the obsession begins

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Chapter Three: The Obsession Begins

The next morning, the hospital was buzzing about the mysterious mafia man who had survived a near-fatal gunshot wound.

Aanya kept her head down, moving quietly through the halls. But her mind was racing.

Damien Orlov had asked for Rhea. Remembered her touch.

> It’s starting, she thought grimly. He’s already forming the bond. The obsession.

She glanced down the corridor toward the ICU. His door was closed. Armed guards stood outside. No one got in without clearance.

> In the novel, he pulls strings to get Rhea transferred to his private care team. Within days, he becomes her shadow.

She had to stop that.

But first, she needed to know what version of Damien she was dealing with. The early chapters painted him as cold, unreadable. But the reader knew what lay beneath — his paranoia, his need for control, his trauma twisting into something dangerous.

> He doesn’t know this is fiction. He believes in what he feels. That’s what makes him lethal.

“Intern Sharma,” a familiar voice called.

She turned to see Rhea approaching, clipboard in hand. Her face was bright, unaware of the storm that hovered just beyond.

“Hey,” Rhea said cheerfully. “Guess who requested me personally for a follow-up consultation?”

Aanya froze.

“Don’t tell me…”

Rhea laughed. “Our mafia prince, of course. He actually remembered my name.”

Aanya tried to smile. “That’s… something.”

“Creepy or charming?” Rhea asked with a wink. “Be honest.”

Aanya didn’t respond.

She wanted to grab Rhea by the shoulders and yell: It’s creepy. It’s dangerous. He’s going to ruin you.

But how could she explain any of this?

So instead, she said calmly, “You should be careful with men like him. Trauma doesn’t make people noble, Rhea. Sometimes it just makes them violent.”

Rhea blinked, surprised by the sharpness in her tone. “You sound like you know him personally.”

> I do, Aanya thought. I’ve read his whole life like an autopsy.

“I just know the type,” she said aloud. “Be careful.”

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ICU Room 14

Damien sat upright now, pale but alert, dressed in a black silk robe. A glass of water sat untouched by his bed.

When Rhea entered, he didn’t smile — he simply watched her. Every movement. Every word. Like he was memorizing her.

“Doctor Sharma,” he said softly.

His accent was Russian, but smooth. Controlled. Dangerous in its calmness.

“You saved me.”

“It was a team effort,” she said, smiling politely. “But I’m glad you’re recovering.”

“I remember pain. And then… your hands. Your voice.”

Rhea paused, her smile faltering. “I was doing my job.”

“You cared,” he said.

She didn’t respond. Just checked his IV line.

Damien tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“There was someone else in the room last night. Another girl. Young. She didn’t look afraid of me. Most people are.”

Rhea nodded. “That would’ve been Aanya. She’s one of our new interns.”

“Intern.” Damien repeated the word like it was a title.

Rhea finished her checks. “You should rest. No more business calls, and definitely no cigars.”

But Damien didn’t hear her anymore. He was staring out the window, a strange expression on his face.

> “Aanya…”

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Hospital Courtyard – That Night

Aanya sat under the covered walkway, reviewing files and pretending not to be watching.

She knew Damien would try to leave his room soon. He’d want control. Information. Power.

Footsteps clicked against the stone path.

She looked up.

He was there.

No guards. No doctors. Just him — pale, wounded, but somehow still imposing. The rain had started again, lightly misting the air.

“I hoped I’d find you,” Damien said.

Aanya stood slowly. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“You knew I would come.”

She didn’t deny it.

“You look at me like you know who I am,” he said, stepping closer. “Not just my name — but the real me. As if we’ve met before.”

Aanya’s heart pounded, but her voice stayed calm. “I know what kind of man you are.”

“Do you?” he asked softly. “Then tell me… what do you see?”

“I see a man used to getting what he wants. A man who doesn’t know the difference between obsession and love.”

Damien’s jaw tightened. “Obsession is honest. It doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not.”

He stepped even closer.

“You’re different,” he whispered. “You don’t want anything from me. That’s rare. That’s… fascinating.”

“I’m not a puzzle for you to solve,” Aanya said, stepping back.

“But you already solved me,” he murmured. “Didn’t you?”

Lightning flashed.

And just like that… the game had changed.

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