me, even without our history. My breath caught as I glanced up, knees trembling, my body forgetting how to move.

Stand , you idiot.

I had to meet his eye. Had to prove I wasn’t afraid, even if it wasn’t true.

“We meet again,” he said, his voice low and rough, a growl more than words. “Still spying on me, I see.”

I pushed myself up, standing too quickly, my movements stiff, and crossed my arms against my chest in a weak imitation of defiance.

“Don’t get up on my account,” he mocked, his smirk deepening. “I always wanted to see you on your knees.” He let the words hang, thick with dominance. “Don’t you remember my warning?” he added.

How could I forget? His words were burned into my brain—a core memory that pulsed with renewed intensity now that he was standing before me.

My throat was dry as sandpaper, and I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak. “I… I heard you went to jail. I was just looking to see if it was really you.” The words tumbled out, shaky and unsteady.

He laughed, a low, dark chuckle that sent a chill down my spine. “You’re a terrible liar, Scarlett.” He hissed my name, dragging it out like he could taste it. “Perfect name for you—your face matches when you lie through your teeth.”

Heat crawled up my neck, my body betraying me as always. Of course, he’d hone in on my blush—something I despised about myself. The way I wore my emotions on my skin. I should leave now, before this spiraled further.

I forced my chin higher, though my voice barely held steady.

“Goodbye, Adrian.”

Without waiting for his response, I turned on my heel, each step an act of will to keep from breaking into a run.

But he lunged, his hand shooting out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. The grip wasn’t tight enough to draw attention, but the message was unmistakable.

He was in control.

“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,” he said, his voice low and sharp. He leaned in close, bringing his mouth close to my ear. “We’ve got unfinished business.”

“What… what do you mean?” The question slipped out, barely above a whisper.

There was something behind his eyes, a secret—a joke I wasn’t in on.

“I want you to come to my place. Tonight.”

Panic raced through me at the thought of being alone with him. Panic, tangled with something darker—something I refused to admit, even to myself. My breath wavered as I forced the words out.

“Absolutely not. Why would I?”

Adrian tilted his head, his gaze dragging over me with deliberate slowness, like I was something to be dissected. “You need training,” he said, his tone laced with mockery.

His eyes lingered, and I felt naked under their weight. “That Pilates class isn’t working you hard enough,” he added. His gaze continued to assess my body, and I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest, my form-fitting leotard doing little to shield me.

I noticed a slight movement in his gym shorts, and shame flooded me. My large breasts, my ample hips—the things I wished I could hide from his scrutiny—felt like ammunition in his hands.

He smirked, his tongue sliding along his bottom lip. “You’ve got a lot to work with,” he murmured. “But I can get you in the best shape of your life.”

His hand drifted closer, and I froze. His fingers trailed up my arm, light as a whisper, before reaching my collarbone. Knuckles brushed the bare skin along my neckline, grazing the edge of my cleavage.

I gasped, unable to move, unable to tear myself away. His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that made my knees weak before they dropped to my chest again.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I whispered, but my voice lacked any authority.

He scoffed, the sound low and full of ridicule.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

His eyes met mine in a dare.

With a sinking feeling, I realized I wasn’t going to do anything. He could do whatever he wanted, and I wouldn’t stop him.

“Eight o’clock. Tonight.”

His voice was smooth and commanding as if the decision had already been made.

Before I could react, his hand moved again, trailing along the outside of my thigh, igniting another wave of dread. He slipped his fingers into my pocket, pulling out my phone in one swift motion. He held it up, turning it over in his hand, like a magician revealing the end of a trick, his face smug.

“Unlock it,” he demanded, leaving no room for argument.

My hands shook as I took the phone from him, my fingers fumbling over the screen. As soon as I unlocked it, he snatched it back, entering his contact information with practiced ease.

He handed it back, and I looked down, my stomach flipping. The name he’d entered was simple— Adrian —but beneath it, he’d added “My personal trainer,” along with his address. I recognized the location—an old industrial building downtown that had been converted into luxury condos. I wondered how he could afford to live there.

“Why your place? Why not here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Not that it mattered. I had no intention of showing up.

“I’m starting a personal training business,” he said, shrugging as if this were all perfectly reasonable. “Just a small setup right now. You should be grateful—I’m offering you a free lesson.”

I looked up at him, stunned.

Grateful? After all these years, he thought I’d want him as my personal trainer? He was out of his mind.

“I don’t need your training,” I said, my voice clipped. “Pilates is working just fine for me.”

His chuckle was low and sharp and entirely too amused.

“Oh, I forgot to mention—I wasn’t asking.”

“Asking?” I echoed, a chill running through me.

“Right.”

He stepped closer, leaning in until his breath brushed against my ear. He smelled of pine, crisp and fresh, reminding me of a frigid winter day—the kind that stings your lungs and makes your face hurt.

“I don’t take no for an answer,” he said, baring his teeth. “If I want something, I get it. End of story.”

He paused, his voice dropping to a murmur that seemed to drain the air from the room.

“And right now, I want you as my next project. So, you’ll be there tonight, or…” He let the threat hang for a moment before adding, “I’ll come pick you up myself.”

I stared at him, incredulous. He didn’t know where I lived. He couldn’t.

The air between us grew thick, suffocating.

“Is this how you plan to get clients?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm—grasping for control, desperate to break the tension.

“Of course not. This is special treatment for you, princess.”

Princess. The word slithered through the space between us, curling around me like a secret.

I shuddered. He used to write that in the letters. But it wasn’t just ink on a page. He had whispered names in my ear before, too—when he passed me at my locker, when no one else was listening. Words that made my skin crawl, my stomach twist… and, worst of all, lit a spark in places I only wanted to feel ice.

My lips parted, ready to fire back, but before I could speak, he leaned in, his voice a low growl.

“See you at eight.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there—fuming, my heart pounding… and something else. Despite everything, a thrill simmered beneath.

Memories of high school flooded back. The way he looked at me—like I was his prey. Licking his lips as he leaned against his locker, waiting for me to pass. I’d keep my head high, my gaze fixed ahead, pretending not to notice the heat of his eyes burning into me.

Aside from his whispers, his jeers, he rarely spoke to me. He barely confronted me. Except for a few occasions—like the day he caught me at my locker alone, his expression dark and unreadable.

“Let me walk you home,” he said, his voice low. Almost gentle.

“No.” My voice trembled as the words from his letters flashed through my mind. I couldn’t let this sex-crazed maniac anywhere near my life—let alone my house.

What would he do to me once we got there?

A shiver ran through me as I forced myself to add, “I like to be alone.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, but turned and walked away. Relief washed over me—until later, when I felt his presence the whole way home. His eyes bored into my back, his steps matching mine. I didn’t need to look back. I knew he was there.

The next day, he cornered me in the cafeteria, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

“You didn’t let me walk you home. But that didn’t stop me from watching.” His eyes dragged over me, slow and knowing. “I love the way your ass moves.”

My throat tightened as I tried to ignore the heat pooling in my stomach.

His smirk widened, his tone dipping even lower. “What do you think I did when I got home?”

The air seemed to thicken, suffocating me. I should’ve slapped him—screamed, done anything but sit there, frozen. But his words echoed in my mind, taunting me.

Of course I knew.

It was the same thing I’d done right after reading his latest letter.

A shameful secret I could barely admit to myself. I told myself it was just curiosity—curiosity about the things he described, even as they made my blood run cold. But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop seeing his face when my thoughts strayed, imagining his hands in places they didn’t belong.

I hated how he’d catch me looking sometimes, his sharp gaze snapping to mine in the halls. I’d look away, my heart pounding. If I stared too long, he’d do exactly what he promised. But he never did. It was all a game to him—a twisted, cruel game.

But now, standing here with him, all grown up, I realized it wasn’t a game anymore.

Every word of those promises felt tangible, hovering between us like an unspoken challenge, daring me to see them through.