Page 3 of Obsessed Mr. O’Brian

“She’s mine,” a gravelly voice says from the side hall.

Disbelief spears through me.

It’s been over a decade since I heard that voice, but I remember it clear as day. All the blood drains from my head as I meet Artur O’Brian’s unforgiving eyes.

He’s painfully handsome in a tailored suit, and although he looks much older than the last time I saw him, the weathered edge only makes him seem more distinguished.

I pull myself together for the little girl’s sake and treat her as I would any other wandering child.

I kiss the top of her head, lower myself to a knee, and place her on her feet.

“Daddy needs a hug too, lovie,” I whisper in her ear.

She scrunches her face and clings to me. I fix her hair with a playful tug and kiss her head again.

“Go on. I’ll dream of seeing you again soon,” I say.

It’s not a lie. Her face will visit my dreams for the rest of my life.

She’s the child I’ll never have with the only man I’ve ever loved.

Artur O’Brian holds his hand out expectantly for the little girl. She slips her thumb into her mouth as she takes it.

Without a backward glance, I rejoin the bridal party.

There is no going back. I made my choices.

But it still hurts so stinking much.

I miss Artur O’Brian every miserable day of my life.

At least I didn’t also run into Regina. Seeing her perfect figure and bright, beautiful eyes after so long would break me.

It’s best they all stay as far away from me as possible. Our chance encounter needs to stay just that. We can’t meet again.

Fate laughs at me. Premonition promises future agony. We’re bound to cross paths again.

Artur O’Brian and his adorable daughter will visit my dreams every night until the day I die.

My soul rejoices even as sorrow encases my heart.

Chapter 2

Artur O’Brian

With my heart pounding in my ears and my half-hard cock pulsing in my pants, I grit my teeth and lead my daughter away from the most selfish, irresponsible woman I’ve ever had the displeasure to lay eyes on.

Because of her, I almost died thirteen years ago. I wouldn’t have been at that bus stop if she hadn’t dragged Regina, the girl I was pursuing, out there in the pouring rain just so she could draw the drenched cityscape.

The fury festering in my soul has no outlet, making the throbbing of my cock infinitely more frustrating.

No woman in my entire life—not even Regina—has inspired such a visceral reaction in me. Tragically beautiful, with pale blue eyes, light brown hair, and soft features, Millie Grant is an ethereal, older version of the girl I vaguely remember. She’s the only person I’ve gotten hard just looking at. Her serene smile, the delight shining from her wide eyes, and her perfect curves as she scooped up Lola with familiar ease awakened a part of me I didn’t know existed.

My gut clenches at the memory of her tossing my daughter in the air. Her audacity confounds me. She threw a stranger’s child not knowing whether it was safe or not.

I guide Lola into the quiet room reserved for crying babies and nursing mothers, breathe a silent sigh of relief when it proves empty, and drop into a low squat in front of her.

“I need to check your g-tube, baby. Just a quick peek,” I say.