Bittersweet Obsession

"I'm sorry, sir."

Judson looked at the girl standing in front of him. She examined him cautiously, her big blue eyes wide open and her lips just a little bit apart.

The woman-the girl-who hadn't even hit her twenties and messed up in her job as one of his hired mourners and even making out with his brother. He was irritated when she called him "sir."

Judson glanced at her from head to toe, observing her feet, slender legs, ugly black dress, and the black veil she wore to conceal her dark brown hair. He finally looked straight at her face. She still had bangs, and the rest of her straight, long hair fell down over her shoulders.

She became nervous when Judson didn't move to let her go and looked up to see what was going on. She was surprised by how intense his gaze was.

He couldn't help but admit that the bangs actually looked pretty good on her. There she was, a lovely young girl. In her cheap dress, she resembled more of a carefree teenager than a mature woman, definitely not a wife and mother. With trembling fingers, she gently brushed her bangs, feeling a rush of warmth spread across her cheeks.

With a graceful motion, she let her hand fall to her side and stood up tall. "Excuse me, sir. I want to express my concern without causing any harm to your feelings. It's important for us to avoid being alone together unattended, considering how close we're now."

Judson looked at Tamara very carefully, and his eyes narrowed as he observed her. He didn't back away, finding it strangely interesting that she wasn't scared away by his strong presence and the power he had. With a slight smile on his lips, as if he liked how she was being stubborn, he asked, "Don't you know who I am?"

Tamara looked straight into his intense gaze, and her expression was unwavering even though he was looking at her very closely. She frowned and gave a slight shake of her head. The truth was that she didn't know who he was, and his question only made her more determined to stand up to his power.

"I'm sorry, should I?" She replied with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

His irritation grew as he responded, his voice laced with impatience, "It sounds like you don't know what you're talking about, doesn't it? Well, let me enlighten you. I'm Judson Beauregard, and my name has more power and influence in this city than you could possibly think."

Tamara was taken aback. Her eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. The man standing in front of her was Judson Beauregard, Henry's father. He stood at the helm of the most influential family in the entire city, a position that commanded respect and awe from all who crossed his path.Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

She arched an eyebrow and spoke in a skeptical tone to hide the fact that she wasn't familiar with him. "Judson Beauregard? Should your name mean anything to me? I'm sorry, but I don't keep up with the city's elite people."

She raised her chin, attempting to look taller. Although her show was impressive, her trembling fingers and wide eyes betrayed her underlying fear.

He took a step closer with a menacing look. "Girl, I just want to say a few words to you quickly. People will be around soon, and we'll hardly have enough time to talk."

In a soft voice, she said, "Sir, this is inappropriate."

Still backed up against that shelf, Tamara looked at him with doubt. He took a step back, giving her the space she needed.

"The way I see it... it seems that you're trespassing, girl. Who knows, you might be spying on us. This is a private property, and you just went ahead and barged in without permission," he grumbled, his voice dropping to a low, simmering tone. She looked away. "Sir, I was enjoying the beautiful scenery in the garden when I saw two love birds kissing and making out passionately. Just as I was about to leave quietly, that pervert guy attacked me out of the blue. That time you came out of nowhere and caught me by surprise. It's funny that you went ahead and blamed me for things I never even did. Seriously? I mean, talk about jumping to conclusions! It's like you were determined to pin the blame on me, no matter what. But I guess that's just how some rich people are, always ready to point fingers without any evidence. It's absolutely ruthless!"

Damn! This girl definitely had a tongue that could cut through steel! It was sharp as a razor. None want to mess with her, that's for sure. She had a way with words that could leave anyone speechless. It was like she had a never-ending arsenal that seemed to stretch on forever.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he motioned toward the armchairs. "Can we talk?"

She tilted her head as if she was trying to figure out what he meant. "Yes, of course."

Judson waited for her to sit down before he took his own seat. She crossed her legs and straightened her bangs again, but her face turned red when she realized him watching.

Her nose began to twitch. "Sir, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else about this—"

"Don't call me sir," he snarled.

She gasped and was flabbergasted. "How should I call you then?"

"How about you call me Judson?"

"Alright, Judson. Don't call me girl, either. I've got a name." She pursed her lips and shook her head disapprovingly. "I... I'm Amber Lambton."

From the moment his gaze fell upon her, Tamara knew she had to play it cool. With a flick of her imagination, she decided to ditch her real name and adopt her mother's maiden name instead. She had considered that this little white lie would shield her from any more of those pesky entanglements with him.

His lips curved into a faint, almost sardonic smile. "Touché, Miss Lambton. I'll remember to call you properly."

She looked at him with a wicked smile on her face and a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. But in the blink of an eye, her expression changed. Suddenly, she looked sad and serious. "I'm sorry for what happened to Henry. I-"

"I'm not in the mood to talk about my dead son," he grumbled.

Tamara gave a short nod while biting her lower lip.

Why on earth did she have to be cute and innocent? In a sea of teenage girls, their faces covered with layers of makeup that seemed to magically turn them into ten years older than their true age but she stood out. She refused to conform to the norm, opting for a more natural look.

She seemed to be seventeen, and it was unlikely that she would suddenly look older in the next few months when she reached the age of eighteen.

With a gentle flick of her hand, she pulled back a strand of her hair, allowing a glimpse of a delicate sun earring.

"Do you always wear this kind of ugly dress?" Judson casually gestured to her outfit.

She took a quick look down her body with a small frown on her face. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as her gaze met his. "This is the best dress I have."

A little grin formed on his lips. "Well, that's a shame. You should wear something better to the funeral, especially in this mansion."

"I don't see how it matters," she snapped back.

"It matters for me."

Judson walked across the room, his steps purposeful yet relaxed, until he reached the desk. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he reached out and effortlessly pulled open the drawer. His fingers were moving over the sheets as he looked for something in particular and then pulled out a piece of paper.

"What is that?"

"What does it seem like to you?"

He started to write down a few more sentences on it before shoving it to her.

"Is it an agreement?"

"It's kind of it. I whipped up a statement letter for you to sign, just to confirm that what you've been spouting is indeed the real deal. Just so you know, if I ever catch wind of you trying to deceive me, I won't hesitate to take you to court," he warned her. "Since you're still very young, you should count your lucky stars, Miss Lambton, for I could have easily taken you to court and made your life a whole lot more complicated. I'm very generous today because it's funeral day. But don't get too excited just yet. You must sign this paper, only then you finally be free to hit the road."

Tamara shuddered and was taken aback for a moment. This guy was extremely serious about what he said.

She couldn't help but feel a pang of bitterness as she gazed at the person in front of her, the one who seemed to have found a way to collect a fortune by preying on the vulnerable, just like her. It was a moment of realization, a glimpse into the dark underbelly of the world she had unwittingly stumbled upon.

The truth hit her like a punch to the gut, leaving her feeling exposed and betrayed. How could someone find success by ensnaring persons like her, who were simply trying to make ends meet?

Letting out a sigh of resignation, she decided to go along with him and play his little game. After all, what harm could it do?

With a fierce determination burning in her eyes, she boldly scrawled her signature across the paper. The pen, like a war hammer, crashed down onto the table. She fixed her gaze upon him, her stare a defiant challenge that dared him to oppose her.

A few moments later, she turned away. "Is there anything else you want from me, besides what I wear and those accusations you're throwing my way?"

He rose to his feet. "No. Now you should probably leave before people find out that we're alone."

He was absolutely the last person on earth she would ever want to bump into. Seriously, out of all the people in the entire world, it had to be him.

Tamara couldn't help but wish she'd never lay eyes on him again. The mere thought of his presence made her stomach churn with unease. She didn't think that Judson would take his words seriously. But little did she know, fate had other plans in store for her. She was about to discover that her wish was nothing more than a fleeting desire, for the universe had a different agenda...