Page 32 of Obsession
“You don’t need to worry about me, Elliot,” I answer, watching him suck down an oyster.
He dabs his mouth with a napkin. “It’s not you I worry about. The newspaper can’t afford to mess up on this opportunity. Robbie has given us exclusive rights. Do you know what it’ll do to the paper if Robbie tells his story? Thewholestory.”
“I’m fully aware.” I lift an oyster to my mouth and sniff the shell.
God, it stinks.
“You’ll love it. It’s an aphrodisiac.”
He’d be so lucky. I’d rather fuck the old man behind the counter at the convenience store around the corner from my house.
My sharp smile could melt butter. I swallow the oyster, forcing myself not to gag in a room full of rich people. But fuck…the slimy texture.
I almost barf.
When I look back at Elliot, my eyes are glassy.
An hour later, we’re finally heading out of the restaurant. The cold air slaps me in the face as we exit into the chilly night. I pull my jacket tighter around me to keep from shivering.
Elliot walks ahead with confident strides, crosses the parking lot, and unlocks the car with a click of his finger on the key. His fitted suit stretches across his shoulders, and for a young man, who’s not much younger than me, he has an impeccable style.
I follow behind to my car parked next to his but stop short when I spot the deflated tire.
“Oh, fuck,” I growl with a sigh. “This night just gets better.”
“What’s wrong?” Elliot shuts his door and rounds the car, his lemony cologne pricking my nose as he stops beside me.
“Flat tire.”
Crouching down, he runs his fingers over the rubber. “It has been cut.”
“Cut?” My voice borders on hysteria. “Why would someone cut it?”
“Bored kids?” He stands up and makes for the trunk. “Let’s get your spare tire.”
“Good idea.” Unlocking my car, I stand back and watch him open the trunk. He bends over and shifts a blanket aside, then straightens back up. “Do you not have one?”
I frown. “Of course I do.”
But I fail to find it when I sidle past him to root through the trunk as though the tire will hide beneath a crumpled can of cola. “Where the fuck is it?”
“Well, it’s not in there.”
I rip myself away from the trunk and slam it shut before glaring at Elliot. “Don’t be a smartass. It was in there. I haven’t removed it.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Maybe it was in there, but it’s gone now.”
Breathing harshly, I slump back against the trunk. Exhaustion overwhelms me. How the hell will I get home? Buses don’t run this late, and it’s almost impossible to get hold of a cab.
As if he can read my thoughts, he says, “I can drive you home.”
The last thing I want is to accept a lift from Elliot, but it’s freezing cold. “Sure, thanks.”
Following him to his car, I drag my feet. How did this day go so wrong?
I reach for the handle and pause when a chill winds itself down my spine—an eerie foreboding. The window is tinted, obscuring my vision of Elliot.
Shrugging off the unease, I pull open the door and grab hold of the roof. Elliot looks up when I peer inside the car.
