The Obsession Book 3
Автор
Shala Mungroo
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129K
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Chapter 1
Book 3
Stepping off her flight into McCarran International Airport, Mira Singh was instantly engulfed by the clamor of slot machines and the vibrant glow of neon lights. It had been ages since she’d traveled, and never without her half-brother, Jahan, so the whole experience was a thrilling mix of anxiety and excitement.
Mrs. Morris, her part-time babysitter and former neighbor, was more than willing to look after Jahan for as long as Mira needed. The elderly woman found the idea of chasing love incredibly romantic, and Mira hoped that Nicholai would share her sentiment.
She’d journeyed to Vegas to apologize and regain his trust, but she knew that wouldn’t be an easy task with a man like Nicholai Bach. As Natasha had warned her, Mira had deeply wounded him—so much so that he’d left the state to focus on his businesses elsewhere.
Navigating through the airport took a while, and then she was in the first available taxi heading to one of the most popular hotels and casinos on the Vegas Strip—owned by Nicholai. She had reserved her room earlier, not wanting to assume anything about how he might receive her.
Mira still couldn’t believe how badly she’d messed things up with him. She’d completely misread him, assuming he was just a wealthy playboy with nothing better to do than toy with the world like it was his personal Monopoly board. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
As it turned out, he was an orphan.
She’d done some digging on him. His past wasn’t hard to uncover—he hadn’t been hiding it. In fact, he’d used his background as a stepping stone to success and as a source of inspiration for other kids like him.
He’d been shuffled around foster homes since he was three, never staying in one place for more than a year. By the time he was eighteen, he was laser focused on making his first million by twenty-one.
The media adored him. He was intriguing enough to make headlines worldwide and handsome enough to grace the covers of celebrity magazines. He had a reputation as a playboy, but from what she’d learned, he was far from it.
She’d spent the plane ride crafting her apology. Her first challenge, though, was getting him to see her. She wasn’t above begging if it came to that.
Natasha had been instrumental in arranging everything. Their relationship had started off rocky since Natasha wasn’t just Mira’s boss, but also Nicholai’s ex. Things had smoothed over once Natasha realized Nicholai’s interest in her intern was genuine and reciprocated.
Natasha was also privy to Nicholai’s schedule. He’d be tied up in meetings all day, but he was expected at his nightclub tonight. Mira hoped the relaxed atmosphere and the presence of alcohol would lower his defenses enough to prevent him from turning her away.
The taxi dropped her off at her hotel, and Mira settled in, mentally preparing for the night ahead.
***
Later that night, Mira took her time getting ready.
She chose a little black dress that hugged her curves, accentuating her slender waist and flared hips. The dress ended mid-thigh and had a halter neckline. She left her dark brown hair loose, cascading in waves over her bare shoulders. Smoky eyeliner, dark red lips, and gold chandelier earrings completed her look.
The dress was simple, but it transformed her. The five-inch heels made her look taller, her tanned legs longer. She barely recognized the stunning woman reflected in the full-length mirror.
If he’d been attracted to her in her plain waitress uniform, he couldn’t possibly resist her now.
She knew she was right when heads turned and catcalls followed her as she walked past the long line outside the nightclub.
Natasha had ensured her name was on the list, but it seemed unnecessary. The burly bouncer gave her a once-over and immediately moved the stanchion, allowing her to bypass the line and enter the club.
Mira flashed him a grateful smile and stepped inside.
The club was alive with the pulsating rhythm of dance music.
Mira paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim, foggy interior. Through the laser lights and sea of dancing bodies, she spotted the DJ in a booth at the far end of the dance floor.
A glowing circular bar sat in the middle of the floor, drawing patrons like moths to a flame. She headed over to order a drink, hoping a little liquid courage would help.
Less than five minutes later, she was sipping a martini and scanning the club. Natasha had told her that Nicholai usually hung out in the VIP area on the upper level. Sure enough, when she looked up, she saw his dark hair and chiseled jawline, and her stomach clenched in recognition.
He was breathtaking.
No wonder two women were hanging on his every word. One was touching his arm, while the other kept shooting him flirty smiles.
She couldn’t see his face clearly, but his stiff posture suggested he was uncomfortable. She took that as a good sign—he wasn’t reciprocating their advances.
Feeling emboldened, she downed her drink, set the glass on the bar, and squared her shoulders.
This was it.
She navigated through the crowd and made her way to the VIP area, where two large bouncers stood guard. They eyed her suspiciously as she approached.
“I’m here to see Mr. Bach,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
They didn’t react.
She frowned. They must hear that a lot. She changed her approach.
“We have a meeting tonight,” she said cheerfully. “Just call him over, he’ll confirm it.”
Still, they didn’t believe her. She was about to pull out her phone to text Natasha when a familiar voice stopped her.
“Mira?”
She spun around at the sound of the smoky voice she’d missed and almost did a double take.
He looked different. His chest seemed broader, his biceps larger, as if he’d been hitting the gym more often. He also looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week. But instead of appearing disheveled, he looked dark and dangerously attractive.
“Nicholai.”
He was staring at her as if he couldn’t believe she was really there. His blue eyes reflected his surprise, but beneath it, she saw the simmering anger. He was still upset with her.
He waved the bouncers aside and motioned for her to come over.
He took her arm, a bit roughly, and she had no choice but to follow him to a quieter corner of the room. He pinned her against the wall, his intoxicating scent enveloping her and making her slightly dizzy.
“What are you doing here?”
When he focused his intense gaze on her like that, she forgot everything she’d planned to say—except one thing.
“I came to apologize,” she blurted out before she lost her nerve.
In her heels, she barely reached his chin. She tried to look up at him but found it hard to keep her gaze from straying to his lips, which were currently pressed into a tight line.
“I don’t want your apology,” he said, his voice sharp. “Nor do I need it.”
He started to turn away, but Mira boldly grabbed his forearm, forcing him to face her again. His eyes were blazing.
“Please, Nicholai,” she pleaded softly. “Just hear me out.”
His eyes searched hers for a long moment before his gaze swept down her body and back up, making her squirm under his blatant scrutiny.
“Fine,” he spat out the word and put his arm around her waist, guiding her away. “Later.”
They moved away from the crowd and down a dark corridor. Nicholai pushed open a door and nudged her inside.
A light flicked on, revealing a small office. She heard a lock click and spun around to face Nicholai.
“Now, pretty girl,” Nicholai took a predatory step toward her, and she backed up until she felt the desk at her hip. “Show me how sorry you really are.”
