Page 18 of Unapologetic Obsession

I tapped open the contact for Alex. Once upon a time, he used to be a private investigator with a reputation for digging up dirt on the rich and powerful. It was a valuable skill to have in your arsenal, so we offered him the job as the head of security for our family. While Damon used his services regularly, I preferred to keep a low profile. It was understandable that he was surprised to hear from me.

“Hey.” Alex sounded half asleep.

I glanced at my watch—nine p.m.

“How’re you doing?” he drawled.

I hated small talk and got straight to the point. “I need you to look into someone.”

He didn’t bother keeping up with the pleasantries, either. “What’s going on?” he sounded awake, alert. It wasn’t lost on him that I had contacted him late at night, and I had summoned his special skills for the first time.

“Can you get me a police report filed for Rose Ambani from about ten years ago?”

“Erm—”

“The records were concealed, so dig deep.”

“You’re getting involved in the family drama, too?” he asked, with a touch of disbelief in his voice. He assumed I was digging up dirt to barter with the Ambanis despite having stayed away from that absurd feud.

“Can you look into it or not?”

He sighed deeply into the phone. “Consider it done.”

“I need you to find out who did it.”

I told him everything I knew about the attack, which wasn’t much. I gave him the scopes, shapes, and sizes of the scars, admitted to myself they had made me furious. Livid, in fact. I couldn’t stop thinking about them and needed to make someone pay for them; I just didn’t know who.

The thought stayed with me even as I returned to work later that night. I preferred working after hours because there was no one around to bother me. The campus was quiet when I pushed open the door to my lab. But at a closer look, I realized something was amiss. A sense of intrusion settled on me when shadows played tricks under the hazy lighting. My pulse quickened, not from fear but from the adrenaline of an unexpected variable in my controlled environment.

It was then that I saw the mysterious figure. The intruder didn’t notice me approaching, engrossed in their clandestine task. Their movements were precise, not the frantic actions of a thief but something else. As I edged closer, the faint light from the hallway illuminated a feminine figure.

My eyes narrowed as she stepped toward the supply closet. She pulled something out of her bag with meticulous care, though I couldn’t see what it was from this angle. Her delicate hands moved through the shelves with an unfamiliar certainty. Her breath hitched when she sensed my looming form behind her, and she turned just as I grabbed her elbow.

“Caught you, you little thief—” I faltered mid-thought when I saw the face of the culprit.

Rose.

Why did it have to be her?

A deer in headlights, little Bambi stared at me with comically round eyes. She held perfectly still. The moonlight cast shadows across her face, making it difficult to discern her expression.

Extending my hand, I reached for the wall switch to turn on the lights. She was in the same ivory blouse from earlier, only now I realized it was intentionally conservative and loose, the sleeves reaching her wrist and the collar sitting high to cover her neck. The jeans were classic blue denim, fitted but not tight.

“What are you doing here?” My voice was clipped.

Her face paled like she had seen a ghost. Demanding an answer from her was equivalent to a death sentence, I realized. Instead of waiting for her to respond, I snatched the bag she held tightly in her fist.

My fingers brushed against hers briefly. It was the only time she dared to meet my gaze. She looked me dead in the eye as if trying to dissect me. The unexpected intensity from little Rose Ambani made me pause. She retracted her fingers—and gaze—so fast I wondered whether I had imagined the fierce exchange. The fleeting touch and eye contact spoke volumes, leaving me as speechless as her.

Did she have an aversion to touch and eye contact? Something about how she evaded my touch didn’t sit well with me.

“What’s this?” I asked sharply. The unyielding words echoed through the empty lab, a sound that generally sent shivers down my assistants’ spines.

Her almond eyes were full of answers, lips pursing. It seemed she wanted to say something but lost her bravado at the last second.

If it had been anyone else who broke into my lab, they would have been expelled by now. But her innocent features did something unexpected, they made me feel responsible for her. My frosty exterior softened the longer I looked at her.

I opened the brown bag and pulled out the large vial inside it. “PMU?” I asked, forcing myself to take a lighter tone.