Under His Obsession

by Cathryn Fox

  “I...don’t know.” She flips her hand over until it’s palm up. “My life...friends... New York.”

  “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say. “You once asked me why I didn’t live here, and I gave you the same answer.”

  “Yeah,” she says so quietly I have to strain to hear. She fiddles with the stem of her glass and takes a deep breath as she looks out over the ocean. “The truth is, Will, I don’t really have a reason to go back.” Without looking at me, she continues. “I lost my dad and have no family to speak of, other than my best friend, Steph. I used to think I was going to be a part of Liam’s big family.” Her smile is shaky, and her eyes are a bit glossy as she looks up at me. “I’ve always wanted that, you know. I always wanted to be a part of something great like that. I think I liked the idea of belonging to his family more than anything.”

  I step away from the grill and sit facing her. Sliding my hand across the table, I take her palm in mine and lightly brush my thumb back and forth over her flesh. “You should have that. Just not with him, because you shouldn’t change yourself for anyone. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  She chuckles. “Look at that. The one guy who likes me the way I am is an anti-marriage recluse.”

  “Khloe—”

  She holds her hand up to stop me. “It’s fine, Will. I’m not asking you for anything.”

  And now why does it feel like she kicked me again, except this time lower?

  “Anyway, I’m far from perfect, but thank you for the compliment.” She gives a humorless laugh and glances at our enclosed hands. “Steph is in my corner, but...” Her head lifts. “But we could always visit each other, I guess.” She looks at the ocean. “The people here are much nicer, more accepting.” She shrugs. “I said there was no right man for me in Manhattan, but here in Saint Thomas you never know, right?”

  An ugly burst of jealousy tightens my throat. The thought of another man’s hands on her curvaceous body...hell no.

  I swallow. Hard. And I try to sound normal when I say, “You’re a beautiful woman, Khloe. The right guy for you is still out there. You just haven’t found him yet.”

  “What about you, Will? You’ve locked yourself away in this villa. Do you really believe the cheating gene runs in your family?”

  “I did a bad thing, Khloe. Now I’m paying for it. I deserve to pay for it.”

  “You made a mistake. People make mistakes, and most times they get to deal with them in private. What happened to you, Starlight broadcasting your mistake all over the newsstands, it wasn’t fair. You deserve happiness. You’re a good guy, whether you think so or not.”

  “Do you know something I don’t?”

  Her entire body stiffens. “What do you mean?”

  Jesus, what is going on with her? Her body language is a clear giveaway that she does know something I don’t. But what? “You said I’m a good guy. Many think differently.”

  “Ah...” She takes a sip of wine and meets my eyes. “Amelia told me everything.”

  Unease worms its way through my veins. “What are you talking about?”

  “She told me you personally funded the new school. And the lunches that are delivered to the kids every day come from your granddad’s resort.”

  I frown and go back to the barbecue. With my back to her I ask, “Why would she tell you that? That’s not information I want out there.”

  “At first I thought you wanted to get the repairs done on James’s resort fast because it affected your bottom line, but you care about these people, don’t you? You wanted them back to work for their sake, not yours.”

  “I don’t like people knowing my business,” I grumble.

  She stands up, and when I turn to her, she walks over to me. Her palms lie against the sides of my cheeks. “Why don’t you want people knowing about all the good you do?”

  “I just don’t like it. My business is my business.”

  “After the spread in Starlight it might—”

  “I don’t need adoration, Khloe. I just need privacy.”

  “You have so many secrets, Will.”

  “Don’t we all,” I say, and her lashes fall quickly, hiding her expressive eyes.

  “I suppose,” she says, then goes quiet for a few seconds. “Wait, we’re breaking rule number seven here, and I know how important rules are to you,” she says. She sniffs the air. “How are those steaks coming?” she asks, changing the subject.

  “Medium-well, right?”

  “You got it.”

  “Then we’re good to go.” I take the steaks from the barbecue and set one on each plate as she disappears into the house and comes back with a salad. But when she sets it down, I see that look on her face again, and I’m convinced she wants to tell me something but isn’t exactly sure how. And I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Khloe

  WE STAND BEHIND a barrier and watch the adult parade make its way down Main Street. Honestly, I’ve never seen a carnival quite like the one they throw here in Saint Thomas. Women dressed in pink boots, colorful bikinis, headpieces and fluffy angel wings dance down the street to the music of “Soca Kingdom.” Another troupe comes behind them, and I gasp when I see the women bending forward, twerking, and the men holding their hips, simulating sex.

  “Whoa,” I say to Will, who turns and grins at me.

  He playfully wags his eyebrows. “A little racier than you thought?”

  “Definitely not the kind of parade I’m used to.”

  He jerks his head to the left. “Want to go?”

  “Nope.”

  Chuckling, Will puts his arm around me, and the guilt circling my stomach jumps into my throat. For the past week, I’ve been making secret phone calls, gathering information. And just the other night, I finally got hold of Avery Roberts, the journalist who’d caught Will with his pants down.

  I sort of told her I was doing a follow-up story, a small lie, and asked how she managed to get him in such a compromising situation. I hinted that I wanted something just as racy for the headline. She was reluctant to talk at first, but when she mentioned that she had a hatred of rich, arrogant men and I fully agreed, she loosened up a bit and admitted she once hit on Will and he stone-cold rejected her. That’s when it occurred to me she was out for blood, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it. Those pictures had always felt a bit off to me, and now I know why.

  The more we talked, the more she let slip, and I eventually learned she was behind the pictures—she’d personally set Will up to fall. Apparently, she’d contacted the girl who was to dance at Will’s bachelor party and paid her off to slip a roofie into his drink. Later that night, the stripper had led him to the bedroom and left a window open in the back of the house so Avery could get in to take the illicit pictures.

  The sheer horror of what she’d done—that she could destroy a good man’s life on purpose—left me speechless, and that never happens to me. Avery hadn’t just been out for a headline, she’d been out for revenge. As I mull that over now, my heart aches for the man and all he lost simply because some reporter wanted to get even.

  As my stomach cramps, I once again try to figure out how to tell him. I can’t keep that information to myself, but I’m not sure how to say it. I nearly blurted it out the other night when he was barbecuing, but something horrible and selfish had stopped me. I’m stupidly falling for the man—how could I not—and once he knows the truth, he’ll go back to Naomi, the woman he’s never stopped loving. I hate myself right now, and I have to figure out how to tell him because he’s a good man, and he deserves the truth. He deserves the happiness he was denied.

  My phone buzzes, and I unzip my purse to grab it. My damn heart jumps into my throat when the word Starlight lights up my screen. Crap, it’s my old boss. I angle the phone so Will can’t see it and shove it
into the back pocket of my shorts.

  “Aren’t you going to answer?” he asks.

  “No, it’s not important.”

  He looks at me for a moment, his eyes narrowed, and I’m grateful when he doesn’t push. In a few short days, we’ll be headed back to the real world, and I’ll deal with Benjamin then. For now, I’m going to ignore his calls. But I can’t deny that I am curious. Why is he suddenly reaching out to me? Has he had a change of heart? Even if he has, I’m not going back to Starlight. I’d rather starve. But that won’t happen for at least a couple of months. Assistant to Will Carson pays well. One of his rules is he never hires the same woman twice. But I wonder if he’d make an exception. Bend the rules for me.

  Good God, girl, get it together.

  He doesn’t want more, and once he finds out he was set up, he’ll be begging Naomi to come back.

  Why, oh why, did I go and fall for him?

  We watch the parade until the end, and when the crowd begins to disperse, Will puts his hand on my back and leads me down the street.

  “How about we try some local cuisine?” he says as music blares from a band playing on the corner nearby and people bustle about. Will pulls me closer before I get lost in the hustle.

  “Sounds like a great idea,” I say, trying to push a little enthusiasm past the lump in my throat.

  His eyes narrow in on me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, fine.” I give him a little nudge. “Just thinking about what we might cross off the list tonight.” He laughs at that, and we make our way to the food tables. Will points out all the traditional food—everything from fungi, which is made with salted cornmeal, water and okra, to callaloo, a soup made from leafy greens, okra and meat. He stops at the table serving deep-fried pastry stuffed with chicken, beef, fish or vegetables. He rubs his stomach.

  “Pâté. Mmm. My favorite.”

  “They look yummy.”

  “Want to try?” Since I can tell he does, I nod. “I’ll grab us a couple,” he says, and pulls his wallet from his pocket. He hands over a stack of bills and in return receives six different pastries. “There’s a free table over there.” He gestures with a nod. “Grab it, and I’ll get us a couple painkillers.”

  “Painkillers?”

  He laughs. “It’s a local drink made with rum, pineapple juice, coconut and orange juice.”

  “All things I love.”

  I take the plate from him, weave my way through the loud, excited crowd, and drop down into a chair. I push my hair from my face and wonder how I’ll be able to eat when my stomach is a roiling mess. I almost laugh at that. I feel as ill today as I did when I first met Will—all those years ago in the back seat of the car. The truth is, we’ve been having sex, and it’s been great, but as I sit here, I actually miss his presence. I miss his tenderness, the gentleness in his touch. I spent my entire adult life taking care of myself, doing for myself, and this is all so...nice.

  “I thought that was you.”

  I glance up at the sound of a woman’s voice. “Bevey, it’s so nice to see you,” I say, and gesture for her to sit across from me. She readily accepts the invitation and sinks into the café chair.

  “I’m so glad I ran into you. Chardane talks about you nonstop.”

  I smile at that. “She’s a wonderful girl.”

  “I wanted to thank you for all you’re doing.” She makes a tsking sound. “It’s a shame you can’t stay on permanently.”

  “My life...well, New York,” I say, and she nods like she understands. Once again, I think of the offer Will made. I’m sure that offer will be rescinded once I tell him the truth and he goes and finds his true love. “If the circumstances were different,” I say.

  “Where is that man of yours?” she asks, and runs her hand over her pretty yellow-and-blue head scarf as she searches the crowd.

  “He’s not my—”

  “Oh, girl.” Her gaze flies to mine, and she waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t even go there with me.” She gives a big laugh. “I see the way you two look at each other.” She leans in. “Between us girls, I’ve never seen the man happier.”

  “Not even when he was with Naomi?” I blurt out without thinking, and then slam my mouth shut, wishing I hadn’t brought her up. I probably sound like a jealous teenager. Which wouldn’t be too far from the truth. Except I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman, and I knew what I was getting myself into when I wrote the rules for having sex with your assistant. I just never knew at the time Will was so sweet, loving and caring. I’d once told him I trusted no one. He’d said the same. Things have changed for me, and after everything we’ve been doing, is he capable of letting down his guard and trusting me?

  Bevey taps a long finger on the table. “Not even with Naomi,” she says with a slow shake of her head. “No one makes him smile the way you do.”

  My stupid heart jumps in my chest, and a smile I have no control over shapes my lips. My God, I must look like a fool.

  Bevey laughs again, confirming my suspicions that I do look like an idiot. “That’s what I thought. Girl, the first time you answered that door in that outfit, I knew you were going to give him a run for his money.”

  I cover my face. “I can’t believe he makes all his assistants wear such ridiculous outfits.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I drop my hands at the surprise in her voice. “I said I can’t believe—”

  “I know what you said.” Her brow furrows, and she briefly looks down. “Who told you he makes all his assistants wear those outfits?”

  “His grandfather, James. He told me Will had a strict dress code and that my closet would be full when I arrived. Why?”

  She grins like she’s privy to something I’m not, then lets loose a hoot of laughter. “That old son of a bitch, and two sizes too small at that.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Ignore me, I’ve had too much sun.”

  She turns from me when a shadow falls over our table. “There you are,” Bevey says, and stands to give Will a hug. He sets the drinks down and pulls her into his arms.

  After a quick embrace, she says, “I have to get back to my table. Raising good money with my johnnycakes.” She squeezes Will’s hand and gives him a wink. “You take good care of this one, Will.”

  He frowns thoughtfully as she leaves. “What was that all about?”

  I shrug and my phone rings in my back pocket. I continue to ignore it and take a sip of my drink. “Wow, this is delicious,” I say, and try not to think too hard on what Bevey told me. She can’t be right. Will can’t be happier with me than he was with Naomi, right? He pretty much said he still loves her.

  Will takes a bite of the pastry and moans. “You have to try this.” He holds it out to me, and his eyes focus on my mouth as I bite into the pastry. For a second, I can’t breathe or even chew. All I can do is stare back as heat and energy arc between us. My pulse picks up tempo, and I finally manage to chew and swallow.

  “You’ve got...” He leans toward me and brushes a crumb from my lip, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s leaning closer, then his mouth is on mine. Tender, exploratory at first, tasting, testing. But when I lean toward him, he deepens the kiss, and his tongue tangles with mine. His hand slides around my head and he grips a fistful of my hair. We exchange hot, hungry kisses born of need and frustration, but he halts abruptly when someone catcalls and tells us to get a room.

  He pulls back, and we’re both breathless. Silence falls heavy, our heated gazes locked. I bring my finger to my kiss-swollen lips and touch them lightly, the burning imprint of his mouth still there, ruining me for any other man. I am in so much trouble.

  “The rules,” he says, his voice rough and gruff. “We broke rule number five.”

  My brain races, spins, and I work to quiet it. “Remember how we replaced your rule for not sleeping with your ass
istant with ten new rules?”

  “Are you suggesting we replace the no-kissing rule with something else?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, what do we replace it with?”

  “No expectations,” I say. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even bat an eyelash. If he wanted more from me, wouldn’t he have reacted? Bevey can’t be right.

  “Fine,” he says. He continues to stare at my mouth, and I resist the urge to squirm. What is going through his head? His gaze lifts slowly, and as the black in his eyes bleed into the blue he asks, “Want to get out of here?”

  Before I can answer, he’s standing and taking my hand. People blur around me as he quickly guides me through the crowd, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so intense before. We get in his car, and less than ten minutes later, we’re entering his villa. As soon as I step through the door, he locks it and pushes me against it.

  “This mouth,” he says, and runs his thumb over my still kiss-swollen bottom lip. “It’s been making me crazy. I’ve wanted to taste you for so damn long now.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Rules.”

  “Right,” I say, barely able to fill my lungs as his entire focus falls to my mouth. Adoration, affection, worship dance in his eyes, and my heart crashes harder against my chest. I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip, and the groan that follows trickles through my body and settles deep between my legs.

  I place my hand on his hard chest and slide it down until I’m cupping his swelling erection. His eyes briefly close, and I reach for his zipper, but he stops me. I frown, and he steps into me, scoops me into his strong arms and carries me to his bed. He sets me down on the edge of the mattress and steps back, his gaze roaming over me, a slow, leisurely inspection. There’s a change in him, but it’s so slight I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t familiar with all his nuances. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve gotten to know this man...have fallen in love with him.

  “We go home soon,” he says.

  “I know,” I answer, and hold my breath, praying he wants more after we leave paradise but knowing it’s impossible. I fight the tears in my eyes, and while I should blurt out the truth and stop this before it goes any further, I can’t. I want—need—this one last night with him.