Obsession Chapter 4 Part 2
CHAPTER 4 · PART TWO
Obsession
Lily was late to our dinner date.
Thirty whole minutes late—and still no sign of her.
I tapped my finger against the polished wood table, the sharp sound matching the irritation bubbling inside me. Time was currency, and this felt like burning thousand-dollar bills for sport.
Normally, I would’ve walked out. But I needed this—needed her. Her father held the keys to connections that could swing my campaign, and her pristine sweetheart image was a golden ticket with Gen Z.
“Do you want another bottle of wine? Or maybe a meal this time?” the waitress asked, leaning closer than necessary.
I didn’t look at her. “I’m good.”
Hooking up with a random waitress was the last thing I needed—especially one who could sell the story to the press.
I reached for my phone, ready to call Weston and tear into him—then I saw her.
Lily walked in, heading straight for my table.
She wore a purple mini dress that clung to her like a second skin, Louboutin heels elongating her legs. Golden hair spilled down her back, catching the soft lighting. Effortless perfection.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so late,” she said, sliding into the seat across from me. “Traffic was a little bitch.”
I lifted my wine glass slowly. “I hope next time won’t be like this.”
“I apologize,” she said smoothly. “Kansas City traffic is criminally under-discussed.”
“It’s fine.”
I ordered chicken parmesan. She ordered filet mignon—medium rare, asparagus on the side.
Once the waitress left, Lily leaned back. “I assume this is important. My manager made it sound… serious.”
“He wasn’t wrong.”
I slid a folder across the table.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“A marriage proposal.”
Her laugh cut sharp. “You’re joking.”
“A mutually beneficial marriage,” I corrected. “Between you and me.”
“What could I possibly gain from you?” she asked coolly.
I leaned forward. “I know your biggest goal. And I can help you achieve it—while you help me achieve mine.”
Her confidence faltered—just a fraction.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.
“Try me.”
She twirled her champagne glass. “And why should I?”
I lowered my voice. “Because you want your father to see you. To truly see you.”
She scoffed. “So I should marry you to prove my worth?”
I nodded.
“You’re cocky.”
“I’m strategic.”
“I’ll see it however the fuck I want.”
“And yet,” I said calmly, “you’re listening.”
Her fork hovered mid-air. “Everyone says my sister is his legacy.”
“I don’t,” I replied. “I see you.”
She laughed softly. “And marrying you unlocks my potential?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “Becoming the wife of a future president raises your bar.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So I become your shadow?”