Endless Obsession (35 page)

I don’t know how long I laid in bed, crying, but eventually I fell asleep. My head hurts and I feel sick to my stomach when I open my eyes and remember all that transpired. I want to believe so much that Asher would never hurt me, but I don’t know what to believe. All I know is I want to go home. I don’t want to be here in his vicinity anymore. What started out as a dream vacation turned into one of the best times of my life, before turning into the worst. I really thought I found someone I could spend the rest of my life with. I guess that’s what I get for falling for someone I never really even knew. Yes, I’ve worked for Asher for quite a while now, but I never really knew anything personal about him.

I just don’t get why, if he was so obsessed with me, he didn’t come to me sooner like a real man would. Why keep it all a secret? Why send me mysterious flowers? Why put cameras in my house? I shudder at the thought. Why follow and check up on me everywhere? Why not just come to me and tell me how he felt? Why keep me in the dark? That would be the logical thing to do, right?

All these questions are ones I’ll never get the answers to, because now it’s too late. It doesn’t matter what the answers are, and I don’t want to know them at this point.

I pull myself from the bed and groggily make my way to the en suite bathroom. My mouth feels like I swallowed cotton balls and my body aches. I want nothing more than to wash off the feeling of Asher that he left behind from last night. I think back to the few times we had sex and thank God I’m on the pill because we never used a condom.

After spending thirty minutes in the shower and having another cryfest, I step out and dry myself off. I cried because I needed Asher’s smell off my body, but it hurt to wash it away, knowing I’ll never have it on me again.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see the mark he left behind last night, the one that left me feeling such pride and satisfaction. Now I just want to scrub it away. I hate knowing it’ll be there for several days to come, reminding me of what we had. Or what I
thought
we had.

Feeling disgusted, I turn and walk out to the bedroom and root around for some clothes. After pulling on a pair of black yoga pants, a blue short sleeved shirt and flip flops, I pack the rest of my stuff. I take my suitcase with my smaller travel bag on top and my purse over my shoulder out to the living room. I spy Asher sitting on the balcony. I put my stuff by the door and with a heavy heart and dread filling me, I head in his direction. I don’t want to see or speak to him, but I have to in order to get home.

Taking a deep breath, I pull open the sliding glass door, step through the threshold, and stop in my tracks. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since I last saw him, but the condition he’s in looks like I haven’t seen him in a week, and in that week he’s been out here the entire time. He’s sitting in a lounge chair, his legs spread wide and his hand is wrapped around a half empty glass tumbler. He’s still in his jeans with no shirt, but it’s his face that has my heart seizing. He looks haggard. When he hears me step outside, he slowly turns his head. His eyes are red and look dull, and his hair is more a disheveled mess than it normally is. He obviously hasn’t shaved since yesterday, because his face has a thin layer of dark hair. When he sees me, a small glimmer of light enters his eyes. He lifts his glass to his lips and empties it.

I shift on my feet and look away from him. “I’d like to go home now.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. I feel his eyes assessing me, but I keep mine away and wait him out. Eventually, out the corner of my eye, I see him set his glass down on the table before standing up. I take a step back when he walks my way. His gait is slow and cautious, but it makes me no less uneasy. I ache with uncertainty.

“Pop—” He starts, but I forestall him by holding up my hand.

I can’t hear him talk right now. I still don’t understand how I never recognized his voice when we spoke on the phone those few times, while he was acting as Sterling. Was I so enamored with him that I blocked out any recognition? I know he changed his accent slightly, but he can’t be that good.

“Please, just call the jet. I can’t…” I stop to clear my clogged throat and look at him. “I don’t want to be here with you.”

He stops and unbearable pain washes over his face before he wipes it clean, a determined look taking its place.

He nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket. It’s not the same one he used earlier. His eyes stay on me as he brings the phone to his ear.

“Phil, I need the jet back now.” He pauses a moment, then, “Yes, everything’s fine. Something unexpected came up.”

After a quick good-bye, he hangs up, slipping his phone back in his pocket. I stand there for several more seconds, before turning and walking back inside. I feel his presence behind me, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything else and stays far enough away. Without a word to him, I go back to my room and close the door behind me. Releasing the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I slump back on the bed. Tears prick my eyes, but I force them back.

I have no idea what to do with myself. I work for Asher, but there’s no way I can do that now, knowing what he did. I no longer trust him. I have some savings, but that won’t last me long. I’ll have to find another job. I have cameras in my house and have no idea where they are. I no longer feel safe there. I have a tracking device on my car. Asher pretty much said he wasn’t giving up on me, and I have no idea what he’s willing to do to get me to agree to be with him.

My phone jingles in my pocket. I pull it out and see Liv’s name. I push ignore, not ready to talk to her. She’ll know right away something is wrong, and I’m not ready to talk about it yet. She’s my best friend, and I’ll eventually have to tell her, especially since I’m not going back to work, but I need a few days to process and come to terms with what’s happened.

And hope I can get my damn chest to stop feeling like it’s caving in on me.

Watching Poppy walk away with slumped shoulders is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to see. I want to go to her and pull her into my arms and promise to never let anything hurt her again, but I know that’s the last thing she needs right now from me. I know she hates and fears me because of what transpired earlier. I don’t blame her, but it still hurts like a bitch. Seeing the fear in her eyes and having her confirm that fear, knowing I put that fear there, sucked all the breath from my lungs. I’ve never felt such pain as I did when she said I was scaring her. This is part of the reason why I waited so long to come forward. I just hope I’m so deep in her heart she can eventually forgive me and learn to trust me again.

I don’t want to leave Texas. This is the place I finally got to be myself with Poppy. It’s the place that I showed her my true feelings. The past few days have been some of the best in my life. But I know she needs time.

I walk back out on the balcony and grab my bottle of scotch, foregoing the glass this time. I take a swallow straight from the bottle as I walk to my room to pack my stuff. I slip on a black T-shirt and shoes and carry my suitcase out to the elevator, setting it beside Poppy’s. I look over at her door and see it still closed. I wonder what she’s doing in there. My heart begs me to check on her, but my head tells me I shouldn’t. I knew this was going to hurt when I told her who I was and what I’ve done, but I had no idea the pain would be so debilitating.

I take my half-empty bottle and carry it into the kitchen. After taking a few more hefty swallows, I set the bottle down on the counter. My eyes swing back to Poppy’s closed door. I need to tell her we need to leave to meet the jet, but if I’m honest with myself, I’m scared to see the look on her face. It damn near broke me before.

Manning up, I walk over to her door and tap on it lightly. She doesn’t answer, but I hear her sniffles on the other side. The pain in my chest intensifies.

Fuck, this hurts!

When she doesn’t bid me entrance, I pull in a deep breath, grab the knob, and push the door open. She’s lying on her side on the bed, her face buried in a bundled up sheet. Knowing it’s the sheet from my bed, my heart jumps at the knowledge she has to be smelling my scent right now. It takes everything in me not to go over, crawl into bed behind her and snuggle my face in her hair. Instead, I walk over slowly, not wanting to scare her. She still has yet to lift her head so I’m not sure if she knows I’m in the room. Her muffled sobs get louder the closer I get, sending sharp stabs of pain to the center of my chest.

My damn hands shake as I reach out and gently place one on her shoulder. Her body stiffens and she jerks away before turning to her back and showing me her tearstained face.

“Fuck,” I whisper hoarsely. My legs are no longer able to hold me up, so I drop to my knees beside the bed.

Seeing her in such agony and knowing it’s my fault is pure torture. I feel like the lowest bastard on the planet right now.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” I tell her in a low voice, dropping my head in shame.

She sits up and scoots back until she hits the headboard. She wipes at her eyes and tries to clear her face, but she’s not able to mask the ache in her eyes. It still lingers.

Still clutching the pillow to her chest, she says brokenly, “What are you doing in here? I told you—”

“I knocked,” I murmur. “But you didn’t answer. We need to leave. The jet will be at the airstrip soon.”

She eyes me warily for several seconds, before nodding and scooting to the other side of the bed and climbing off. She won’t even get close to me to get off the fucking bed.

Helplessly, I stand and follow her out of the room and walk over to the elevator where our stuff waits. When she tries to grab her suitcase and carry-on bag, I wordlessly take them from her. She tries to protest, but with a determined look from me, she backs off and steps into the elevator. She may be pissed at me, and I may be giving her time to come to grips with everything, but that doesn’t mean I won’t act like a gentleman.

The ride down is silent. I keep looking over at her, hoping she’ll look at me and give me some hope that this whole mess can be salvaged, but she keeps her eyes on the doors in front of her. I have no idea how I’m going make it through the next several days. Obviously, I need to remove the cameras from her house and the tracking device from her car. There’s no way I can keep them there now. It’s Sunday, so that means tomorrow is Monday, a work day, but I get the sense Poppy won’t be there. Regardless if she is or not, I’m not giving up. I refuse to believe this is over. There’s no way I’ll ever let it be. She’s clawed her way into my heart and there’s no way she’ll ever be able to get free of me. I won’t ever let that happen.

Once we make it to the tarmac, I lead a still silent Poppy aboard the plane. I greet the new attendant, Devin, glad to be rid of the aggravating Seraphina, and let him know we’re ready to take off as soon as Captain Hayes is ready.

When I walk Poppy to the seats we were sitting in before, she steps away and says, “I’d rather sit over here,” before dropping her purse to the aisle seat and sitting down next to the window, effectively letting me know I’m not welcome. I let her have her space for now, and take the aisle seat across from her. She stops Devin when he walks past and asks for three shots of liquor. I hate knowing she’ll be over there stressing over the flight on top of her hurting over what I did. Devin delivers the shots and she downs them back to back. She keeps her head facing the window, never looking my way.

I pull out my phone when I hear it ring in my pocket.

“You got something?” I ask after bringing it to my ear.

“Some guy wearing a black hoodie was lurking around her place,” Rex’s gruff voice replies. “He moved around to the back of the property. When I went to go confront the bastard, I don’t know if he caught wind of me or what, but he just disappeared. Not a fucking trace of him.”

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my hair. “We’ve got to catch this asshole. Things aren’t good on my end at the moment.”

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks dryly. I grind my teeth at his smart-ass comment.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” I bark. “You just worry about getting this guy. We’re heading home early. I want two men on her at all times.”

“You got it.”

“And, Rex? I want to see this guy before you turn him in.”

“There won’t be much left when I get through with him, but I’ll leave a few open spots for you.”

Once we hang up, I toss my phone to the empty seat beside me. Looking over, I see Poppy’s head turned my way, eyeing me. I can tell the alcohol has hit because her eyes look heavy. They flicker away from me down to the seat where my phone is sitting. I doubt she heard my conversation because the engines of the jet have already started, but she still looks worried. My guess is my own worry is reflected in my eyes. She looks like she wants to ask me what’s wrong, but she holds her tongue and looks back to the window. I’m glad she doesn’t ask, because I don’t want to lie to her any more than I already have, but I also don’t want to add to her stress by telling her someone was at her place again.

I want to obliterate this guy. He’s fucking with something that I consider mine and that’s something I won’t allow. Poppy is mine to protect, and I’ll do anything to do just that. In general, I’m not normally a violent man, but when you fuck with something that’s mine, well, that’s a different story. Poppy is the single most important thing in my life and there’s no way I’m going to let some sick bastard take her away, harm her, or continue to scare her.

Hayes announces over the intercom that we’re ready for takeoff. Devin comes by to take Poppy’s glasses and to ensure we’re both buckled in. I almost get up to go sit by her, but she seems to be relaxed in her seat at the moment. Her head is tilted back with her eyes closed, but her hands aren’t gripping the armrests like they were on the trip here. I don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol or her mind being occupied on other things, but she’s obviously not stressing over the flight.

I try to keep my mind on other things as well as we ascend into the air, but my eyes keep straying back to her. She hasn’t moved from her position, and I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. I grab my phone and shoot an email to Eric for an update and to let him know we’re headed home early. We were originally going to miss work on Monday, but there’s no sense in it now.

I pull up and answer a few more emails, trying my best to pay attention to what I’m doing, but my attention keeps going back to the silent and still woman across the way. Her head has fallen at an awkward angle and is leaning against the window. It’s a crick in the neck waiting to happen. I unbuckle and slide from my seat. Poppy doesn’t move when I stand beside her section of seats. Leaning over, I see that she did indeed fall asleep.

Even knowing she may wake up and freak out on me, I release her seatbelt. Carefully, I slip one arm beneath her knees and one behind her shoulders, and scoop her up into my arms. She unconsciously snuggles into my chest, and I can’t help the pleasure that it gives me. I give Devin a chin lift, indicating one of the doors at the back of the jet that leads to a small bedroom. He rushes forward and opens it, and I push it closed quietly behind me with my foot. I gently lay her down on the bed, praying she doesn’t wake up. A smile touches my lips as she rolls to her side with an unintelligible mumble.

I stand there and watch her for several moments, knowing it’s going to be a while before I can watch her sleep again, before my need to be near her overrules my need to give her space. Now that I’ve touched her as Asher, it’s going to drive me insane not being able to. I sit on the side of the bed and slip off my shoes before carefully lying down and pulling her back against my chest. She doesn’t protest. Even in her sleep, she recognizes her body as mine and mine as hers. Her hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail, leaving her neck exposed to me. My eyes land on the mark I left on her last night. Primal need has me wanting to mark her again, just to remind her who she belongs to. Instead, I lightly kiss the exposed skin. She moans in her sleep and shifts slightly, her hand landing on the arm I have wrapped around her waist. Her ass presses against my cock, bringing it to life. I bite back my groan of pleasure.

This is pure fucking torture, but I know it’s the only way to be close to her. I know I’m courting her anger by being here, but fuck it—I need this. I snuggle my face into her hair and inhale the fruity scent of her conditioner. My arms tighten around her, and I send up a silent prayer that she forgives me for everything I’ve done.

I feel her chest rise with a deep breath before her body stiffens. I wait for her to pull away from me, but surprisingly, she doesn’t. Instead, she stays still and just lays there in my arms. We’ve been here for hours. I felt the shift of the plane descending, so I know Hayes will be announcing for us to put our seatbelts on soon. I don’t want to move. I want to stay here forever.

I take a deep breath and bring up one of the subjects I’m sure she’s worried about.

“I’m going to have someone come by your place tomorrow to take out the cameras in your house,” I say against her neck. “And the tracking device on your car.”

She stiffens more at the reminder of her invaded privacy. I silently curse myself, but know that I needed to let her know to try to ease her mind. I don’t think it works, though.

“How did you get into my house?” she asks with a wobbly voice. I squeeze my eyes shut at her heartbreaking tone.