Page 2 of The Dark Obsession

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I run up to the front door of my house, and relief fills me as I enter. Now that I am finally home and comfortable, the pale walls feel warm and cosy. I shrug off my coat and hang it on a hook. Should I really call Dale tomorrow? My mind is swimming with different scenarios. Does he like me? Or maybe he wants ideas from me. Could it be he’s just bored on his trip back to our small town? I creep through the dark hallway in an effort not to wake my older brother Benjamin. I’m completely preoccupied as I pass the kitchen.

“Rosalie,” I hear from the kitchen, the tone relieved.

I double back and turn towards the kitchen, the bright white light burning my eyes. I squint as I reply, “Benjamin, I’m just going to bed. Got a bit carried away at the library.” I wink at him. “Met some ma …” A wide grin spreads across my tired face.

His eyes widen, and I can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain as he approaches me. “Who? Are you meeting him again?” His eyes search my face, as if I held some deep, dark secret.

I laugh, punching his chest. “Don’t think so, Ben. Important interview tomorrow though. I’d best sleep.” I turn to walk up the stairs.

My brother’s big blue eyes light up, his eyebrows furrowed at the news. But all he says is “Night.”

I go straight to my room, not switching on any lights, drop my backpack, and fall straight onto my bed. Time check—1:50 a.m. I close my eyes, thinking about the fact that I have to be awake in only a few hours. Panic colours my dreams, a set of handcuffs and Dale’s dark eyes.

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I awake in a hurry after sleeping in too late and scramble into the smartest clothes I can find: a black pencil skirt with a white shirt. Can’t go wrong.I need to do the laundry, I repeat over and over, taking a red pen and scribbling,DO LAUNDRY, onto a yellow sticky note and slap it onto my mirror. I rub my eyes and stare at myself in the mirror, deciding how much work needs to be done. Mascara, definitely mascara. I brush on a heavy coat until my blue eyes pop against the black makeup. At least my eyes don’t just blend into my pale skin now. My blonde waves are messy, but I haven’t left myself enough time to do much about it, so I force a brush through the tangles and do my best to make it look organised. Much better, much more professional. Staring at myself, I search for the beauty in my face that others say they see, but I can never really embrace it. With a nod to myself to boost my confidence, I leave my room and half skip down the stairs.

I brush past Ben in the hallway. He’s a lot taller than me, and his tan never seems to fade despite the almost constant clouds England has to offer. We have our similarities, but his light-brown hair is our biggest difference. He sings a beautiful melody as he ruffles my hair to acknowledge my existence. I don’t have the time to linger and moan at him for messing up my hair, so I put it to the back of my mind to argue about when I get home. He’s great to live with really, clean and caring. Our parents moved to London, but we enjoy our small town near the border of Scotland.

“Rose, I’ll be going to meet my director now. I should be home before you are.” Ben watches me rush down the hallway.

I grab my bag from the kitchen table and ensure my car keys are in there as I shoot for the door.

Before I can answer, he’s singing loudly again.

“Great, you can tell me all about it later, then,” I mumble. He never lets me forget his successful theatre career. I shout a goodbye and slam the door; his melody is silenced as I walk down the pavement outside my door and onto the street.

Chapter 2

Iarrive at the building for my interview five minutes early. I’d hate to be late for my first-ever job interview. The building sticks out like a sore thumb in my small town; it’s large and white with tinted black glass windows. Its ten floors stretch high above anything my town has to offer; our centre only consists of a few little boutiques, a library, and a coffeeshop. I could see it way before I arrived. I glance at a pink Post-it Note I had screwed up into my fist to triple check I have the right place, then, taking a deep breath, I enter the large revolving doors. My eyes widen as I behold the spectacular and clean entrance hall. Working for this law firm would be a dream; my specialty is criminology, but I’d take anything right now—too much time on my hands. I walk to the large black desk with white illuminating lights reading, ALCAZARS’ LAWYERS, at the back of a spacious room. A young man, about my age, sits on a comfy black leather seat behind it, with black hair, dark eyes, and a dark suit.

“I’m here for my interview with Mr. Alcazar,” I state as confidently as possible.

He grabs a piece of paper off the top of a pile, and his lips move as he reads; a single eyebrow lifts.

I clench my fists to control my shaking hands.

“Miss Lockwood. Yes, if you go to floor eight and report to the desk,” he says with a twinkle in his eye and nods to his left where I see two lifts.

I walk over as elegantly as possible and press the large button on the side of the lift. With a ding, the doors open, and I step inside. A sweet lullaby is playing, which is definitely a failed attempt at making me feel calm. I bounce on the balls of my feet until the doors ding open, and I exit into a vast dark-coloured room with a star-lit ceiling. I saunter farther into the darkness, and the colossal room lights up all around me. In front of me is a very large, long desk with three stiff men in black suits sitting in the middle. I stumble as I enter, and all three men stand fast and graciously.

“Hello, Miss Lockwood. If you would please follow the desk to the left, you will come to Mr Alcazars’ office,” the one in the middle says with a deep voice.

I nod and stride to the only door I see.What the hell is this place?I knock on the door twice and stand readying myself, waiting for an answer.

“Come in,” another deep voice calls out.

I turn the shiny silver knob and enter a room resembling nothing like the rest of the building. The walls are towering with books, a smart dark wood desk sits in the middle of the office, with a leather chair to one side and a two-seater leather sofa on the other. I do not yet see the owner of the voice, but as I scan the room, I notice a figure in front of the bookshelf to my left.

He steps forward, his hand out to shake mine.

I take a moment to look at him properly. Dark curly hair, large bright green eyes with black-rimmed square glasses, his cheekbones are strong. He has olive-coloured skin, his bright white and perfect teeth shine through his slightly parted lips. He smirks in my direction; his one hand is tucked into his pocket. He wears a light-blue suit with a purple tie.

I proffer my trembling hand and step towards him. His large hand wraps around mine. I involuntarily shiver at his icy touch, and with both of his smooth hands, he shakes.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Lockwood,” he says with a soft voice. I note a slight Spanish accent. Still grasping my hand, his bright eyes lock onto mine. “Sit, please.” He gestures for me to sit on the sofa.

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