Tantalizing His Obsession

I'm Phoebe Daniels, twenty years old, and let me tell you, I'm not your typical city girl. I've got long, fiery red hair, pale skin peppered with freckles, and piercing blue eyes. My curves could make a road trip feel like a rollercoaster, and no, I'm not some size 0 stick figure like the rest of these walking twigs who look different every time you see them thanks to their never-ending plastic surgeries. In this city, I'm a nobody, and that's just fine by me. Glamour? Hell no. I live paycheck to paycheck in a one-bedroom apartment in the not-so-great part of town, but at least it's safe and my neighbors are decent folks. I work for Angel Wings Assistive Care. We help people who need a little extra hand in daily activities or those who just need some company. We also provide hospice care, which hits close to home for me. I just got my Certified Nursing Assistant certification, so now I get to see more clients. I do this job because my mom died alone when she was sick, and I can't stand the thought of anyone else going through that. It's only been six months since she passed, and the guilt still tears me apart. I thought it was just a cold, but I was so wrong. I couldn't even afford a burial plot, so I spread her ashes in her favorite spot, Junebrooks Gardens, the most beautiful park with winding streams and lush gardens. Today, I’m almost done with my rounds for work. I have one more stop. I drive the company vehicle, a small white and purple transit van with angel wings on it. You can't miss it, but it's only mine during work hours. No car of my own, so I Uber or Lyft everywhere, which sucks, but hey, cars are expensive. My last client today is Edith Yates, a tough old broad who's chased off most of the staff at Angel Wings. Somehow, she likes me, much to my boss Ashley's delight since losing the Yates account would be a disaster. The Yates family owns Yates Enterprises, one of the biggest real estate companies in the world. They own everything from hotels to office buildings to apartments. My father, Darius Hallas, is their main competitor with Hallas Development. Darius and I? We're not close. I'm his bastard child from an affair with my mom, who was his secretary. He doesn't even acknowledge me as a Hallas, and I don't claim their name. His wife and daughter hate me, calling me "Big Red" and making fat jokes. I despise them all, except for my half-brother Cole, who's actually nice to me, probably out of pity. Darius made it clear I'm a mistake and unwelcome in their family right before my mom died. Guess what? I don't want to be part of their stuck-up, pretentious family anyway. As I pull into the Yates property, I wait for one of the guards to buzz me in. They act like they need armed guards because they're so f*****g important. Newsflash: you're not! I laugh to myself as I drive up to their massive colonial mansion. It's almost comical parking my purple and white van next to their exotic sports cars. I knock on the door, expecting a staff member to answer, but it's Lazarus Yates, the eldest son who runs all their businesses. He's got light brown hair, brown eyes, a defined jawline, and muscles—but he's also an arrogant asshole, just like all the other rich men in this city. He sleeps around and probably leaves a trail of broken hearts and STDs. Only the dumbest or most shallow women fall for guys like him. Not me. I won't make the same mistake my mom did, falling for a man with money. They'll always choose the money over you. "Good afternoon, Ms. Daniels," Lazarus says, all formal and s**t. "Good afternoon," I reply, dragging my suitcase of medical supplies behind me. He shuts the door and strides towards his mother's room. Edith Yates is a tough nut to crack. Stubborn as a bull, but that probably got her far in life. She tells me stories, though she often gets confused because of her Alzheimer's. But she always remembers me. "Oh, Phoebe, I've been wondering when you'd be here," she says as I walk in. "Sorry, Mrs. Yates. I got here as quickly as I could." She smiles. "Of course you did. Let me guess, you were speeding too." I laugh. "Oh yes, Mrs. Yates, you know me well." After checking her vitals, I notice her dinner plate still full. "Mrs. Yates, why didn't you eat your dinner?" "Because it tastes like s**t. I want home cooking, not this fancy bullshit. Who the f**k drinks a kale smoothie? Give me steak and potatoes." "If you eat some of your food, I'll give you a surprise," I say, coaxing her. Her eyes light up, and she starts eating while complaining about the food, saying a rat could cook better. I unzip my suitcase and bring out a tupperware of my homemade blueberry cobbler. Her face lights up when she sees it. "Oh, Phoebe, this tastes just like my mother used to make it! Thank you for saving me from that nasty shit." I smile, taking her plate to the kitchen. When I walk in, all eyes are on me. Lazarus and his little brother Donovan, who looks a lot like Lazarus but with blue eyes like their mother, stop talking. "You got her to eat?" Lazarus asks, surprised. "Yeah, she ate, but said your cook needs to change up the menu," I reply diplomatically. Donovan laughs. "You mean she said the food tastes like s**t, right?" I laugh too. "Yeah, she used those exact words." As I head back to Mrs. Yates' room, I can feel their eyes on me. When I reach the door, I see Lazarus still staring at me. In the room, I help Mrs. Yates to the bathroom for her bath. She starts telling me a story about a gunfight her husband was in but stops, confused. "Or maybe it was my dad. What was I saying?" I smile gently. "It's okay, Mrs. Yates. Don't worry about it." After her bath, I help her change into comfortable clothes and read her favorite story, *Anne of Green Gables*, until she falls asleep. Checking my phone, I see it's time to leave. I pack up my things and head to the front door, where Lazarus is standing. "Are you leaving already?" he asks, almost sounding disappointed. I smirk. "Yes, it's time for me to go." "You can stay longer if you want," he suggests with a wink. I look him up and down, giving him a fake smile. "Sorry, I need to leave. I'm going to my boyfriend's." He watches me leave, standing at the door like some creepy sentinel. Can we say creeper? As I drive away, I can't help but feel a shiver run down my spine. Lazarus Yates might be the king of this city's real estate, but he's got a lot to learn about people like me. I'm not some pawn in his game, and I sure as hell won't be another one of his conquests.