Page 58 of The Don’s Virgin Obsession

I found out after hacking his phone a month ago he had been watching her for years.

I didn’t invade his privacy because I missed him.

Because I knew something changed. Vaughn moved different when he was mentally gone. Quieter. Meaner. Distant.

I knew him too well.

What I found in that phone made me lose respect for him immediately.

Saved pictures of her company page. Screenshots of her work. Her itineraries. Passwords. List of niggas she dated. Her Instagram searched so many times it looked pathetic.

A virgin interior designer got this nigga losing his mind.

I laughed just thinking about it.

Vaughn St. Clair. The same man that once fucked me so hard I threw a lamp at his head afterward because I found another bitch lip gloss in his car. The same man that told me love was a distraction.

Now obsessing over a woman that probably barely liked him.

Pathetic.

I grabbed my keys.

Nah. He wasn’t about to quietly cut me off while acting healed and reformed for some office bitch.

I needed my lick back.

By the time I pulled up to his penthouse downtown, I was already irritated again. His security knew me, unfortunately, so getting upstairs wasn’t hard.

He opened the door shirtless, tattoos, gray sweats hanging low on his waist.

Still fine.

Still toxic.

Still emotionally bankrupt for me.

“What you doing here?” he asked immediately.

I pushed past him. “Damn, can I come in?”

“You already did.” He shut the door behind me.

The penthouse smelled like weed and expensive cologne and plug ins. Same as always.

I looked around. “You here alone?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That little designer bitch, Sade, ain’t here?”

He frowned instantly. “Why would she?”

I smirked. “Oh wow. Touchy.”

“Watch out.”

I laughed. “For what? You in love now?”