Page 4 of Obsessive Cravings

“That’s my business and something you don’t need to worry about. Just make sure she remains content or heads will roll and secrets will spill.”

I had enough dirt on everyone in that office to fire them all. The only reason I even owned the firm was to keep the feds occupied. If they were snooping to find dirt on me, they’d hit all the legal businesses. The illegal ones I had buried so far below the red tape that layered my legal businesses, no one would ever discover them. Having been in the business as long as I had, most of the illegal ones were liquidated by now, the money reinvested in real estate or other entities where it was untraceable. But there were a few out there that were better left unseen.

“Understood,” Ken said, waiting for further direction.

“Go back to the office. And buy her lunch today, but don’t take her out,” I added quickly, the idea of another male with her stirring my envy. “Just make sure we pick up the tab.”

“Will do.”

After he left my office, I sat back, contemplating why the thought of her with another man had been so uncomfortable. I shook it off as Sherry knocked and peeked her head in.

“I reached out and bought all the furniture. I have someone meeting her this week to pay her and pick it up.”

“Perfect. Donate it to the thrift shop outside of the city. I don’t want her finding it. But before you do, I want to look through it.”

She gave me a curious glance but didn’t comment. She knew better than to question me.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, shutting the door and leaving me to my thoughts again. Those thoughts were of the gorgeous ebony haired beauty who was now one step closer to becoming mine.

Chapter Four

RILEY

My first few days at work were dull, consisting of mundane tasks like training and setting up my office. The exciting part was exploring the city during my lunch breaks and after work. Bridgeville was massive compared to the small town of Treemont. Skyscrapers towered to the clouds, people bustled on every street, and cars beeped and idled at stoplights. But I’d discovered that a few blocks from the main part of the city, a transition began that led to regal homes, people walking their dogs, and children playing. The dichotomy was striking.

My studio apartment made me feel suffocated every time I returned to it. I missed the sprawling lawns of my brother’s home, the horses in the fields, the farmers tending their crops. And I missed my brother, Mason. I’d been cold to him in the months I was planning my escape, knowing that escape was from him and the life of lies he’d built for me. Finding out his money hadn’t come from the real estate business he owned, that he ran a mafia-like business, one that involved guns and violence and everything else my stunned mind didn’t want to admit. I wanted to be as far from him as possible. I’d been blind, naïve, purposely fed lies to keep me safe. Or at least that’s what he told me it was all for.

I’d always wondered why he kept me close, insisting I live nearby and stay in Treemont. I’d never questioned the men who walked the grounds of his large estate, ones he had insisted couldn’t touch me…until one did.

“Shit,” I grumbled as my key slipped, my finger jamming on the doorknob. I needed to focus. It had been a long day, and I’d grabbed some takeout on the way home. A few days before, someone had bought all my furniture, offering me so much for it I couldn’t argue when she insisted on everything but my bed. It was enough for me to buy new furniture and more. A moving service had picked it up yesterday, handing me an envelope of cash, then driving away with what remained of my old life.

I was looking forward to spending the cash on a shopping trip now that the weekend was here, but for now, I just wanted to sit on my bed and eat the fries in my hand. Finally getting the key to cooperate, I threw open my door and gasped, my jaw dropping to the floor. The bare apartment was decorated as if the finest interior decorator had spent months perfecting it. A loveseat of plush green and a small round table with two chairs lined with that same green sat where the small kitchen was. There was a rug with hints of the same green in it, the design reminding me of the fields of wheat at home.

A thick fluffy gray comforter was on my bed, decorative pillows with white peonies and red petals scattered atop it. Even the walls now held pictures that were reminders of home, as if someone knew the intimate details of my likes and dislikes. A bookshelf lined the wall across from my bed, and my eyes took in the dark romance titles that currently filled my e-reader.

“Holy fuck,” I mumbled, walking in and dropping my food on the mahogany table.

I wandered around the apartment, trying to understand how this had happened until fear gripped me. Had he found me? My heart raced, and I backed up, knocking into a chair and grasping the back of it to steady myself. I was trying not to hyperventilate, panic seizing me as my eyes looked around wildly, landing on a note propped against the new backsplash on my counter. With hesitation, I moved my feet and grabbed the note. My hands were shaking, my mind trying to work out how I could run again. Where I could go without a job, without preparation, like I’d had before. It had been so much work, knowing Mason tracked everything I did. He was even tracking my phone until I’d bought a new one without telling him, continuing to use the original one so he wouldn’t know. It was deceptive, and I’d felt bad until I thought of all the deception he’d given me over the years.

Calming my hands, I opened the note.

Welcome to the company. You should live like you work for me.

—Greyson Tides

My shaking stopped, and my mouth gaped. Greyson Tides, the mysterious mogul I’d yet to meet. He was elusive from everything I’d heard, so why did he care if I had nice things in my apartment? My intrigue about him grew as I looked around, completely bewildered.

Sitting in the chair, I tried to catch my breath now that I knew my life wasn’t being upended again. That Mason hadn’t found me. That he hadn’t found me. The pressure of it all, the way the fear had squeezed my lungs until they’d been devoid of air, the emptiness that filled the rest of me when the fear wasn’t overwhelming me, hit me like a thousand bricks landing on my shoulders and I collapsed from the weight. Tears fell. Ones I’d been holding at bay since the moment I’d decided to run from the truth, from the world Mason had hidden me in, from the man who had opened my eyes to it. I cried for everything I’d lost and everything I missed. I cried for the gesture of kindness from a man I didn’t even know, one whose action helped to assuage the pain men had been causing me lately.

When the tears stopped, I left my soggy fries and curled into the soft, welcoming bed, wanting the day to end and wishing I could go back to the life I’d left, knowing I never could. Doing so would only bring me more pain.

The next morning, I familiarized myself with my newly decorated apartment. There was nothing I could find that I didn’t love about it. From the tiniest detailed flowers that were stenciled onto the cream paint to the fairy lights that surrounded the bed. As I nibbled on a chocolate chip muffin I’d found in my stocked cabinets—full of my favorite snacks—there was a knock on the door.

I froze, my hand lingering mid-air with a chunk of muffin. What if it was Greyson Tides? And why did that thought send tingles through my body? I didn’t even know what the man looked like or anything about him, yet even the thought of him excited me.

“Shit, Riley. Don’t be stupid. He’s probably some old balding man with a potbelly and grandkids,” I muttered.

Opening the door, I found Ava looking back at me and not the hunky version of Greyson Tides I was trying to convince myself didn’t exist.

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