His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 431

South Hill.

When Archer Vanderbilt walked through the door, he noticed only a single floor lamp left on in the living room.

Virginia Caldwell wore a sage-green loungewear set, curled up on the sofa, scrolling aimlessly on her iPad.

His predatory gaze darkened as he softened his footsteps and approached.

The dim amber light and the glow from the screen illuminated her luminous, stunning profile and silky dark hair, adding an aura of gentle tranquility.

Perhaps fueled by the alcohol, his gaze slowly fixed on her soft, inviting lips. A second later, he leaned over, planting both hands on the armrests and trapping her entirely within his embrace.

Virginia had been engrossed in an email. It wasn't until his signature Oud & Bergamot scent, heavily laced with liquor, washed over her that she finally looked up.

She hated the smell of alcohol. Frowning, she was just about to push him away when his heavy frame pressed down.

Archer gripped her chin and kissed her without warning.

The kiss was urgent and suffocating, carrying a man's desperate restraint and the overwhelming taste of alcohol.

His long, elegant fingers cupped the back of her head, forcing her lips to part so he could plunder her breath with a greedy intensity, leaving her zero room to retreat.

Virginia stiffened instantly.

The overwhelming scent of liquor made her stomach churn. Almost on instinct, she raised her hands and shoved hard against his chest.

But Archer only held her tighter. "Ginny..."

He panted against her lips, his voice incredibly hoarse. "Let's stop fighting, okay?"

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, holding her close. "Let's just go back to how things were. Let's be happy."

Virginia stopped struggling, letting him hold her, though her hands remained firmly planted against his chest.

For a moment, the living room was terrifyingly quiet.

"Archer," she said suddenly, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. "You're drunk."

Archer froze.

He lifted his head to meet her gaze.

Those beautiful, expressive eyes held no anger, no grievances—only a chilling, impenetrable clarity and distance.

But her gaze on the iPad had lost its focus, and a profound, undeniable sorrow surfaced in her eyes.

......

Early the next morning at the Vanderbilt Group executive suite.

Archer wore a bespoke dark gray shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up to reveal his lean forearms and a beaded bracelet resting on his wrist.

He sat behind his expansive desk, his expression indifferent as he flipped through a file. He looked so focused and intensely cold that it seemed the man who had lost control last night was an entirely different person.

A knock sounded at the door.

He gave a brief confirmation.

Evelyn Snow walked in, carrying a cup of black coffee.

She wore a simple, elegant white dress today, her long hair secured in a classic updo, her makeup applied to look flawlessly natural.

"Mr. Vanderbilt, your coffee."

She placed the cup gently on the desk, letting her fingertips linger deliberately on the rim for two full seconds.