Page 6 of Dangerous Obsession

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WILLOW

Next time? What does he think this is? Does he actually believe that I’m coming back to him simply because he saved me from that man? And how—his father will kill me. I lie in his arms catching my breath and within a few minutes he’s asleep, snoring in my ear. So why am I still lying here? Why is it that I can’t pry his arm off my body and sneak away? That’s what I want to do, to go home and pretend this didn’t happen, that I didn’t just have my life turned upside down. I have a showing for my art. I need to prepare.

Leo, though, he isn’t just some one-night stand I gave my virginity to. He was the love of my life, and if I have to be honest—and I do, at least with myself—I still have feelings for him. Strong ones. Some of them are painful, but some of them are still tender, a longing in my heart for what should have been. But how do I forgive him for what he did to me? What his family did to me? And why did I just consent to having sex with him when things are so complicated? I will never get the gift of my virginity back, and I tossed it away like it was yesterday’s trash.

Don’t get me wrong; I wanted it. The minute we were alone in that car and the danger had subsided, I felt my heart yearning for him. Maybe not sex, but the familiarity of what life used to be like with him years ago. And when I left the bathroom, hoping he’d have something for me to wear and I saw his eyes, the way he looked at me. That’s when I wanted him. I just know it will never work out. And he is now risking both of our lives by keeping me here.

His arm is heavy as I lift it off of me. I don’t remember him being so muscular, such a strong physique, but then I only saw him without his shirt a few times back then. He was so respectful of my desire to wait until marriage for sex—a desire that changed over the years since no man would ever give me a second date. I sit up and wait for a moment, making sure he doesn’t stir, then I tiptoe to the foot of the bed where the dresser sits. It’s wedged in tightly between the bed and the wall, the drawers facing outward.

I pull the top drawer open, not really sure what I’m expecting to see. This isn’t his house. For all I know the dresser is empty. The top drawer is filled with papers that are of no use to me. So I move on to the second drawer, it is full of books. Just my luck, I’m in a house with no damn clothing except my dirty white things. If there is nothing clean I will put them back on as a last resort, but maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe that guy and his buddies will recognize me the instant they see me if I’m wearing all white.

My search continues to the third drawer, and when I open I it I find what I need. There are a few t-shirts folded and stacked on one side of the drawer and a pair of jeans, and one pair of men’s gym shorts on the other side. There are no panties, and this getup will look really stupid with my ballet flats but I have no choice. I pluck a shirt and the gym shorts from the drawer and close it silently. Leo fell asleep with the light on, so I tiptoed to the bathroom and put the clothes on quickly, taking my shoes. I don’t really care much for dirty underwear so I leave them on the ground along with my other things. I don’t have time to worry about if I get them back.

Looking into the mirror I take a deep breath and tie my damp hair up into a knot on the top of my head and brush the stray strands out of my face. My phone is in my bag, left out there on the table. If I can get out of this place, I can call a friend to stay for the night, but if Leo is right and those men really can track me down, it will be safer for me to just leave the city. Stuart can handle the showing, and after that I’m not sure what to do. Reba Sanders is a well-known artist now, but no one has ever heard of Willow Akers. They can’t.

My heart sinks at the realization that even now, when I need him most, I can’t contact my father. I can’t even contact anyone in the police department, for fear that my face will trigger someone’s memory. I clamp my eyes shut and images flash through my mind, memories of seeing my face on the news as I tried to vanish into obscurity, leaving my father behind so he would be safe. The guilt I felt over leaving was only compounded when Mom left him. I will never know why she did it, maybe she was in too much pain over losing me. But he’s alone now, and seeing the ghost of his daughter who disappeared without a trace but was always within reach might just break him too badly.

I need to get out of here, maybe out of this city for good. I can’t reunite with my father, and if these men know who I am, there is no going back to my art either, at least not in New York. I push the door open to see Leo has changed positions. He no longer lays on his side, but flat on his back, hand splayed on his chest. He isn’t snoring, but he doesn’t stir when I walk over and pick up my bag, and with one more glance his direction I walk straight to the door and turn the knob, only to find it locked.

I jiggle the handle, and when I realize it’s not budging, I look at where the deadbolts should be. I forgot that he locked this thing with a key from the inside. There is no way for me to unlock this without it. I want to slam my fist into the wood and scream, but it will only wake him, so I take a calming breath and readjust my purse on my shoulder.

Turning slowly, I face the challenge head on. Leo lays in the same position he was when I left the bathroom. I distinctly remember seeing that key hanging around his neck while he fucked the living daylights out of me. My pussy still aches from the way he claimed it, so for second, seeing him lying there nude send a hint of arousal coursing through my groin, but even the fantasy I’ve harbored for twelve years, of him and me reconnecting, can’t convince me to stay. I swore to Alexsi Gusev I’d leave and never look back. I’m not about to put my neck on the line for Leo. He turned me away without an excuse. He doesn’t deserve a second chance.

I move as nimbly as I can, only making the loose floorboard squeak once, and hover over Leo. He’s perfectly still except the methodic rise and fall of his chest. And my luck has turned, because the clasp of his chain is around front, just above where the key is. I gingerly pick up the key, pinching it in the palm of my right hand while I use fingers from both hands to unhook the clasp. I broke a nail earlier this evening, which makes it difficult to grip the tiny claw clasp. I fiddle with it a second and before I realize what’s happening my bag slides from its position on my back and slams into the side of the bed.

Leo’s eyes snap open and his hand grabs my wrist faster than I can pull away. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarls, glaring at me. Startled, I whimper and try to pull away, but his grasp is too strong.

“I’m sorry… I—”

“Lay down and go to sleep, Willow.”

I sigh, knowing my plan to get out of here is thwarted, at least for tonight. My shoulders droop and my bag drops to the floor as I pull my arm out of Leo’s grasp. “At least let me shut off the lights,” I mumble, moving toward the light switch on the wall next to the door. I stare longingly at the doorknob as I flip the light switch and turn to come back to bed.

“Naked,” he orders, and I almost protest, but there is no point. He gets what he wants; he always did.

I strip off the t-shirt and shorts and climb into bed, lying as far away from him as possible, but he pulls me into himself and holds me snugly there. His chest presses against my back; I can feel his heartbeat and breathing slowly regulate until he falls asleep.

Leo is the kind of guy every woman adores: strong, commanding, sexy. Dark wavy hair and stormy eyes should be a huge red flag for me given our history, but I can’t help but find him attractive still. I already know in my gut that this is going to end badly. One way or another I’m going to be hurt, whether he flat-out rejects me again when his father learns I’m back in his life, or I am forced to run away out of fear of whatever the hell he’s gotten us mixed up in. Leo Gusev is kryptonite.

I close my eyes and let sleep take me into its arms, though it’s fitful sleep. I’m not used to sharing a bed with someone, so having Leo draped across me is uncomfortable. Dreams and nightmares plague my sleep—falling for him and being broken, running from him and being broken, being chased by men with guns. One particular dream torments me.

…I’m running, stumbling down an alley. My heart races with panic and adrenaline. Something—no, someone is chasing me. Their footsteps are loud; they’re close. It’s dark, so dark I can barely see where I’m going, but I know if I can just make it to the end of the alley I’ll be safe, only no matter how fast I run my goal doesn’t get any closer.

I try to scream, but my voice is muffled. I can’t even speak, in fact, I can’t breathe either. The air is stifling, so muggy it makes my chest heavy. Why is someone chasing me? What do they want? I try to turn and see them, but they’re shrouded in blackness. The street lights behind them give me only a silhouette of who they are.

“Leo?” I call, wondering where he went, why he’s not here.

And then I’m above myself, hovering, watching the scene unfold. The two Italian men are chasing me, guns drawn. They close in as I try to run faster, but it’s as if I’m on a treadmill. They advance while I stay stationary. I hear my voice screaming for Leo, pleading with him to come rescue me, but he’s nowhere. And I’m different too—my hair dyed jet-black, my clothing not even my style.

I reach out for help, pleading for Leo to come, but the Italians are too close. They grab me, and suddenly I’m back in my body, trapped in their grasp. The chill of cold metal against my temple has me sobbing. I drop to my knees with my hands over my face and hear the sound of fists slamming against flesh. Leo is here. I look up, watching a man beat the hell out of the two Italians, but when he turns to face me, it isn’t Leo staring down at me.

It's his father. And he has a gun too—pointed at my chest.

“I thought I told you never to show your face again.”

I startle away, heart racing, and jolt to an upright position in bed. I’m soaked in sweat, and so are the sheets. The bed is empty; Leo is gone. I feel moisture on my cheeks; I’ve been crying in my sleep and no wonder. That was a horrible dream. I’m glad to be awake now. I press a hand to my chest and try to calm my breathing. “It was only a dream,” I tell myself, but it was so real—so close to reality now—that it’s hard to differentiate.

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