Page 124 of Obsession

Running to the building, I enter through the front doors. Claire looks up from the laptop and smiles. “Are you okay?”

Shrugging, I approach the desk and place my hands on the shiny surface.

I can’t look her in the eyes. The genuine concern I see there squeezes the organ in my chest, and the last thing I want is to cry in front of her. But she knows. Of course, she knows.

My eyes sting, and I have no doubt they’re puffy and red.

“I’ll be fine.”

Her warm hand palms mine. “You don’t need to tell me anything, but I’m here for you, okay? No judgment.”

I look at her then, throat clogged with emotion.

When I don’t reply, she smiles and pats my hand. “A few of us are going for drinks on Friday. You should come along.” She shrugs, sitting back down on her chair. “It could be good for you. Take your mind off things for a few hours.”

I regard her for a moment longer, unable to speak, before I nod in response. “Maybe…”

“The offer is there.”

I smile weakly, then make my way to the elevator and press the button. I wait with my arms folded around me as the seconds tick by. The doors finally open with a ding, so I step inside and press the button for my floor.

The moment I exit the elevator, several sets of eyes turn in my direction, and the conversation in the room falls silent.

I fight the urge to wince before smiling politely at Jeanine and Mark, who stand by the printer. But I don’t stop to talk.

James looks up from his laptop when I enter the room. He slides off his reading glasses and puts them down, motioning for me to sit.

I do as I’m told, feeling awkward and embarrassed, convinced he’s about to fire me.

I wouldn’t blame him. Not when I’ve made such a mess of one of his most important projects.

He interlaces his fingers on the desk and rolls his thumbs while scrutinizing me with his curious eyes.

His thumbs pause, pointing briefly at me as he says, “How are you holding up? Let’s start there.”

“Like you would expect if you had reporters from every news channel in the country camped outside your home.”

Considering my answer, he nods. “The police came away empty-handed, didn’t they? No evidence was collected from your property?”

“Yes,” I reply. “That’s right.”

“It must have been a horrible experience.”

“To put it mildly.” My voice is weaker than I’d like it to be. I clear my throat, fidgeting.

“I think this is great,” James says, taking me by surprise.

Frowning, I flit my gaze up to his face. “Why?”

“Why?” He chuckles, dragging his fingers through his short beard. “The readers love mystery. You’re the young female reporter tasked with interviewing the country’s most notorious serial killer—a murderer who has since escaped prison and is at large. The police swarmed your house and searched it top to toe but found no sign of him. The readers are flocking toournewspaper”—he points his chubby finger at me—“toyourweekly article. They’re hungry for answers. Did you or did you not fall in love with Hammond? That’s the question they’re askingthemselves. And did he escape prison for you? Is this a doomed Romeo and Juliet story?”

My insides twist uneasily at hearing him speak so causally about my life. What I have with Robbie is anything but easy. It’s a fucking nightmare I don’t want to wake up from. I’m in love with a monster, a cruel man who also loves deeply despite the evil acts committed at his fingertips—fingertips that have brought me orgasmic bliss.

“What are you saying, James?” I ask tiredly, wanting nothing more than to hide away in a remote cottage in a forest.

“I’m saying that I want you to continue writing your article.”

I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t that long ago you considered it a conflict of interest.”