Page 3 of Obsession

“Can I help you?”

I turned to the deep voice. Sandy-haired, with friendly blue eyes, he was the poster child for a nice guy. Not what I was expecting at all. I held out my hand. “Mr. Carson?”

“Afraid not. Jack Hollister. I’m just the guy bringing you to the firing range.”

My eyebrows shot up. “That bad? George told me there were many tears today.”

“Nah, just an exaggeration.” He smiled and crinkles played at the corners of his eyes. Not from age, but from being outside and squinting into the sun. I knew that look. I’d fended off many a guy with an invitation for a midnight boat ride.

“So, I don’t need to gird my loins?”

He snickered. “Actually, I think you’ll be just fine.”

Unprofessionalanda snicker. What kind of business was I walking into? If this was the personality type, then maybe…just maybe I wouldn’t be totally out of my depth.

Jack opened his arm toward another wall of glass. So, itcouldbe colored. It was the same gray as the gunmetal sky outside. It took me a minute to make out the handle to the door. It was nearly indistinguishable from the glass. The only thing on the door wasB. T. Carsonin an understated font. Not a corporate font created for charts and progress reports.

However, it shouted wealth with the hairline fine lines echoing the curves and bars of the letters. A hint of art deco grandeur hidden under corporate gloss.

I straightened my shoulders and crossed the room. I knew how to read people.

It was my gift.

Blake T. Carson was going down.

Chapter Two

Jack knocked once and opened the door. Sure enough, it was a fish tank just like I expected. Except that these windows were lightly tinted where everything else in the building made sure to leave people off-balance with the clarity.

It was like a dimmer switch had been activated. Well, until I got to the edge of the carpet, and then there was nothing but air.

The floor was made out of glass.

“Holy crap.”

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to,” Jack said with a grin. “Good luck.”

I glanced over my shoulder. His lowered voice incited a flood of anxiety in my belly. He was just a man. I’d been around powerful men all my life. Okay, they were usually wearing wrinkled linen shorts on a golf course or boat, but I still knew how to handle myself.

I straightened my shoulders and stepped onto the glass floor. It made me feel weightless and even a little dizzy as the panoramic Boston Harbor opened under and around me. What kind of man needed to be this on display?

Silly, Grace. He’s not on display—he likes to watch.

He’s hidden away like a coward.

Speaking of coward…where the heck was he? I turned around. The entire room was glass. I could see the whole office from this vantage point.

Yeah, he definitely liked to watch.

Was he watching from some secret room right now?

Trying to figure me out?

I lifted my chin. Well, let him watch. I didn’t have anything to hide. Okay, except that I lied to get in here, but that was just semantics. All I needed was five minutes with him, and then I could figure out how to handle the situation.

Surely, he’d be reasonable.

What if he wasn’t?

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