Page 76 of Obsession

How on earth was I supposed to give this up?

Hestood on my beach—Blake Carson, with his hands on his hips, eyeing his latest acquisition.

Didn’t he know the love and spirit of creation that had resided in this house were priceless?

I moved to the door and almost flung it open to go out there and tell him, but common sense finally slapped me back. If he knew I was here, he’d surely have me arrested.

After our last interaction, he’d definitely have me forcibly removed at the very least.

“You’re fired.”

I curled my hands into fists and slammed the side of my hand into the door. “Damn you, Mr. Carson.”

Just his name on my tongue and lips sent my body haywire again. The game we’d been playing, full of thesirsandmistersandmissesthat had filled our days. They had been as close to sex talk as I’d ever experienced.

Until he’d actually fucked me.

My body throbbed in memory.

His rough voice behind me as he’d driven himself into me on that rooftop.“Squeeze that tight pussy. Squeeze me, goddammit. Harder.”

Such a marked difference from the man in the office. So repressed and chilly, but the moment he got his hands on me, everything changed.

And I’d found myself longing for those moments where he showed me that other side of him.

Who was the real Blake? Was he an amalgamation of them both? Or was he just a liar all around?

I backed up until my worktable brushed my backside before stumbling around it and back to the windows that lined the side of the house. I ducked down and out of the line of sight when he climbed the sand dunes to the property.

My heart climbed into my throat.

He couldn’t find me. Not now.

I glanced over to my table with the three-foot angel mid-fall. All he had to do was look inside and he’d know someone was living in this part of the house. The rest of the house wasshrouded in sheets over the furniture I hadn’t been able to get into storage.

The money I made working for Blake would have been generous for someone who didn’t have debt up to their hairline. I’d run out of money for paying people to move things. The idea that my grandmother’s sideboard and china cabinets weren’t being kept the way they should have been made me a little ill, but what exactly was I going to do with all that?

I was as close to destitute as a college student fresh out of school.

My savings from sales of my work had gone to funeral expenses and lawyers, and the last of it had been taken by my mechanic with a shake of his head. As far as he was concerned, my car was a loss and should be junked, but it would be pretty hard to get a loan for a new one when my finances were in shambles.

All I had was my art.

I’d called in every favor and contact I had over the last three weeks to sell my work, but it had been barely enough to buy new materials.

My only hope was the angel.

If I could just hold out a little longer.

Reality was overriding all my stabs at avoidance. Eventually, I was going to have to move out of the house, no matter how much I wanted to hold onto it.

I craned my neck, but Blake was out of my line of view. I listened for noises from the main house, but all was silent. I tiptoed through my quarters to the slim hallway that joined with the main part of the house.

Still nothing.

I crept into the foyer, hugging the stairs so no one could see me from the front of the house. Huh. Not there either.

Where the hell did he go? I peeked around to the living room, which led to the back door and porch.

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