Page 37 of Shadows of Obsession

“You can handle it after lunch,” he says, eyes on the laptop.

“Already cancelled,” I sigh.

“Pretty sure if you text Clara, she'll still meet you,” he says casually.

“How do you know I was meeting Clara?”

My eyes are about to pop out of my head, and in another second they'll start shooting daggers at him.

“You went through my messages?” comes out as a hissed whisper, and I don't know why I'm not actually screaming.

Oh wait, I do know. Mom raised me to be polite and civilized. Should've taught me how to crack skulls instead. More useful right now.

“Had to verify you weren't communicating with whoever wants the prototype.”

He looks so proud of that answer, knowing I can't really argue against it. We both know I'm innocent, but somehow that's neverbeen made clear between us. I take a breath, choosing my words carefully.

“You know damn well I had nothing to do with Tim's offer, so that excuse only works in your head. Could've just asked who I was meeting - didn't need to hack my phone.”

“I did ask and you chose not to answer. That makes me suspicious. When I'm suspicious, I don't ask permission before acting," he tells me while looking at me with those eyes that are now a dark gray.

Good. I want him angry. Because I'm furious.

This is exactly why I need boundaries. I already had someone trying to control every breath I took. I can’t let another person do it, CEO or not.

“Next time, try using your words to ask,” I tell him, standing to leave for lunch.

I need air, so I walk out without another word. The fact he sees nothing wrong with this is exactly the problem. I know he's more than just a CEO - don't know what exactly, but definitely not the kind of man you bring home to meet your parents.

I find Clara at her desk, and we head to this little bistro that serves all-day brunch. I order hot chocolate and a croque madame, hoping to eat my frustrations away.

“Finn mentioned you're wrapped up in some investigation with Mr. Borisov. You okay?” Her concern makes me want to be honest.

This morning, Gregory sent out an email saying Tim got fired for a security breach - something about giving his login credentials to a competitor. That's the official story behind my epic database investigation. Which I am doing, just not for the reasons everyone thinks.

"Yes, they want to make sure Tim didn't modify the data," I tell her but don't look her in the eyes, literally playing with the food on my plate.

It's a problem I've always had. I can't lie to someone and look them in the eyes while doing it.

"I still can't believe it. I mean, he never seemed unhappy," she tells me slightly amazed.

I try to breathe because I feel anxiety spreading through my body again.

I'm saved when my phone vibrates, but when I look to see who's messaging me, I freeze.

?

No. It can't be him. He promised to stay away. Damien made him swear. But it's an unknown number, and he's the only one who ever called me 'sweetie.'

“Luna? You just went ghost-white. Bad news?” Clara asks.

I look up at her, trying to keep my face neutral, fighting off the panic attack I feel building. I can barely breathe, and suddenly everything's ice cold.

“Yeah, emergency at home,” I manage, knowing there's no way to explain why I look like I've seen a ghost and why I'm shaking like one.

Clara's intuitive enough to see I'm done with lunch. She handles the bill while I scan the street like I'm expecting disaster from every direction.

Back at the office, she gets off at four, where our department is, while I keep going to twenty-two. The moment I'm alone, I crumple to the elevator floor, everything going blurry.

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