Dirty Obsession (Dirty 1)

“Sure. If it would help.”

I smile. “It would. Come on, let’s go get showered and changed, and then I can show you my life.”

* * *

I run a brush through my hair again and then head out of my bathroom in my khaki dress pants and pink blouse. I stop in my tracks when I see Asher in his swim trunks and T-shirt.

“Is that what you are wearing?” I ask.

“Yes. You have a problem with that?”

I shake my head. “Nope.” I grab my purse and then head to my door. “Let’s go.”

Asher grabs hold of my hand. This time, it feels more like he’s trying to reassure me that he’s with me, which I desperately need because, unlike the honeymoon, as soon as we step foot inside my office building, we are going to be swarmed with questions.

And, sure enough, the second I pull up to the building, we are swarmed with photographers and reporters. I guess it is a big deal when the local girl who runs a large nonprofit almost dies, calls off her wedding, and then marries someone else all in a matter of two days.

I climb out of the driver’s seat of my car without even thinking about Asher. I’m sure he’s dealt with his fair share of press before. I smile and wave as lights flash all around me. I walk toward the back of my car and wait for Asher to join me. He looks a little shell-shocked, but when he makes it to the back of my car and I grab his hand, his smile lifts.

“You didn’t tell me there would be so many people excited to see us, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear.

I laugh. “Just smile and wave until we make it inside where we will get a whole new group of people attacking us.”

I start leading him toward my office building as dozens of reporters yell out questions to us.

“When did you get married?”

“Where did you get married?”

“How long have you two known each other?”

“How are you doing after your near-death experience?”

The questions keep coming and coming.

I see Marissa, a reporter who I actually respect, standing near the entrance to the building. She smiles at me and then leans into my ear as I open the door.

“Give me an exclusive, and it will get this mob of people to leave you alone.”

I look at her, giving her an I’ll-think-about-it look.

She smiles brightly because she thinks I’m going to take her up on her offer. And maybe I will if it will get all the photographers outside to leave us alone.

I take a deep breath once inside. Even though I can already feel the stares on me when we enter the two-story building, I don’t care. This is my home. This is where I flourish.

I start walking toward the stairs that lead up to my office, but Asher freezes, holding my hand. I turn and look at him with a fake smile on my face. I shake my head sideways, trying to get him to come on.

He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’ve never felt like I should have worn something nicer so much in my life.”

I laugh and look at him. He looks like a wrinkled mess. I doubt he even owns an iron. Other than the stubble that covers his face and the tiny lines around his eyes, giving his true age away, he looks like he’s eighteen.

“You’re fine. Now, come on, or we are never going to make it to my office, and I have work to do.” I let go of his hand and start walking toward the stairs.

“Hello, Miss Hart—I mean, Mrs. Calder,” my receptionist says from behind her desk.

“It’s still Ms. Hart. I’m going to keep my name,” I say.

“Of course, Ms. Hart.” But Bonnie’s eyes don’t stay on mine long. Instead, they are eating up Asher.