Page 99 of Obsession

Vi laughed. “I want to dislike you. Like a lot. What you two pulled still gives me migraines. Honestly, to the point that I’ve actually had to buy Advil Migraine by the case.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that one. There was so much anger spinning around my head, and now this was yet another person trying to talk me down.

All of them to protecthim. Seriously?

“But I like you. Jack likes you and misses you desperately. Could you two please get your shit together?”

My clenched jaw must have been enough of an answer.

She sighed and tapped something on the desk. “The elevator is coded for the executive floor. I’m not announcing your arrival. Don’t make me Taser you.”

I wanted to scream at her that I wasn’t here to get my job back, or to make nicey-nice regarding whatever fucked up thing was going on between me and Blake, but then I wouldn’t get upstairs.

And I really needed to get upstairs.

I stalked to the elevator and turned to meet Vi’s half smirk across the lobby.

I slapped the button to close the door and shot up to the executive level. What the hell was wrong with people? Did they think there was wine and red roses waiting for me upstairs? Not with this man.

Vi would be lucky if there were no broken bones.

There was no marveling at all the glorious glass today. I stared at the shiny doors and watched the numbers light up for each floor. When I got to the top, I shot out of the elevator and across the gray carpeting.

I didn’t pause. He could see me coming, anyway.

I swung open his office door, but it was empty.

What the hell?

I dumped my purse into a chair, then swung around and surveyed the entire floor. There wasn’t a single corner that Blake couldn’t see from his desk.

“Grace?”

I turned. He stood inside the slim doorway at the back corner of his office. I remembered him coming out of that same space the first day I’d met him. His jacket and tie were off, and his sleeves rolled back.

His hair was rumpled and falling forward like he’d pushed his hands through it a million times. There was a tentative smile on his stupidly boyish face.

“How could you?”

His eyebrows shot up.

I pushed aside the chairs in front of his desk and crossed to him, pushing him back to the glass wall. The bay opened up behind him and it seemed like there as nothing but blackness around us.

I curled my fingers into his shirt. “You bought my sculpture!”

He blinked. “Oh.”

I let his shirt go. “Oh? You drive me insane for days, for weeks! Then you fire me. Then you come in with some crazy Thanksgiving dinner for me.” I stabbed his chest with my finger to punctuate each sentence. I whirled around and paced away from him.

Those weren’t the things I wanted to spew at him, but there were so many secrets wrapped into my anger that I couldn’t find a way to channel my damn words.

“You came all the way into Boston to scream at me about dinner?” he asked.

“No, you moron! Because you bought my statue.” I turned back to him, his entire office between us now. It was probably a good thing, since I was ready to throw a chair at him. Or find a way to throwhimout the damn window.

“It’s an amazing piece of glass. I wanted it.” His face and tone were so matter of fact that the red haze around my vision returned.

“It’s mine!” I roared.

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