Intrigued by the CEO: Paranoid Obsessions

The night wind on the rooftop was chilly. Harper adjusted her jacket and walked towards him. “Mr. Foster, what’s going on here? With all the lights and helicopters, it was a bit too much…”

“Well, you see, Master attended a banquet in city C tonight, and he wants to land here on his return. I’m worried about poor visibility at night, making it difficult to find the landing spot, so I laid out a few light runways,” Dylan explained with a smile.

“…” Runways made of lights… Rich people are so extravagant…

Harper stared at the sea of lights on the ground, feeling deeply speechless. It took her a moment to process before she asked, “Why are you landing here?”

That was the key point.

In response, Dylan smiled but didn’t answer. He turned his head to look at a particular helicopter.

Following his gaze, Harper saw Blaze lounging casually on the aircraft, his long legs dangling out of the cabin. He looked down at her, swirling a glass of red wine in his hand.

“Harper, am I not flashy enough, or is my plane not flashy enough?” Blaze’s tone was displeased.

He was annoyed that she hadn’t noticed him the moment she arrived on the rooftop and started talking to Dylan. Was he invisible or something?

“What?” Harper didn’t catch his meaning.

“Are you blind?” Blaze glared at her fiercely, downing his wine in one gulp.

Harper told herself not to bother arguing with this eccentric and temperamental guy.

Throwing the glass aside, Blaze jumped down from the helicopter with a graceful movement. He looked at Harper imperiously. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Harper didn’t understand.

“To your place.”

Harper’s eyes widened in shock. What was he up to?

She looked at Dylan for an explanation.

“Miss Shaw, you’ll find out soon,” Dylan said with a smile.

Harper had a bad feeling about this.

Once inside her home, Blaze took off his clothes and tossed them aside, then headed straight for the kitchen as if he was the owner.

Harper hurried after him, “Mr. Wychwood, what do you want from me?”

Blaze opened the fridge, brows furrowing. “Where’s the ice cream?”

“What?” Harper was taken aback.

“You said you’d make it after I finished the ice cream,” Blaze snapped, closing the fridge with a bang. Leaning against it, he glared at her furiously. “Are you lying to me? Daring to lie to me?”

He was easily angered, a true paranoid.

“I’m not lying to you. Wait a minute…” Harper suddenly realized something, looking at the handsome man in disbelief, “Are you saying… you’ve eaten all the ice cream I made?”

“Give me the ice cream!” The ice cream suited his taste perfectly. Without it, he became irritable.

“But that’s 20 tubs of ice cream!” Harper couldn’t believe it. “That’s enough for two months for a normal person.” And they had only been apart for less than 24 hours. He actually finished it all? What did he treat ice cream as, water? Air?

“Ice cream!” Blaze’s anger flared up again, impatiently demanding, “Hurry up!”

Harper scrutinized him from head to toe. Blaze stood tall with a great body, exuding sexiness and strength. When she looked at his face again, apart from being furious, he didn’t look too bad from a health perspective.

Eating 20 tubs of ice cream in less than 24 hours without any repercussions indicated that he must be in good health.

“What are you doing? Why are you glaring at me?” Blaze grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the fridge. He leaned in close, staring at her discontentedly.

He was too close, his faint scent of alcohol lingering on his body assaulting her nostrils. Harper couldn’t help but furrow her brows. “Nothing.”

“Listen, I allow you to look at me!”

Harper found herself at a loss for words most of the time when facing him. After a moment of silence, as Blaze leaned in even closer, she said, “Then you should go back first. I’ll finish making the ice cream and have Mr. Foster bring it to you.”

She didn’t like him being in her house…

“No! I want it now!” Blaze insisted.

In front of him, Harper never had the option to refuse. She could only nod and say, “Then let me go out and buy the ingredients.”

“Miss Shaw, the ingredients are all here and ready,” Dylan said, entering with a few maids, who set down the necessary items.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

Harper looked at the complete set of ingredients, rubbing her temples. Anyone could make ice cream with these ingredients and a tutorial. Why did he have to come over in the middle of the night?

Oh right, Blaze was sick. He was a terrible paranoid.

There was no reasoning with a lunatic. Harper picked up the ingredients and started making the ice cream, while Blaze showed no interest in the process and walked out.

Before long, a tub of ice cream was successfully made, and Harper walked out with it.

Blaze was sitting on the couch, flipping through a stack of sketches. He tossed one aside after looking at it, littering the floor with her original sketches for the comic “His Possessiveness”.

“What are you doing? Stop throwing them around. So annoying!”

Harper marched forward. She loved drawing comics; it was not only her job but also her passion. Apart from Logan, it was the most precious thing to her.

“I knew it. You’re just pretending to be innocent,” Blaze taunted, not letting go of the sketches as he mocked her. “You draw these adult themes, with all this talk of schoolgirl seduction, handcuffs, whips… So, this is what you’re into?”

“If you like, I can indulge you too. What are we playing tonight? Whips or handcuffs?”

Feeling awkward, Harper tried to explain, “It’s just to fit the character’s personality. Give those back to me…” With one hand holding the tub of ice cream and the other reaching out to grab the sketches, Harper felt torn.

Blaze sat on the couch, raising his long arms above his head. His eyes scanned the words on the sketches as he read them aloud, each word dripping with innuendo. “Her warmth satisfied him greatly. The leather left red marks on her skin, as beautiful as blooming cherry blossoms… She made him sweat profusely, filling him with ecstasy…”

He deliberately emphasized each word, making Harper feel embarrassed. What she had drawn didn’t seem like a big deal to her before, just some scenes to fit the character’s personality. They weren’t even explicit, but now, hearing him read them out loud, she felt utterly humiliated.

“Mr. Wychwood, give them back to me!” Harper blushed furiously.

Blaze continued to mock, “Sex is just sex. Writing and drawing it so romantically is just being melodramatic.”

Harper wished she could dump the entire tub of ice cream on his head.

“Give them back to me, you pervert! ” As she knelt over him, desperate to retrieve her sketches. She didn’t even notice her position, with her knees wrapped around his waist.

Under the lights, Blaze could clearly see a faint sheen of tears in her eyes. He felt aroused. He let her take the sketches back.

Harper tossed the tub of ice cream at him and then quickly sat on the couch to gather her sketches.

Blaze stared at her petite face, her lips tightly pursed, looking especially tempting under the lights. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against hers.

“…” Caught off guard, Harper’s body tensed up. The next moment, she swiftly pulled away.

Dropping the tub of ice cream to the floor, Blaze pounced on her like a cheetah, pinning her down on the couch. He straightened her legs with one hand and held her waist tightly with the other, rendering her unable to move.

His eyes bore deeply into hers.

Harper understood what his gaze meant. “You… you gave me a week,” she managed to say, “This week, I am supposed to be free.”

“Yeah,” Blaze replied, his voice husky with desire, his tone as arrogant and domineering as ever, “I gave you a week to find evidence, not to mean I wouldn’t touch you!”

“You…” Harper attempted to protest, but Blaze cut her off by lowering his head and sealing her lips with his own. He forcefully pried her lips apart, his hot tongue invading her mouth. She wanted to resist, but his hand kept her hands pinned above her head.