Page 29 of Forbidden Obsessions

Chapter Twelve

Tomas

Mia: Way to fucking tell me you were pickingeirj Olivia up, you jackassss. We’ve been searching for her for hours

Tomas: What are you talking about?

Mia: She’s gone. Lexx and I can’t find herw anywherrre

Tomas: Are you and Lex still at the Bradford estate?

Mia: Ye

Tomas: Stay there. Don’t move a fucking muscle. I don’t have Olivia, but you bet your fucking ass I’m on my way there.

Mia: What do you meann you don’t have her?/???

I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I’ve witnessed enough of Olivia’s to know that, if I don’t stop answering Mia, I’m going to have one. My breath comes in shallow waves, as my brain and lungs helplessly plead for more oxygen. The adrenaline threatens to paralyze me, but I need to move. I’ll burn the whole goddamn world to find her. Finally, my brain goes on autopilot: put on pants, grab keys and phone, lock the door.

My tires squeal as I pull away, driving erratically, but I don’t care. Her voicemail greeting fills my car on the first ring.Her phone is dead or off.

I don’t know where Olivia is or who has her. Is this a misunderstanding? Maybe she’s working through tonight’s news. News like she’d received is devastating. A person shouldn’t have to work through that alone. Intuition sours my stomach. She’s somewhere with someone, and it’s against her will.

Traffic crawls the closer I get to the estate.Fucking hell.I take whatever space, whatever edge, I can and maneuver around, creeping closer to the secluded lane. I park directly out front. The valet attendants protest as I stroll by them, keys still firmly tucked and trembling within my palms.

Motherfucker. It’s going to be hell searching this place. I’m surprised someone hasn’t had a fucking seizure with the lighting. The bottom floor is a sea of bodies grinding on one another—littered bottles, cups, discarded masks, and shoes—to the beat of some chest-rattling EDM.

“Lex! Mia!” I yell as loud as I can. A couple of people raise an eyebrow, but mostly, they continue ignoring me. I need to strategize, so I choose a dark secluded corner to form a game plan. My foot kicks something hard. Something tells me to use my flashlight, so I do. My chest constricts at the sight. I’d know that pink tulip case anywhere.

I punch in her password, immediately sighing in relief at the sight of me and her standing together on the beach in Cape Cod. With gritted teeth, I open her messages. I don’t like to snoop, but this seems urgent enough to scroll through.

My knees threaten to buckle as I click on a message I haven’t received. A big, red exclamation point sits next to it:message not sent. “I can’t find Mia or Lex. Vanessa and Nathan are here.”

If there is a single hair out of place on her head, they’re dead. If they even fucking looked at her, they’re dead. I pocket the phone, switching back to mine.

I type out a quick text to James.I think Olivia’s in trouble at the Bradford Estate. Nathan and Vanessa are likely involved. Going to call 911.When he doesn’t immediately respond, I find an alcove. It’s dark and distant enough that I believe the 911 operators will hear me.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“I need to report a missing person. Olivia Elizabeth Hamilton. Age twenty. Student at Bennington University. Last seen at a party at the Bradford Estate.”

“When did she go missing, sir?” The operator asks.

“About six hours ago.”

“Sir, we can’t do anything about a missing person until twenty-four hours have elapsed.”

“But,” I start to argue before the line goes dead.

I type out a text to Mia, asking where she is. The progress bar barely moves. Well, fuck. I guess I’ll start looking. Brows furrow at my lack of costume, or maybe because they recognize me. At this point, I don’t give a shit. I just want to get Olivia and take her home where she belongs.

And then there’s the matter of Vanessa and her betrayal—again. She almost had me this time. She swore up and down she was here to make amends. Stupid me. Always fucking trusting someone too much, too quickly. I thought I had learned my lesson, then I fucked Olivia. Afterward was worse—I fell head over heels in love with her.

“Mia!” I shout, relieved. She turns around.

“Any luck, Professor?” she asks, slurring her words and swaying. I shake my head, silently seething.

Objectively, I understood the goals for tonight were to have fun, and yeah, sure, that involves some drinking. Seeing Mia this fucked up infuriates me, though. Her friend just went through hell tonight, finding out her mom has terminal cancer, and she let her disappear on her own so she could get drunk?

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