Dangerous Obsession

Chapter 1: The Interrogation

Ingrid stepped out of the elevator on the top floor of Hilton Tech Industries, her black satin corset-style dress hugging every curve of her thick, curvy frame. The sweetheart neckline dipped just low enough to tease, and the short hemline showed off her sheer thigh-high stockings clipped to garter straps. Her platform Louboutin pumps clicked with authority on the polished marble floor. Her long, wavy black hair with blonde and blue highlights cascaded messily down to her plump ass, framing her hazel eyes and thick lashes. She didn’t notice the hungry stares from the staff as she walked past, chin high, oblivious to the lust and admiration trailing her every step. To her, they were just curious. To them, she was a fucking goddess.

She knocked on the heavy oak door of Richard ‘Dick’ Hilton’s office. A low, commanding voice growled, 'Come in.' She pushed the door open and stepped inside, her presence filling the room before she even spoke. Dick stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, whiskey glass in hand, sleeves rolled up to reveal veined, tattooed forearms. His blonde hair was tousled, like he’d dragged his fingers through it one too many times, and his pale blue eyes darkened the second they landed on her. His jaw clenched, and his pants tightened instantly, a reaction that pissed him off to no end. He didn’t pause for anyone, didn’t react like some horny teenager. Yet here he was, cock stirring at the sight of this short, curvy woman who walked in like she owned the damn place. Who the fuck was she, and why was she already a problem?

Ingrid’s soft, melodic voice broke the silence, smooth like honey with a hint of Rihanna’s sultry edge. 'Mr. Hilton, I’m Ingrid Moeng. I’m with the California PD, here to ask a few questions about the recent incident involving your employees.'

Dick turned fully to face her, a smirk curling his plump lips as he set the whiskey down. His gaze raked over her, unapologetic, lingering on her thick thighs and the way the dress cinched her waist. 'Incident, huh? That’s a cute way to say murder. And call me Dick. Mr. Hilton makes me sound like my old man, and I’m far more… entertaining.'

Ingrid rolled her eyes, biting her lip absentmindedly—a habit that made Dick’s grip on control slip another notch. She didn’t even realize how that little move made her look like she was begging to be kissed. 'Fine, Dick. Let’s keep this professional. I’m not here for entertainment. I’m here for answers. What can you tell me about the three men who were killed?'

He stepped closer, his muscular frame towering over her 5’5 height, but she didn’t flinch. His scent—woodsy cologne and a hint of whiskey—hit her, and she shifted on her feet, talking a little too fast. 'I mean, they worked for you. Did they have enemies? Any reason someone would want them dead?'

Dick chuckled, low and rough, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. 'Sweetheart, everyone’s got enemies in this game. But if you’re asking if I know who pulled the trigger, I’ll save you the trouble—I don’t. I left that warehouse two hours before the shots. Check the footage. I’m clean. Though I gotta say, you walking in here dressed like that, I’m starting to feel real dirty.'

Ingrid’s hazel eyes narrowed, but her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her dress, a nervous tic. 'I’m not here for your cheap lines, Dick. I’m here to figure out if you’re hiding something. So, let’s try this again. Why were you at the warehouse that night?'

He leaned against his desk, crossing his arms, the tattoos on his forearms flexing with the movement. His smirk widened. 'I own the damn place, Ingrid. I check on my properties. Make sure no one’s fucking with what’s mine. You know, I’m real good at protecting what I want. And right now, I’m wondering if I should start protecting you from how bad I wanna bend you over this desk.'

Her mouth dropped open for a split second before she snapped it shut, rolling her eyes again. 'You’re ridiculous. Do you flirt with every woman who walks in here, or am I just lucky?'

Dick’s grin turned predatory as he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. 'Oh, you’re lucky, alright. But I don’t flirt with just anyone. Only the ones who walk in looking like they’re begging for trouble. And baby, that dress? It’s screaming for me to rip it off.'

Ingrid’s breath hitched, but she squared her shoulders, refusing to back down. Her voice stayed steady, even as her words tumbled out a little too quickly. 'Keep dreaming, Dick. I’m not here to be your next conquest. I’m here to do my job. So, unless you’ve got something useful to say about the murders, I’m wasting my time.'

He tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle he was dying to solve. 'Alright, I’ll play nice. For now. Those men? They were low-level. Tech support. No reason for anyone to target them unless it was to get to me. Someone’s trying to frame me, Ingrid. And I don’t take kindly to being played. But you? I’d let you play me all damn night.'

She let out a short, exasperated laugh, shaking her head. 'You’re impossible. Do you ever turn it off?'

'Not when I’m looking at you,' he shot back, his voice dripping with intent. He took another step, closing the distance until she could feel the heat radiating off him. Her heart raced, but she held her ground, her hazel eyes locking with his. The tension in the room was thick, electric, a current neither of them could ignore.

Ingrid tilted her chin up, her voice dropping to a teasing lilt despite herself. 'Careful, Dick. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you’ve got something to hide. Or are you just trying to distract me?'

His eyes darkened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. 'Oh, I’ve got plenty to hide, sweetheart. But right now, the only thing I wanna do is show you how fucking hard you’ve got me just standing there.'

Her lips parted, words failing her for a moment as the rawness of his statement hit. She shifted again, her thighs pressing together instinctively, unaware of how that little movement made Dick’s control fray at the edges. He noticed, though. He noticed every damn thing. His hand twitched, itching to grab her, to pull her against him and feel that curvy body pressed to his. He wanted to taste those plump lips, to hear that soft voice moan his name while he buried himself in her wet, dripping pussy.

Ingrid recovered, barely, her voice a little breathier now. 'Focus, Dick. Answers. Now.'

But as he opened his mouth to reply, his gaze dropped to her lips, and the air between them crackled with unspoken need. They were seconds away from combusting, the line between professional and primal blurring fast. His cock was rock hard in his pants, and she was starting to feel a heat pooling between her thighs, even if she didn’t fully understand why. The room felt smaller, hotter, and neither of them was backing down.