Page 57 of Obsession
I tear my gaze away from his pristine backseat and eye the air freshener—a yellow Christmas tree. “We both know he’ll fire me if I’m honest.”
“You’re wrong,” Elliot says, glancing in the rearview mirror. “He can’t fire you. Not when Hammond won’t let anyone else interview him. Now you’re stuck shadowing me all day instead of working on that article we both know you haven’t started on.”
I frown. “How do you know I haven’t made a start?”
He gives me a look. “Have you?”
“Well, no…” When his smile grows, I hurry to add, “But you don’t know that.”
“You do everything last minute.”
Crossing my arms, I pull a face. “So maybe I’m not the most organized person.”
“Organized is a word that doesn’t even exist in your vocabulary. Have you seen your work desk? It’s a biohazard waiting to happen. Not only that, you still use a tape recorder like this is the seventies.”
“What’s wrong with my tape recorder?”
Elliot overtakes a red Hyundai, one hand on the gearstick and the other hand dangling over the steering wheel.
“I like it,” I continue, defending my dinosaur technology. “We can’t all be like you.”
“Like me?” His emerald eyes sparkle with humor. “What am I like?”
“You’re an overachiever, for one. Always trying to steal my stories.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off. “You’re organized to such a degree that I barely dare breathe in your space. Your car reeks of cleaning products, and your office does, too, for your information. Your hair… I mean, fuck… How long does it take you to make those curls look like that?”
“You’re very opinionated. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
“And your clothes,” I barge on. “Are you a news reporter, or do you work on Wall Street?”
“Are you done?”
I huff a breath. “Sorry. I’m under a lot of pressure lately.”
“I’ll gladly take over your story for you.”
“Fuck off.”
He chuckles, and my own lips twitch.
We drive the rest of the way in comfortable silence. I haven’t yet warmed up to Elliot, but at least he’s not being a dick. However, there’s something that sets me on edge around him. He’s too perfect. Too in control.
Unlike me. I’m not in control of myself at all anymore. I barely recognize the woman in the mirror. She’s a newborn but somehow ancient. I know her, but she’s also a stranger.
I close my eyes, drifting through thoughts and feelings. Everything is a mess. I’m in a car with my nemesis, and the man I can’t stop thinking about—the same man I dropped to my knees and betrayed my own soul to protect—is headed for the needle. On top of that, someone knows my secret. That’s the only reason thatthingwas placed on the kitchen table for me to find. I’ve gone over it in my head. The only other person who has keys to the house is Charlotte.
No. It’s not her.
“We’re here.” Elliot cuts the engine and opens the door.
Lifting my head off the headrest, I look around.
“It’s a ten-minute walk from here,” Elliot says, stepping out of the car.
I join him in the blinding sun, the snow crunching beneath my winter boots.
He grabs his bag from the trunk, slings it over his shoulder, and sets off down the road, expecting me to follow.
