Dear Obsession

Chapter 5 – First Lie.

Derek’s POV

I watched her from the car.

The light in her apartment was yellow. She moved through it without knowing I was out here, breathing her in from across the street. Iris Brooke. The shape of her under the thin shirt she wore at home. The way the fabric clung when she reached up to fix her hair. The slow roll of her shoulders when she stretched. I could map every line of her body from memory now. The curve of her waist. The soft weight of her breasts when she leaned over the counter. The long line of her legs when she walked barefoot across the floor.

I wanted my hands on all of it.

I wanted to press my mouth to the freckles scattered across her cheekbones and count them with my tongue. I wanted to feel the heat of her skin under my palms. I wanted to hear the sound she would make if I bit softly under her jaw, hard enough to leave a tiny mark. Her eyes were the worst of it. Hazel that turned green when the light hit them right.

I loved those eyes.

I loved the way her mouth looked when she was quiet, lips slightly parted. I loved the flash of her teeth when she smiled at her phone. White. Even. The kind of smile that made me hard in the dark of the car and made me hate every man who had ever seen it before me.

She filled a mug and stood at the counter. She bit the inside of her cheek. She does that when she’s thinking. Then she laughed at something on her phone, and I forgot how to breathe.

So gorgeous.

She pulled her hair over one shoulder, and the shirt slipped down her arm. Just an inch.

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles hurt.

This is the job, I told myself. She's the way to Dan's evidence.

It had been a good lie. I was running out of ways to believe it.

My phone buzzed.

"Where are you?" Milo asked. Music and glasses clinked behind him.

"Nowhere."

"Nowhere sounds busy. Vale says you keep disappearing at night."

"Vale talks too much."

"Vale doesn't talk at all, that's what's scary." He laughed, then it faded. "Look, man. Salvatore's asking questions."

"What questions?"

"Why the guy who never misses hasn't found anything in weeks."

In her bedroom window, Iris sat on the bed, brushing her hair one slow stroke at a time.

"Milo. Pearls Writing and Publishing. Find me everything on them."

"A publishing house? Why?"

"Just do it."

"Derek..."

"Do it."

He sighed. "You're hiding something."

"Everybody is," I said, and hung up.

I couldn't keep watching from the dark. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to be on the other side of that glass.

Blackwell Logistics had trucks, warehouses, and shipping containers. On paper, it moved furniture and food across the country. What it really moved was something else. But a company like that needs a clean face, and I was the face.

A clean face could sign a partnership.

Iris’s POV.

"You're not listening," Maya said.

"I am."

"You're staring at your coffee."

"It's a good coffee."

Maya slapped the desk. "Iris Brooke. I'm being transferred."

I blinked. "What?"

"To Blackwell Logistics! Mrs. Kessler just told me." She was bouncing in her chair. "Pearls is doing some big collaboration with them, and they want someone from our side working inside their office. Me!"

"Oh my God." I jumped up and hugged her so hard she squeaked. "Maya!"

"I know!"

"That's amazing!"

"Okay, don't cry on my blouse." She laughed, wiping her eyes. "It's a promotion. Better pay, better title, and the owner himself approved it."

"Wait. So you're leaving me?"

"For a month, maybe two. And you're coming too, for the meetings." She grinned. "You didn't hear? You're leading the project."

"Me?"

"Mrs. Kessler's best editor. Obviously."

I laughed, and for a moment it felt normal. Coffee, gossip, my best friend happy. It had been a long time.

Then I remembered Victor's voice. Don't tell anyone. Not even your friend.

My smile slipped. Maya noticed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't do that. You've been weird for weeks." She lowered her voice. "Is it Ryan?"

"Ryan's gone. I don't care."

"Then what?"

"I'm tired, that's all."

"You need a vacation."

"I need a lot of things."

Maya squeezed my hand. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that."

I wanted to. God, I wanted to.

"I know," I said instead.

Mrs. Kessler leaned in the doorway, holding a folder. "Iris, you're meeting Blackwell's executive tomorrow at ten. Young, sharp, very private. Wear something nice."

"What's his name?"

She handed me the folder. I opened it.

I'd never heard the name before. I don't know why my skin prickled.

Blackwell Logistics.

The lobby smelled expensive. Glass. People moving like they all had somewhere important to be. I followed the receptionist down a hallway into a conference room with too many windows and a long table.

Iris was already there.

She sat on the far side next to Maya, who talked with her hands. I had seen Maya twice before, once outside Iris's building, once at a café three blocks away. She was laughing at something Iris said, and Iris smiled the smile that showed her teeth and lit the freckles across her cheeks.

Something moved through my chest.

The operations manager stood. "Mr. Thorne. Glad you could make it. This is Iris Brooke from our new partner, Pearls Writing and Publishing, and Maya Ellis. She's joining our team on loan from them."

I kept my face clean. "Derek Thorne," I said, and looked straight at Iris when the words left my mouth. "Pleasure."

Her eyes lifted. Hazel. Clear. For half a second, something flickered behind them. Recognition without a name. Like a door almost opened.

"Iris Brooke," she said. Professional. "Nice to meet you."

Maya leaned forward, smiling. "Maya Ellis."

I gave her a short nod and took the seat directly across from Iris. Close enough to see the freckles across the bridge of her nose. Close enough to notice her fingers resting on the edge of the folder, as if they were holding something back.

"So," I said. "Tell me about Pearls."

"We're a small house," Iris said. "We publish fiction, memoir, a few business titles."

"And why would a logistics company need a publisher?"

"That's what I was going to ask you."

Maya coughed, hiding a smile.

"Fair," I said. "Blackwell wants a story. Who we are, where we came from. Something people trust."

"Trust is hard to write."

"Then it's good you're the editor."

She held my eyes a second longer than she should have. Then she looked down, a faint pink at her cheeks.

"Mr. Thorne..."

"Derek."

"Derek." She said it carefully, like she was testing the weight of it. "Have we met before?"

My heart stopped.

"No," I said.

It was the second lie I'd ever told her to her face.

She nodded slowly, frowning, like she didn't quite believe me.

"Funny," she said softly. "You look familiar."

I stood and pulled out the chair beside her.

"Let's get started, Iris."