Page 6 of Brutal Obsession

The fact that I want him just as much is even more reason for me to get the hell out of here.

“I’m taking you home.”

I don’t know whether he’s offering to drive me back to the estate or stating his intention to get me between his sheets.

Though the latter implication appeals to me more than I’d care to admit, my phone’s still buzzing against my leg, so I just nod. Whatever I need to do to convince him nothing is amiss.

“Wait inside.” He removes his heavy hand from my bare waist, slow and steady, as if he thinks I’ll run. “I’ll go get my car.”

I nod again. Cian drags his thumb along my jaw and presses another kiss to my lips. The caress feels like a preview for the next episode, except little does he know, this series just got canceled.

He pulls away, stalks to the alley’s opening, and disappears. I count out twenty seconds before bolting in the opposite direction, sending up a silent prayer when I spot the blue Subaru idling at the curb.

After throwing one last glance over my shoulder, I dive into the passenger seat.

Cian’s gone.

And now, so am I.

Chapter 1

Harper

Turquoise water glitters in Monday’s afternoon sunlight. The sound of waves soothes me better than any spa relaxation tape, but this tropical heat is no joke.

Dabbing the sweat off my forehead, I adjust my sun hat and sip from a liter-sized water bottle. Maybe I’m a snob, but I think underground spring water from Hawaii’s volcanic soil tastes better than any fancy water I used to have on the East Coast.

Flipping through the pages of a fantasy-romance novel with my skin baking under the tropical sun, I’m trying to enjoy my day off but can’t stop thinking about the date.

June 13th.

Two months ago, I was supposed to walk down the aisle with Finn Gallagher. Instead I walked down the jetway and found myself standing in a not-so-crowded terminal at Daniel K. Inouye, an indoor-outdoor airport with a garden in the middle for people who want to soak up a little nature before hopping on a plane.

A quiet, serene transportation hub on an island oasis in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I’ll never forget the way peace flooded my spirit when I first stepped foot on Hawaiian soil. I sensed the difference straightaway. The air here is cleaner, the pace more relaxed, and there’s more time to enjoy life outside the vice grip of New York City and the Irish Kings.

Originally, I planned to leave the country using the passport I procured under a fake name from one of my nightclub contacts, but I fell in love with Oahu online. Fleeing across the ocean felt safe despite remaining in the U.S. since no one from my old life has any reason to search for me here.

I ditched New York, my bullshit arranged marriage, and everyone I’ve ever known or loved. That list of people might be short, but it’s still long enough to hollow me like a drum whenever I remember I gave them up in exchange for my freedom.

Knocking my sunglasses aside, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Once the threat of tears subsides, I drop my head back, gaze up into the endless azure sky overhead, and fill my lungs to the brim with fresh, salty air.

Two months have passed since I started my life here in the tropics. All things considered, things are going pretty great.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Before I made the decision to run, I spent every night crying myself to sleep. The only activity that calmed me down enough to rest was scrolling through travel accounts on social media and picturing myself in one of those beautiful places.

One day I stumbled across an account of a pineapple farm—along with all the gorgeous pictures of the surrounding Hawaiian landscape—and fell in love. When I arrived here, finding my place somewhere along Oahu’s North Shore was my first and only priority.

I brought fifty thousand dollars that I’d squirreled away. Though those funds won’t last forever, they were more than enough to rent an adorable loft, owned by an older couple who run a pineapple farm.

Both in their sixties, Jean and Tony Fukuoka are high school sweethearts born and raised on the island. Tony hails from a multi-generational farming family, and when his father passed, he inherited the family pineapple farm on the North Shore and their farm-to-table restaurant in Waikiki. Up until the spring, they ran the operation with the help of their three adult children, Mike, Paul, and Isabelle.

Isabelle got married in March and relocated to the mainland with her new husband, leaving the Fukuokas in need of help at the farm and restaurant. I volunteered to do both jobs if they could assist me in finding a place to stay.

They rented me Isabelle’s old room, and as of last week, my probation period’s complete and Elena Dane is a permanent employee of both Fukuoka Farms and Dish Waikiki.

---