Endless Obsession (5 page)

Motherfucker!

She’s undressing in the damn bathroom, probably spooked by her sixth sense of me at her window. And once again, my normal has been fucked with. She usually undresses partially in the bedroom before taking a shower. I’m used to getting small glimpses of her and she just deprived me of that.

My eyes fall on the vase of flowers on her nightstand. A feeling of possessiveness runs through me at seeing them. I like knowing she’s sleeping close to something I gave her.

It takes a good forty-five minutes for Poppy to reappear and make her way to her bed. She unknowingly exposes her naked body to me and satisfies my need to see her before crawling beneath the covers. I decide not to enter her house tonight. Having her tell me she didn’t sleep well last night and her suspicions of someone watching her tonight make me leery.

Tomorrow’s Friday, and then it’s the weekend. For normal people, Friday is their favorite day of the week because it’s the start of the weekend. For me, it’s my least favorite. It means I have two full days of no Poppy, except for watching through her window and on my computer, or my phone.

I need to spice things up, move things along, make Poppy aware of me, and that starts tomorrow. I’ve given myself three weeks before I make my move and let her know what I want. The trip to Texas isn’t just for a business meeting; I only need to be there for a day or two. The rest is for me to tell Poppy everything. I picked Texas because I know it’s a place she’s always wanted to visit. I have three weeks to make her realize she can’t live without me, to make her fall for me so deeply that there’s no way she can dig herself out. Because once I’ve unmasked all my secrets and Poppy knows the extent of my obsession with her, there will be no going back. I refuse for the outcome to be anything but having Poppy in my arms, in my home, my bed, with my ring on her finger and my babies in her belly.

I wake to a beautifully sweet smell. When I open my eyes, they are immediately filled with a soft light lavender. A smile touches my lips when I realize they are my roses from yesterday. I grab my phone off the nightstand just as my alarm goes off. I’m not normally a morning person, preferring to sleep in, but for some reason, waking up and seeing the roses has put me in a really good mood. It’s a stupid move on my part. Like I told Liv yesterday, there’s no telling who this guy is or what’s he’s capable of.

I reach over, turn my lamp on, flip the covers back, and climb out of bed. It’s still dark outside, but through my window the sky is starting to turn a pretty pink, indicating the rising of the sun. Grabbing my robe, I pull it up my arms and belt the waist as I make my way to the bathroom. From there, I get ready for my day. I set my coffee machine at night so it kicks on and is ready for me in the mornings. I walk to the kitchen on bare feet and am met with the delicious scent of morning magic.

After making a cup and downing half of it, I go back to my bedroom. Sitting on the side of the bed, I slip one thigh-high up my leg and begin working on the second one when my phone dings with an incoming text. I grab it from my nightstand, wondering who would be texting me this early in the morning.

I frown as I glance at the screen. It’s a random number that’s not programmed into my phone. Curiously, I swipe my finger across the screen to open the message.

Unknown:
Have you enjoyed the flowers I’ve sent you?

I freeze, except for my eyes, which pop open wide in shock. My breath gets caught in my throat when I realize this must be my mystery flower guy.

Holy hell!
It’s him!

Why in the world is he texting me? After all this time, why contact me now? And what in the hell do I say to him? It’s become a routine. I’ve gotten used to getting the roses and not knowing who they are from. Question after question runs through my mind. Who is he? Why send me flowers? Why not introduce himself? Where did he first see me? How did he find out where I worked? And how in the hell did he get my number?

That’s my number one question, so I ask him.

Me:
How did you get my number?

It only takes seconds for me to receive a reply, and I’m not sure how to take it.

Unknown:
I have my ways. You didn’t answer my question.

He has his ways? What is that supposed to mean? My chest tightens with fear at his answer. I push back the fear and ask another question I’m dying to know.

Me:
They’re beautiful, thank you. Who are you?

Unknown:
You’ll find out soon enough.

Umm… say what? Another question avoided. My eyes narrow in suspicion.

Me:
I’m not sure I like that answer. I have no idea who you are. What if I don’t want to know you once I find out?

I notice the time on my phone and pull the second thigh-high up my leg, keeping my eyes on the screen the entire time. This is really weird, him having my number. I’m sure it’s not too hard to get the information, but it’s the point that he went through the trouble to get it. I hate being left in the dark like this.

My phone dings again, and I quickly grab it.

Unknown:
You’ll want to know me. Trust me.

Trust him? That’s laughable. How can he think I’ll trust him when I have no idea who he is?

Me:
It’s hard to trust someone I don’t know.

I slip my feet in my heels as I wait for him to reply. It’s doesn’t take long.

Unknown:
You’ll learn.

Unsure of how to respond to that, I walk back to the kitchen to get a travel mug of coffee ready. He seems so confident, and cocky. Maybe a little too much, since it’s coming from a total stranger. How can he be so sure?

I type out my original question again.

Me:
Who are you?

Unknown:
Soon…

I grip my phone in frustration. Now that he’s contacted me, the need to know who sends me roses every week is overwhelming. It’s no longer a curiosity—I
need
to know. I should be more afraid, but I’m not, and that gives me pause. Why am I not more fearful? He’s obviously hiding something, right? But what?

He sends another text before I get a chance to reply.

Unknown:
Have a good day at work, Beautiful.

What? That’s it? He has flowers delivered to me every week for eight months, messages me out of the blue with cryptic messages, then wishes me a good day at work? Pissed off vibes has my gut clenching. How dare he contact me and leave me hanging.

Me:
That’s it? That’s all I get out of you?

I flip the off switch on the coffee pot, grab my now full travel mug, my purse, and with phone still in hand, I leave my house, locking it up behind me.

I’m buckling my seatbelt when he replies.

Unknown:
For now, yes.

Oh no, that doesn’t work for me. He needs to give me something. He can’t just expect me to accept his non-answers.

Me:
How do you know me? How do you know where I work?

Unknown:
I know a lot of things about you, Poppy.

Me:
You’re not helping your case of me wanting to know you. It’s freaking me out that you know stuff about me, personal stuff, when I don’t even know your name. That’s not normal. It’s pretty stalkerish, don’t you think?

I notice the time on my phone again and see I have a few minutes before I need to leave, so I decide to wait for his reply.

Unknown:
Just call me Mr. A for now. Have a safe trip to work.

I drop the phone in my lap, not liking this at all, but also begrudgingly admitting that he has me even more intrigued. I should be committed. I must be losing my mind to be captivated by this person. I don’t know him from Adam’s house cat, but I can’t help but be curious. I’m asking for trouble; I know I am. It’s stupid and reckless of me. The flowers are such a sweet gesture, and I want to know why he does it. Fear and curiosity worm their way into my belly, but I’m not sure which is more predominant.

Until six months ago, I’ve lived a, well, I wouldn’t say sheltered life, but I definitely haven’t adventured into the unknown. I haven’t been able to, or rather, I haven’t wanted to. I’ve been fine with my unexciting life, which consisted of high school, then college for a couple years until I quit to help my mom with the hardware store. I’ve dated guys, but they were the usual boys, nothing special. Grant was the typical boy next door type, and we had a normal sex life. It certainly wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was enough for me. We went on dates together, had dinner with our families, we both worked, but him more so when my mom got sick. Our relationship was comfortable, and I thought we were both happy. Obviously, Grant wasn’t.

Liv knows what Grant did, and because of it, I flatly refused to go out to bars and pick up random guys. After months of coaxing, I finally opened up a profile on a dating site she’d been trying to get me to join. Meeting guys I’ve connected with through the dating site, even if they were all douchebags, is the most unconventional thing I’ve ever done.

For me to become fascinated with someone I don’t know, based on some flowers and a few text messages is so far out of my normal. I don’t know how to handle it or what to do next, or what to expect. But one thing I do know is, I want to know who this guy is. I want to know what he looks like, what he does for a living, where he lives, what makes him smile and laugh, what his habits are, and what makes him tick. What is it about me that he likes? He’s obviously come across me somewhere and found something he likes. I want to be given the same chance.

I am so screwed in the head that I should have a doctor check me over to make sure I’m still functioning properly, because what I’m feeling for a stranger is something only an insane person would feel.

“Say what?” Liv says loudly. Too loudly for an office building.

“Shhh,” I hiss at her. We both glance over to Kate from finance and Brook from payroll, who are both standing outside the conference room down the hall. I give them an apologetic look before turning to glare at Liv.

She has the decency to at least look a little guilty. She pushes up from her leaning position, comes around to the other side of my desk and plants her ass on the corner next to me, effectively crinkling papers and pushing a folder precariously close to the edge. I grab a cup of pens before they topple over and the folder Mr. Knight needs later for his meeting. I lean back in my chair so I don’t have to crane my neck back so much to look at her.

“So, he just messaged you out of the blue?” Her eyes grow wide and a smile starts to creep up until it totally consumes her whole face.

I play with the seam on the arm of the chair, my own lips forming a small smile.

“Sure did,” I tell her.

“Yes!” she hisses, and does a fist pump.

She looks back at me and leans forward. “What did he say? Did he give you his name? I wanna see what he said.”

She reaches for my phone sitting by her hip and I slap it away. “Hey!” She feigns hurt by bringing it to her face and examining the back of it.

“No peeks at my phone,” I tell her sternly. I grab my phone and slip it in the drawer with my purse.

“But Pop, I want to know what he said.” She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. “You owe me that. Every week you get those flowers, and it’s like I’m getting them too.”

I scoff at her ridiculousness. “Really, Liv?”

She nods, her face serious. “Yes, really. I’ve been with you since the first delivery of those beautiful roses. I feel like a part of them is for me when the delivery guy walks in.” She puts her hands together in prayer style. “Please. I’m dying here.”

I take pity on her because I was going to tell her anyway. She’s my best friend after all. I just like making her squirm.

“He didn’t really say much, just asked me if I liked the flowers he’s been sending. When I asked how he got my number, he said he has his ways, which was really weird. Then he wished me a good day at work.”

The expression on Liv’s face is almost comical. She scrunches up her nose and a look of disappointment crosses it.

“You’re lying. There has to be more. That’s so boring. Give me your phone.”

She reaches her hand out and wiggles her fingers.

I laugh and push her hand away. I tap my finger to my lips and look up at the ceiling like I’m thinking. When I look back to Liv, she’s watching me excitedly.

“There’s not much more to tell. I asked who he was and he said I’d find out soon enough. He told me to trust him. Like that’ll happen.” I roll my eyes. “I asked for his name and he said to call him Mr. A for now.”

“Bitch! I knew you were holding back!” She points her finger in my face. “But it’s still not that exciting.” Again with the playful pout.

“I’m so sorry my life couldn’t entertain you more,” I tell her dryly.

“Mr. A, huh? Sounds mysterious and intriguing.” She looks contemplative for a moment, before she says, “I wonder if that’s the first letter in his first name. We just need…”

Just then, Mr. Knight’s door opens and out walks the man himself, putting our conversation to an end. Liv immediately jumps off my desk and scurries over to hers. Mr. Knight watches her, then points his mesmerizing green eyes my way. He lifts a dark trim brow, the one with the sexy eyebrow ring. As it’s coming up on the last hour of the day, the shadow of a beard and mustache are starting to appear. His lips are full and have just the right amount of color to them. They look very kissable. He looks hot as hell, and I should be tossed
in
hell for thinking it.

I drop my eyes from his and start straightening up the mess Liv made of my desk.

“Do you have the file I requested?” Mr. Knight asks, walking to my desk.

“Yes, sir. I have it right here.” I grab the folder and look back at him while I hold it out.

He’s stopped in front of my desk, but doesn’t reach for the folder. Instead, his eyes are pinned on me while he rolls the sleeves of his black dress shirt down, sadly covering up the beautiful tattoos he has, then buttoning the cuffs.