Page 15 of Charmingly Obsessed
“Do we have a deal?”
“Why? Why do you want this?”
“Because I do,” he says gruffly, the answer absolute, non-negotiable. “We jokers… this is how we operate, remember?” Sarcasm drips from the words.
Am I just some project? Some charity case? It doesn’t explain the chase, the kiss, the raw emotion. Or maybe… maybe he’s just like this with everyone. Intense. Overwhelming. And I’m reading too much into it.
He looks exhausted. What if something is seriously wrong? Why is everyone whispering about him? The rumors about the Arman Hotels blacklist flash through my mind. So unlike the finance mogul. The unwelcome tendril of concern wraps around my heart again. Maybe… maybe being near him, even in this insane capacity, is a way to… help? Or at least understand?
“Fine,” I bite out, unable to meet his gaze any longer. I stare at the damn pastries instead. “We have a deal.”
I know it’s a mistake. A colossal one. But the image of his face yesterday – haunted, desperate – won’t leave me.
He picks up his phone from the table, the weight of his stare still heavy on me even though I’m not looking. “I’ll grant you access to the asset spreadsheets now. We need to start with the backlog stored in the unit adjacent to my penthouse. Then categorize the Sotheby’s holdings. Let’s grab coffee somewhere first, discuss strategy. My treat, of course—”
“No!” The word explodes out of me, sharp with panic.The thugs!“Not today! Let’s… tomorrow. Text me the address. Where to go. Sorry, but you need to leave. Right now. I have… something urgent I have to finish.”
“This,” he says pointedly, his voice dangerously soft, “is the part where you were supposed to tell me about your problems, Diana.”
“Tomorrow! I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”
The sudden, sharp thud of his phone hitting the kitchen table makes me jump, my head snapping up.
Frez scrubs both hands violently over his face, rubbing at his skin as if trying to erase his own features. The phone lies near the edge of the table, abandoned.
“Fine,” he bites out, the word clipped. He runs a hand through his already messy hair, his skin flushed. “I’ll leave.” He picks up the phone again, holding it out to me. “I… I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Put your number in. Please.”
My fingers feel clumsy, numb, as I type the digits onto the sleek glass screen. I hand it back. He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it.
“My condolences, Diana,” he says gruffly, his gaze finally meeting mine, filled with a surprising degree of self-loathing.“About your sister. I was… a complete ass yesterday. Didn’t react properly. That’s why…” He trails off.
“It’s okay. Thank you. I’ll… walk you to the door.”
Frez makes no move for a long moment, just watches me. The air is thick with unspoken things. God, this job is going to destroy me. I’m already unraveling.
“As you wish,” he says finally.
I lead the way to the front door, hyper-aware of him behind me. I open it, stepping aside. He pauses on the threshold, turning back one last time. His eyes linger on my face, searching for something I can’t decipher.
Then, without another word, he turns and walks down the hallway.
I shut the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the sudden silence. My hands are steady. I don’t look back through the peephole.
I just lean my forehead against the cool wood, listening to the sound of my own ragged breathing and the frantic countdown timer ticking in my head.
They’re coming.
7
Chapter 7 Diana
They arrive precisely at one PM. Punctual thugs.
Three of them materialize in my doorway.
Two look like they’ve seen too much and enjoyed most of it – rough, seasoned, moving with the easy synchronicity of long-time partners. The third is younger, trying too hard, radiating nervous energy.
He leaves the door wide open behind him, an implicit threat hanging in the air. I take a step to close it, needing that small barrier, but the tallest one, all sharp angles and dead eyes, thrusts a thick stack of documents into my hands before I can reach the knob.
