Page 41 of Brutal Obsession

“Okay, then let me rephrase. You’re obsessed with her.”

My jaw snaps shut because he’s absolutely right. And he’s not venturing a guess. In this moment, I realize Finn’s been watching me. Not the way a stalker surveils someone, but the way a friend notices another friend consistently acting strange under similar and related circumstances.

I can’t deny that she consumes me. More than any person on planet Earth ever has.

I’m just disappointed in myself for being so fucking obvious.

Finn is a far cry from Mr. Touchy-Feely. Before he hooked up with Harper’s twin, I would have said the man had the emotional intelligence of a potato. Ifhecan see that she drives me nuts, everyone else must too.

“I kept waiting for you to protest my engagement to her, but you never did. If you had, I would have done everything in my power to convince my father to let me step aside,” Finn continues.

A barrage of emotions slams into me. Too many to deal with right now, except for the choked up feeling in my throat. “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

He keeps pressing. “But you never said anything.”

“Nope, sure didn’t. What’s your point?”

After a long pause, Finn sighs. “My point is do your job and do it quick. If you aren’t home by the weekend, we’re sending backup.”

We’re sending backup.

I’ve never hated three words more than those.

Tension coils my muscles tight. My jaw is wired tight as a damn drum. When I manage to unhinge my mouth, I act the part of the perfect enforcer and say exactly what I’m supposed to.

“That won’t be necessary.” Trying not to sound too assertive or defiant, I tack on the end, “I’ll have her back by then.”

“Keep us posted.”

“Will do.”

I expect the call to drop, because that’s just how Finn is. No hello or goodbye. He just bullets out what he needs and disappears.

So he shocks the shit out of me and proves once again how Riley has softened the sharpest of his edges when he says, “You know you deserve happiness, too, yeah? I want that for you. We all do.”

The line goes dead.

Fuck. Me.

For thirty seconds, I grip my phone hard enough to warp the screen. Then, I shove up from the armchair in frustration.

“Fuck, fuck,fuck.” I’m so agitated I can barely see straight.

I only have four days with Harper before we’re both expected back in New York. Or I’ll likely have Finn, Darren, Rory, or all three to worry about. And if Harper tells them I found her today and tried to fuck her all week, I’m done.

The punishment for touching a mafia princess without the family’s approval is severe. In some cases, even death.

I’m not afraid of dying. And after what happened downstairs, I do think touching Harper is worth the potentialpenalty. But I don’t want to put my friends in the position of having to kill me themselves or hand me over to the powers that be.

No, I’ll just enjoy what little time I have with Harper and take her home, as I was assigned to. She’ll be in so much trouble when she gets back that I doubt she’ll be jumping to confess to anyone we fucked.

I won’t be either.

In fact, I can safely say I wouldn’t reveal the splendors of touching Harper Brennan to anyone. That’s the scariest part of this whole thing. The satisfaction of touching her has only strengthened my obsession.

She’s in my blood now. Like a virus. Or cancer.

I haven’t been this out of control since I started fantasizing about murdering my father. Why does Harper create chaos everywhere she steps? Until I met her, I was fine.

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