Intrigued by the CEO: Paranoid Obsessions

On the edge of the city, Empire Castle stood tall within the forest.

It is magnificent and spectacular, manifesting a sense of mystery.

Hot.

So hot.

On an English-style bed, a young girl lay fast asleep. She was draped in a gorgeous sheer fabric. Sweat trickled down her delicate face, sliding off her thin lips.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Ugh… so hot…”

Harper Shaw murmured as she woke up groggily.

This was a luxurious yet unfamiliar room. Some 14th-century Western oil paintings adorned the walls, swaying in her blurry vision.

‘Where was this place?’ She thought to herself, looking around.

In the corner on a curved sofa, a man sat in the shadows. He was tall and slender, elegantly swirling a wine glass in his pale, long fingers.

“Who are you? Why was it so hot in here?”

As Harper spoke, she realized her voice was hoarse.

Too hot.

“Finally awake? I was about to crank the AC up to 88 degrees and roast you alive!” A male voice echoed in the sweltering room, its arrogant tone sending chills down the spine.

‘Roast alive? What does that mean?’ Harper didn’t know what it meant.

Sweat dripped into her eyes, obstructing her vision.

She heard heavy footsteps.

The man stood by her bed, his legs long and straight.

When she lifted her head-Handsome face, delicate features, thin lips beneath a straight nose-he was fatally sexy.

Despite the severe heat in the room, there wasn’t a drop of sweat on the man’s face, he remained elegant and composed.

This man, like someone straight out of a magazine, was quite young.

‘Uh, why did he look familiar? Where had I seen him before?…’Harper pondered, staring at the man in bewilderment. But soon, she snapped out of it, because the man took out a silver pistol.

And the barrel was aimed directly at her.

“Huh? What was going on? What were you doing? Who were you? What did you want?”

Harper was startled and tried to lean back. The sheer fabric draped over her almost slipping off.

But the man stepped closer to her, the cold barrel of the gun pressing against her flushed face.

The barrel of the gun slowly descended, gliding over her lips, the tip of her chin, then onto her beautiful collarbone.

It lingered there, almost caressing her like a finger.

“Where’s the child you bore for me?” The man stood before her, his voice cold and stern, his deep gaze scanning her voluptuous figure beneath the sheer fabric.

“What?” Harper was bewildered.

“Three years ago, you were pregnant with my child. Where is the child now?” The barrel of the gun drew circles above her chest.

“A child?” Harper was perplexed. It took her a while to calm down. “I mean… are you mistaken? I don’t know you. I’ve never had a child… I don’t even have a boyfriend…”

“Harper Shaw, 24 years old, third-rate manga artist, currently residing in S City. Shall I recount the backgrounds of every school you attended, every friend you made, and every member of your family?” He looked at her indifferently, dismissing any possibility of being mistaken.

What he said… was all correct.

Harper stared blankly at his excessively handsome face. “But, sir, I really don’t know you. If I didn’t even know you, how could I have had your child?”