Obsessed: A Billionaire Love Triangle

by Mia Ford

  “What?”

  “I know you’re going to fire me,” I said miserably. “I know that’s what’s going to happen. Just, please – do it quickly. Please don’t humiliate me.”

  Anne Marie and Principal Morris exchanged an odd glance.

  “June, we’re not going to fire you.”

  “What?”

  Anne Marie laughed nervously. “No. We’re here to ask you back, and we’re going to pay you for your time off, too.”

  “What…why?”

  “June, you’re a very good teacher,” Principal Morris said gently. “Your class seems to love you. Ruth, your assistant, speaks very highly of you.”

  “But…but…what about Andy?”

  Annie Marie and Principal Morris glanced at each other again, this time less warmly.

  “Andrew Lipinski has been fired, immediately,” Anne Marie said. “We’ve decided to file charges against him.” She pursed her lips. “There’s just one problem.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What? What’s going on?”

  Principal Morris cleared his throat. “We haven’t been able to locate Andrew,” he said. “Neither have the police.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I doubt they’re looking very hard.” I bit my lip, wondering if I should mention anything about the encounter in the alley, or the weird burned dolls. In the end, I decided it was for the best if I didn’t mention any “drama” that had taken place outside of school.

  “Well, as soon as we find him, he’ll be arrested.”

  I bit my lip. My head was a confusing swirl of emotions and I had no idea what I was supposed to say.

  “I…I can’t believe you’re not firing me,” I said quietly.

  “We had no intention of firing you at all,” Principal Morris replied. “June, I’m very sorry for the stress we’ve caused you. But I promise – this was just a procedural thing.”

  I nodded. “Well, thank you very much.”

  “So, will you come back?”

  My eyes filled with tears and I nodded happily. “Oh, yes,” I said quickly. “I can’t wait.”

  “Good,” Principal Morris replied. “Why not take tomorrow off and come in on Monday?”

  “Sounds good.” I sniffled, wiping my nose on my hand. “Thank you.”

  I left P.S.151 before I could start crying for real, but as soon as I was outside, the truth hit me and I shrieked, jumping up and down. I didn’t even care that I was in public – I didn’t care who saw me, as long as they knew how happy I was.

  “I didn’t get fired!” I shrieked, dancing around in a little circle. I’d practically skipped all the way to the subway station before I remembered Thomas and Angela. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I called Thomas immediately.

  “Thomas, I didn’t get fired. I didn’t lose my job! They asked me to come in and told me they wanted me to come back!”

  “June, congratulations,” Thomas said. He sounded far-away, distant.

  “Can we celebrate?” I was still jumping up and down for joy.

  “Sure. Are you free tomorrow night?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said happily.

  “Good.” Thomas gave me the name of a new Spanish restaurant, and told me to meet him at seven-thirty the next evening. By the time we hung up, I was positively beaming.

  When I got home, I texted Angela. She left work early and burst into the apartment with a cheap sheet cake and a bottle of Prosecco.

  “I know I shouldn’t be splurging, but I’m so happy for you!” Angela pulled me into a tight hug. “Girl, this is the best news ever!”

  “I know,” I gushed. “I can’t believe it. I just feel so good!”

  Angela grinned. “I knew you had things under control,” she said. She poured me a glass of the sparkling wine and we toasted to ‘new things.’

  “When I told Thomas, he didn’t seem too happy,” I said. I frowned and bit my lip.

  “Oh, June, you know him – he was probably just really busy at work,” Angela said. “Give it time – I’m sure he’ll be thrilled when he sees you tomorrow.” She raised an eyebrow. “Just don’t come back here. I’m going to be here all night.”

  I blushed hotly. “No way,” I said. I grinned. “But I can’t wait to sleep with him again.”

  Angela laughed. “Girl, you’re too much,” she said.

  We spent all of Thursday night celebrating. Friday, I slept in, hoping to get rid of my hangover before my date with Thomas. By now, I was barely nervous – we’d been out together so many times that I was expecting something really special.

  Aguilar didn’t disappoint. I was floored at the beautiful display inside the lobby – a fountain made entirely of glass mosaic. The water splashed and flowed over gorgeously vibrant tiles.

  “Senorita is enjoying our fountain, yes?”

  I blushed and turned around to see a young, handsome maître d.

  “Yes, it’s lovely,” I said. “I’m here a little early – I’m meeting Thomas March at seven-thirty.”

  The maître d nodded. “Mr. March has not yet joined us,” he said. “But would you like to be seated?”

  I nodded and nervously followed the maître d through the beautiful restaurant. The brightly colored tables were filled with all kinds of expensive looking couples, and I wondered what kind of delicious wine Thomas would order for us when he arrived.

  “I’ll send a complimentary glass of sangria over to you,” the maître d said. He bowed deeply and I blushed.

  Am I supposed to tip him or something, I wondered. But thankfully, he turned on his heel and walked away before I felt too awkward.

  Seconds later, a glass of red sangria was brought to the table. I sipped it and thanked the waiter before starting to glance through the menu. Thankfully, it was printed in both English and Spanish. But by the time I’d read the whole thing, cover to cover, there was still no sign of Thomas.

  I frowned. It was quarter to eight. When I checked my phone, there was no text or call. He’s probably stuck in traffic, I thought. And I’m sure he doesn’t want to get into an accident by texting. Maybe his Porsche is repaired and he’s still waiting.

  Another ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of my date. Frustrated, I pulled out my phone and texted him: “Hey, everything okay?”

  No response.

  When the waiter came back for my empty glass, I was embarrassed. I picked a cheap appetizer on the menu – and at eighteen dollars for three seared scallops, it wasn’t very cheap – and told the waiter that I was still waiting on Thomas to show.

  Fifteen minutes later, just as I was finishing my scallops, Thomas arrived. He looked flushed and out of breath, and he sat down hard without looking at me or greeting me.

  “Hi,” I said cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

  Thomas didn’t respond. He started digging through his pockets. After a few seconds of irritated silence, he pulled out his phone and pressed angrily at the screen.

  I sat there, feeling like a fool. Thankfully, the waiter chose that exact moment to come up to the table.

  “Good evening, sir,” the waiter said. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

  “No,” Thomas said shortly. “Just bring us anything aged on oak, from the late nineties.”

  “Yes, sir,” the waiter said. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”

  Thomas glanced up and looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “No,” he said. “June, have you gotten a chance to look?”

  I nodded mutely.

  “Just ask her,” Thomas said. “June, pick something with seafood,” he said. “And I want ceviche as an appetizer.”

  “Yes, sir,” the waiter noted. He turned to me and I began to sweat. My cheeks flushed as I fumbled with the menu.

  “Um, can I have the gamba…gambas de…ai-aye-oh?”

  “Yes, the shrimp with garlic,” the waiter said smoothly. “Very good choice. I’ll bring two dinners.”

  “Thank you.” I blushed hotly, ashamed of my mistake. I rea
lly need to learn basic French and Spanish pronunciation, I realized. That is, if I’m going to keep dating Thomas.

  As soon as the waiter was gone, Thomas sighed and took a long drink of water.

  “You okay?” I asked nervously.

  Thomas glared at me. “No.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Thomas sighed. “June, you should really brush up on your foreign pronunciation,” he said. “If we keep going places, it’s best to know all of the dishes by name.”

  My blush deepened to a painful red. “I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I was expecting you to order for us – you usually do that.”

  Thomas sighed forcefully, as if I’d somehow just him desperately uncomfortable with my comment.

  “Normally I’ve had a better day at work,” Thomas said. The waiter brought a bottle of white wine and poured a taste for Thomas. This time, Thomas didn’t even bother sniffing and swirling the wine around in his glass. He poured two generous glasses and handed one to me.

  “Thank you,” I whispered shyly.

  The waiter beamed, as if he had no idea of the tension at the table. “The shrimp will be out soon,” he said.

  As soon as he’d walked off, Thomas glared. “Why didn’t you ask him about the ceviche?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I forgot – I’m really sorry, I’ll grab him the next time he passes by.”

  “Forget it,” Thomas said sourly. “That kind of behavior isn’t really acceptable at places like these.”

  I swallowed and licked my lips. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but suddenly Thomas had gone from my own personal Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde.

  “Thank you for taking me to dinner,” I said quietly.

  “Oh, yeah,” Thomas said. “Well, I’m glad to hear you weren’t fired.”

  I nodded and held my breath. The restaurant was filled with delicious, tempting aromas…but I felt sick to my stomach. It felt like being trapped a bad dream. I’d never seen this side of Thomas before – what exactly was he trying to tell me?

  “Um, Thomas?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you angry with me?” I gnawed at my lip. “You’re just acting different.”

  “I had a bad day.”

  “Well, please don’t take it out on me,” I said gently. “If this is too much for right now, let me know. I’ll go hope and we can get together when you’re feeling better.”

  “You wanted to go out tonight.”

  I tried not to sigh in exasperation. Thomas was acting like a child!

  “I know,” I said gently. “But I assumed that if you weren’t in the mood, you would’ve said something.” I bit my lip, wondering what could have possibly happened to upset Thomas so much.

  “And here we are with the shrimp!” The waiter set two sizzling skillets in front of us, loaded with fat shrimp and garlic cloves. They smelled delicious but my stomach flipped and turned.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly. The waiter tried to catch Thomas’s eye, but Thomas was staring down at the food with surprising intensity. After a few seconds of silence, the waiter left.

  “Well, they fucking forgot my ceviche and you didn’t say anything,” Thomas growled.

  I stared at him. “You’re kidding,” I said slowly. “You told me not to say anything! You said that behavior wasn’t appropriate at a place like this!”

  Thomas sighed heavily, as if he were dealing with a small child. “No, June,” he said sarcastically. “I told you not to flag the waiter down. That isn’t acceptable behavior. But it’s perfect correct to ask if the waiter is already here.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Forgive me,” I said. “I didn’t know.” I bit my lip. The shrimp continued to sizzle and smoke in front of me. I couldn’t tell if my eyes were watering due to the smoke or because I was about to cry.

  “Well, now you do,” Thomas said icily.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?” I asked gently, reaching out and putting a hand on Thomas’s arm. “I’d be more than happy to listen to you, Thomas.”

  “June, I told you!” Thomas thundered angrily. I gasped – some of the other people nearby looked up and flushed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  My chin began to wobble and tears dripped down my face. I reached for my napkin and put it on the table, next to my untouched garlic shrimp.

  “Fine,” I said in a shaky voice. “You obviously don’t want my company right now. Enjoy your shrimp, Thomas.”

  Before he could reply, I turned on my heel and stalked out of the restaurant. Tears were flooding my vision and I stumbled and ran as fast as I could. It’s funny, I thought bitterly. I’ve finally gotten used to wearing heels, just when Thomas decided he was sick of me.

  I felt ill. I felt nauseous – I felt like my heart was going to explode in my chest and my stomach was going to lock up and fall right out of my body. As I ran out of the beautiful Spanish restaurant, I realized that I’d never felt more humiliated. This was worse than anything I’d endured – even worse than when I thought I’d been fired from P.S.151.

  “June! June, wait!”

  When I heard Thomas’s voice behind me, I didn’t even think to stop. If anything, hearing him just spurned me on. No, I thought angrily. I’m not going to stick around and let you scream at me for no reason! Tears dripped from my face, blinding my vision as I ran out onto the street and turned.

  “June! Wait, June, I need to talk to you!”

  This time, Thomas’s voice was fainter. I shivered as I ran. A hot wave of nausea rolled over my body and I paused for a minute, resting my hand against a grimy lamppost as I prayed that I wouldn’t vomit.

  “June!”

  Hearing Thomas’s voice made me break out into a fast run once again. I stumbled into the street and narrowly missed a speeding car that passed in a haze of honking and screaming. I barely even heard the rude words directed my way – all I cared about was getting far, far away from Thomas.

  What had changed? What had I done to make him no longer want me? And why couldn’t he have been enough of a man to tell me himself?

  I ran until I could feel snot running down my face. A painful, sharp stitch formed in my side and I gasped in agony before darting into an alley and leaning against the scratchy brick. In a way, the prickly surface felt good – like something I deserved, like something that had been coming to me for a long time.

  I was a fool to trust him, I thought sadly as I buried my face in my cold hands and sobbed. The night was a chill one – winter in New York City was definitely coming on strong – but I didn’t feel cold. I felt hot and angry and embarrassed. I hated Thomas March. I’d chased after him like a stupid schoolgirl, and this was what I got in return.

  I deserve this, I thought, wiping my nose on the back of my hand.

  I don’t know how long I stayed in that alley, sobbing my eyes out. Thomas March’s handsome, leonine face kept flashing before my eyes and I cried bitterly until my lungs were wracked with pain and I could cry no more. My sinuses were filled with a hot, liquid snot that felt as heavy as cement. I wished I could blow my nose, but I didn’t even have a tissue on me.

  Blinking unsteadily, I began the slow, long walk from where I stood to the nearest subway station. Even though it was Friday night, Manhattan seemed unusually quiet. The only sounds that filled my ears were the sounds of my heels tapping on the concrete ground. In the distance, I could hear groups of people laughing. I envied them.

  Stupid people, I thought bitterly. One of my heels tripped over a crack in the cement and I came crashing painfully down to my hands and my knees. Crying out, I gasped as I made full contact with the ground. My knees were stinging by the time I hauled myself into a standing position and I winced as I wiped the bloody scrapes free of gravel.

  A car pulled up beside me, then slowed on the sidewalk. I narrowed my eyes. Was someone actually going to try to help me? Did I look as pathetic as I felt?

  I watched nervously as the back doors ope
ned and two men stepped out. When I realized I didn’t know them, I sighed with relief.

  “Stop staring,” I called, brushing my bloody palms off on my dress. It was new, but it didn’t matter – it wasn’t like I’d be going on any more dates with Thomas.

  The men advanced on me, leering at me.

  “It’s rude,” I called in a shaky voice. Swallowing nervously, I turned on my heel and began stalking away from the two men. Their feet began to slap the pavement and I broke out into a run. In a matter of seconds, I felt four strong hands wrap around my arms and hold me in place.

  “Leave me alone!” I shrieked loudly. “Help! Help! Somebody help me!”

  “Shut up, bitch,” one of the men hissed. “We’re armed, and we’re not afraid to shoot you.”

  “Help!” I shrieked once more. A sharp elbow to my gut made me cry out in pain and before I knew it, my eyes were rolling back in my head. Something wet and foul-smelling was pressed to my face and suddenly, everything went black.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thomas

  “June!” I screamed. “June, where the hell did you go?”

  My voice echoed off walls and buildings. The crowds of well-dressed people around me eyed me with pity, like they felt sorry for me.

  “Stop staring, assholes,” I muttered under my breath. “You want to keep looking at Thomas March, you’d better take a fucking picture.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I’d been chasing after June for blocks, and I still hadn’t managed to catch her. I had no idea how she was managing to run so quickly – especially in heels. When we’d gone out before, she’d barely been able to walk.

  But somehow, I was starting to guess that my June was a fast learner.

  Finally, in complete frustration, I turned around and went running back to Aguilar, the Spanish restaurant where we’d started a disastrous evening. I knew that it had been wrong to shut June out, but I couldn’t have possibly told her the truth without ruining her evening, too.

  Now I felt like a fool. I should’ve been honest with her from the beginning, and told her what was bothering me. Now, I worried that I’d ruined a lot more than dinner. I’d acted like a complete fool – how the hell was I supposed to apologize for that? I just needed to find June and talk to her in person…I was sure she’d listen to what I had to say.