Page 23 of Dangerous Obsession

“Look, she’ll be safe where she’s going.”

“Fuck you, Matt. Just stay out of my way and you won’t end up looking like Rome.” I turn away from him and head into the foyer, walking past Sven’s den on the left hand side when I see he isn’t there. He meets me at the bottom of the stairs, glass of whiskey in hand. He sips it casually and stands in my path, blocking my ascent of the stairs.

“Give her back,” I order.

Sven takes a deep breath and sighs. “She isn’t an object to be traded, Leo. She is a person. One who needs protection from you and the games you play.” Sven towers over me, standing one step up, but having size over mine anyway.

“Get out of my way.” I try to step up but Sven moves to the side.

“You really want to defy our father?”

“He gave me no choice. You know what I’ve gone through to have her. I’m not backing down. Just move so I can take what’s mine and it will be on me not you.” I shove him to the side and he puts his weight into me, knocking me down.

Matty is there immediately, holding me down with his knee on my shoulder. “It’s for your own good, Leo.”

“Get the fuck off me!” I scream, thrashing as they drag me across the foyer.

“Put him in my den,” Sven orders, but I manage to swing a leg around and take Matty’s feet out from under him.

“She has nothing to do with this thing with the Italians. I started that. I can finish it too. And that bullshit with Dad and her father was all lies. She knew nothing about it. She’s not even talked to him in more than a decade. Now stay the fuck out of my way.” I put both of my hands on Sven’s chest and shove him so hard he stumbles and spills his drink, and then I see her, standing at the top of the steps….

14

WILLOW

My nerves are totally shot. At one point during the drive across town I almost jumped out of the car at a stop sign, only to realize this bastard had me locked in. He chuckled at me but said nothing, so when we stopped at a massive home on the Upper East Side, I knew I’d have no chance of escaping when the doors were open and I climbed out. Now, being ushered into someone’s home, I feel like I may throw up. My hands are sweaty; I have a headache, and Leo is nowhere in sight.

The man leads me roughly by gripping my bicep so tightly it will leave a bruise. He forces me up the steps to the door where another man, a striking resemblance to Leo, opens the door. They look too much alike to not be brothers—dark hair, blue eyes, chiseled jaw.

“Thanks, Matty,” the man says, holding the door wide. “I hear you’ve had quite an adventure, Ms. Sanders.” His gravely, rumbling baritone sounds strange saying my alias. It feels weird too, because Leo has done nothing but call me Willow for days now.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” I wrestle my arm away from my captor, who shakes his head and walks away. I glance at him, then back at Leo’s lookalike as he shuts the door, closing off my pathway to escape. He’s much larger than the first one, and I see his weapon on his hip. It scares me, so I play nice.

“I am Sven Gusev. You probably recognize that name…” His words trail off as his eyes float upward to the landing at the top of the stairs where a beautiful woman stands. “This is my wife Allie.” Allie looks like a fairly normal woman, not like these animals who think physically abducting women is the way to their heart. “Allie will get you some clean clothes and some food. Please go with her.” As he says the words, he tucks his jacket behind the butt of the gun, and I get the idea he isn’t taking no for an answer.

“Hey, hun, come on.” Allie gestures, smiling at me.

I look over my shoulder at the closed door and wish Leo had just listened to me before he left. If I had gone to get breakfast with him, I’d be safe right now. This is his fault. I am so angry with him. I reluctantly mount the stairs, giving the man a cautious look, and as I climb, my stomach gets heavy. I have a feeling I’m walking into something even worse than the Italians, something that might end with me never seeing Leo again.

Allie hooks her arm around me and walks me away from the staircase down a narrow hall. “Don’t mind Sven; he’s in a bit of a mood today. I promise, he really wants to help you.” Her calming words don’t really calm me at all. All of this is terrifying.

The floor is cold against my bare feet, and I find myself hugging my stomach. I haven’t eaten. My heartrate is through the roof, and if something else goes wrong, I might have a heart attack. But I follow her willingly into a bedroom.

The room is a complete contrast to the rest of the mansion. It's bright and floral, with a huge window overlooking a stunning garden. The bed is covered in fluffy pink blankets and pillows, with a matching pink armchair in the corner. The walls are painted a shade of pale yellow, and the curtains are a light, flowy fabric that billows in the breeze. It's like stepping into a garden itself.

Allie pulls me towards the armchair and pushes me onto it. "Just wait here for a moment, okay? I'll be right back." She disappears out the door, leaving me alone in the floral paradise.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. The room is so peaceful, and it's hard to believe that just moments ago, I was in the middle of a terrifying situation. I run my fingers over the soft fabric of the armchair and close my eyes, trying to relax.

The door bursts open, and Allie returns with an arm loaded down with clothing. Jeans, dresses, shirts, you name it; she carries it. She plops it on the foot of the bed and smiles at me. But I’m too worked up to care that there are actual women’s clothing items in front of me. Suddenly I want to hang on to this old t-shirt and shorts that I took from Leo’s things at the safe house. They make me feel close to him, as if he is here and he can help me.

“Let’s pick something appropriate for you to wear.”

“No thanks,” I tell her, curling my legs up to my chest. It’s probably not proper to put my feet on the furniture—everything looks so expensive—but I’m afraid. I need some time to process what’s happening.

“Nonsense… Oh! You’ll need panties and a bra, and by the looks of it shoes.” Allie walks to the dresser and opens it, producing a black silky bra and a fresh pair of panties that look about my size. She tosses them onto the pile of clothes on the bed and walks to the closet where she disappears. If I am quick, I can dart out the door, down the steps and out the front, but I’m glued in place. Seeing those clean panties is like seeing water in the desert. As much as I want to hate this, the simple comfort of clean clothes is starting to soften my edge.

“Here!” she says, and appears from the closet holding a pair of black sneakers. “I hope these fit. They’re size eight, because that’s what I wear.” She holds them out to me and I nod.

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