Obsessed: Part Two

I shake my head in earnest. "Why?"

"Two minutes." He holds two fingers in the air and throws a grin in my direction.

I hesitate before I allow the doorknob to slip through my fingers. I know this is a mistake but I don't have the emotional tenacity right now to argue with him. "What is it, Jax?"

"It's taken the last few hours but I found one." He flips around so his back is facing me. I hear the sharp pull of the zipper of the bag.

"Found one of what?" I take a step in his direction wondering what he's going to pull out of that bag. My sleepiness mixed with anger is making me anxious. I feel like someone who has been reluctantly pulled onstage to become the unwilling assistant of an overly zealous, inexperienced magician.

"This." There's a wave of fabric in the air but in the dim light of my apartment I can't make out what it is. I take a step closer.

"I found it in Philadelphia. They rushed it to me." He's exuberant.

I stare at the fabric. It's the same color as the dress I'm wearing. "That's my dress," I whisper.

"No." A wide grin covers his face. "Your dress looks like hell. This dress is perfect." He pushes it towards me.

I reach for it. I run my fingers over the fabric. It's the very same dress I'm wearing. I found it in a small boutique years ago. How could he have found a replacement in mere hours? How? "How did you find this?" I whisper under my breath.

"It's not important." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "I ruined the one you're wearing. It looked so beautiful on you."

I look up at his face. In this moment, in this light he looks vulnerable and kind. The gesture was overwhelming and sweet. How can one man have so many complicated parts to him? "Thank you but I can't accept it."

The pained expression that washes over his face is palpable. "Why not?"

"I don't want anything from you." I place the dress down on the couch next to the garment bag. I smooth my hands over the dress I'm wearing wishing I had changed when I got home. I feel exposed in this dress. Back at the restaurant he knew the profound effect that his touch had on me. He still knows. He'll always know.

He steps towards me and I instinctively retreat. My hand jumps up in reflex. I don't want him to touch him. I can't promise myself I'll resist him despite everything I've learned about him the past few days.

"Are you scared of me?" I see the confusion on his face.

"Not scared." I tremble from the chill in the room. "Confused."

"It's freezing in here." He slides his suit jacket off. Before I can protest he's moved closer and is wrapping it around my shoulders. His hands tenderly rub my arms through the dense fabric.

I stare at his face. "Why?"

"You left the windows open." He looks past me down the hallway. "I should close them for you."

As he starts to pull away, I greedily grab his shirt to hold him in place. "No. Why did you lie?" I know I'm about to cry and I don't care. I need to know. My body is craving the t

ruth.

"It's so complicated, beautiful."

"I need to know. Please." I know I'm pleading and I'm shameless. I haven't slept in days. I have to understand what happened. Why he went to such great lengths to manipulate me.

"When you walked into the restaurant today I melted inside." He pulls his finger across my jaw and I flinch. His touch is magnetic, even now.

"You used me." I toss the words at him. "You used me to get those shares away from Mark."

He studies my face before he responds, "I admit I wanted Mark to pay for what he did."

"For taking the business away from your father?" I ask.

His brow furrows momentarily and he hesitates. He pulls in a deep breath and looks down at the floor. "Yes," he says, his voice is barely more than a whisper.

"So I was just a pawn? A means to an end?" I pull back harshly from his grasp. I shrug the jacket off my body and it tumbles to the floor.