Deadly Obsession Read online

  Deadly Obsession

  J. Lea

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Other books by J. Lea

  Because of you

  Never Again (Again #1)

  Once Again (Again #2)

  Worthy of Love?

  Deadly Obsession

  Translator: Tanja Kunej

  Editor: TCB Editing Services

  Proofreader: Lucky 13

  Cover: Dalliance Designs

  Copyright @2015 J. Lea

  Deadly Obsession is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Except for Fenway Park and the states this story is happening in, these are all real!

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  Prologue

  April

  Where is it? Where is it? Please, be here. Please. I'm feverishly rummaging through my purse, my panic increasing with each passing second. Dumping the contents onto the floor, I’m about to give up all hope when my eyes finally land on it and, sighing with relief, I squeeze it tightly in my fist. My way out of here.

  Unfortunately my relief is cut short as, in the next moment, I feel an already familiar pain starting to spread all over my body.

  “No!” I shriek weakly, and my eyes widen as my limbs are turning to lead. Awkwardly, I reach toward the source of the pain, but my arm doesn’t want to obey and my vision turns blurry, faster this time. I manage to turn around. He’s standing in front of me with an empty needle in his hand and I’m slowly falling to the ground...

  One

  Three months earlier

  April

  I hurry to the make-up chair with a hot cup of coffee I grabbed after I finished a meeting with the director and the TV crew, and dump the stack of papers on the desk.

  A little over four months have passed since I’d gotten my own TV show. It’s not really my show, as I have a co-host, but still— my show! Can you imagine? I dreamt about it since I was a little girl. It’s not an anchor spot yet, but it’s a big step up for me. It’s also totally different from how I imagined hosting a show as a little girl, but it’s far from boring. There are many challenges I have to face, like improvisation and sometimes acting. I have to smile, even though my day was awful, and I need to come up with the ideas for our show, but I’m handling it like the professional I am. My job never ceases to amaze me. Most mornings I’m at the studio well before everyone else, even though I don’t need to be.

  Before I got this position, my working schedule was all over the place. I took every journalism-related job that was sent my way—from field correspondence, interviewing, and filming gala events, to boring news coverage. Working from the early morning hours until darkness already settled over the city was my daily routine. Now, I usually get to work around 8 am and attend a meeting or two with the execs so we can go over a few ideas for the show, choose new guests, and iron over the remaining details that make the show perfect. I come home early in the afternoon, which is a pleasant change from the hectic schedule I was working as an intern.

  On production day, I usually work the whole day. I host a live nighttime talk show, and that means we can’t afford to make any mistakes on air.

  “Five more minutes, okay?” Heather sticks her head into the dressing room. She’s the one who does magic things to my make-up and hair, so I look camera-ready.

  “Okay,” I nod, and climb onto a high chair in front of a huge vanity mirror with lights on the frame. As I wait, I skim through the script for tonight’s show once again.

  “Another bouquet came for you.” Before I can turn around, Heather places a massive bouquet of beautiful sunflowers onto the table.

  I sigh heavily. “He just won’t stop.” Grumbling, I shake my head.

  “Leo?” Heather’s eyebrow shoots up in curiosity, while running her hands down the curly length of my hair.

  “Most likely.” I don’t bother opening the card that’s attached to the bouquet.

  The sunflowers are probably from Leo, my ex-boyfriend. We broke up a little over a month ago, and, for the last two weeks, the bouquets have been arriving at the set or at my home almost every day. The card always reads I miss you, I love you, or You mean the world to me. But I won’t change my mind and take him back. Nope. Not gonna happen. I’m determined to put this chapter of my life behind me.

  “You have to admit the guy is trying,” Heather says as she’s taming my wild curls, furiously ironing my hair to style it into an elegant updo.

  “I’d rather he’d made more of an effort when we were still together. I constantly begged him to stop drinking, but it was like I was talking to a wall.”

  And don’t even get me started on his jealousy. He was painfully jealous of my co-host, Todd Peters - jealous I made more money than him and jealous I had a more successful career than him. He threw that in my face on several occasions. His bitterness came out even more violently when he was drunk, which came down to almost every day in the last weeks I put up with him. He never laid a hand on me, but his mean words were violent enough to feel like I was constantly slapped. Eventually, he wore me down so badly I saw no other solution but to break up with him. He moved out of my house, not too willingly though. My brother had to intervene. Afterwards, I was finally able to breathe and be me again.

  “I want some excitement and spontaneity in my relationship, not a guy constantly lying around on the couch watching sports with a bottle of beer in his hand. Is that so hard? Do they even make men like this anymore?” I laughingly ask Heather.

  “As a matter of fact, they do. You can find them in specialized shops and online. They’re called vibrators.” She grins at her clever joke and finishes pinning one of the last locks of hair to my head.

  “Very funny.”

  “What? You don’t agree? They’re exciting because they always get you to orgasm; they’re also spontaneous since you can use them anywhere and anytime you want. And if you’re feeling especially kinky and daring, you simply put it in the other hole,” she finishes and shrugs.

  Bursting into laughter, I hold my belly. Only Heather can say something like that so nonchalantly. “Yes, a man after my heart,” I sing.

  “Maybe you should start looking for an older man. I mean, these youngsters you’ve been dating… you can barely call them men. They lack experience. Take my Gus for example. I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world. Older men are way more experienced, if you know what I’m saying.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “He always knows which buttons to push.”

  Gus is only seven years older than Heather. At 35, he’s hardly an older man, but if she says so…

  “Please, don’t go there again.” I can’t listen to any more of her sexcapades with Gus.

  “Fine,” she huffs. “What about Todd? He’s been trying to ge
t you out on a date with him ever since you started working here. Why don’t you take him into consideration? Say yes? He’s older than you, he’s good-looking, and I bet he’s a beast between the sheets.” She grins and sprays my hair, then moves to my front.

  “He’s thirty, not an older man. And he doesn’t want to date me. He just wants to get into my panties.”

  “Well, depends on how you look at it. He’s five years your senior. Which means five years more experience. Plus, what’s wrong with getting into your panties? Don’t say no to a good lay. You’re single now. Broaden your horizons.”

  “Well, I don’t date coworkers for starters.” That’s a promise I made to myself. I won’t ever dip my toes in that pool due to a horrible experience in the past. I got into a relationship with one of the cameramen who I worked with in the field. Boy, what a nasty break-up we had. We couldn’t even be in the same room together. So, in the end, I was forced to find a new job. I couldn’t work with him anymore.

  “I didn’t say anything about dating, remember? A hot, passionate night that changes your perspective on life. That’s what I’m talking about.” She straightens. “Pout your lips,” she orders, as she finishes powdering my cheeks, and holds up a lipstick.

  “I don’t think so,” I protest when she allows me to open my mouth, giving her a cheeky grin. I press my lips together to spread the pretty red lipstick evenly.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some uptight ass. It’s just that I’ve already experienced a one night of unadulterated pleasure, a night when all my utmost hidden fantasies came to life. I had such an intense connection with the mysterious stranger who rocked my world. It was a night I’ll never forget, but it was also a night I’m never planning to repeat. A mistake. I’m not really sure why I’m trying to persuade myself it was a mistake, since I was in seventh heaven, but that woman wasn’t the real me. It was the disappointment and the desperate need to forget that drove me into the arms of a man who did all that and much more. Boy, did he help me forget about everything.

  “Well, it was just a suggestion.”

  “I’d rather stick to my battery-operated friend, thank you very much,” I wink at her as I push out of the chair, all glammed up and ready to go.

  “You look hot!” Heather exclaims, proud of her work.

  “Thanks to you,” I say over my shoulder, already on my way to the stylist, who picked out a skin-tight emerald green dress covered in tiny crystals for me to wear today. She paired it with black peep-toe pumps.

  When I finally arrive at the scene, Todd is already waiting for me to begin our rehearsal. Dressed casually in black pants, a blazer over his white-green shirt, and tennis shoes with green laces, he looks damn hot. We do some lighting tests, a microphone test, a test run, and soon after, we’re ready to start the show. While the audience is called inside and shown to their seats, we get the thumbs up from our crew.

  “Goooood evening, Bostonnnn,” Todd’s strong voice fills the room. “My name is Todd Peters and by my side, as always, is my lovely co-host, April Brookes. We have an amazing show ready for you today.” He has that panty-melting smile plastered all over his face. He gently grabs my hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of it as he finishes our introductions, like he does every time.

  “Welcome to the new episode of the infamous show, Celebrity. Hold on to your seats because we have a ton of scandalous stories and juicy details in store for you, as our next guest is none other than the star of rom-coms, America’s sweetheart and the stylish icon, Lily Banks!” I add.

  The audience bursts into applause. Todd and I, with our chemistry, smoothly navigate the show. We engage with our audience, our cheeky banter and occasional flirting brings out that extra little something that attracts viewers every time.

  An hour and a half later, I finally hear the magic words I always love to hear.

  “Aaand it’s a wrap. We’re done!” The director’s words are greeted with the booming applause from our faithful audience.

  Even though I love what I do, I’m always exhausted by the time the cameras turn off because I put all of me into every single episode. I’m a stickler for perfection, so I always give out a hundred and ten percent.

  Todd and I thank our lovely guest for joining us on the show once again, and, by the time we say our goodbyes, the studio has emptied out. I turn on my heels to go to my office, but it doesn’t escape my attention that Todd is still by Lily’s side, undoubtedly trying to charm her pants off, that charming devil.

  “Hey, April, wait a second,” I hear Todd yell, before I manage to disappear around the corner. A second later, he stops next to me, breathing heavily. “You leaving already?” He sticks his hands into the pockets of his pants.

  “Yeah, I just need to grab my things first and change. Why?”

  “Mind if I walk you to your car?” I raise my eyebrow at his seemingly innocent offer, doubting that’s the only thing he’d like to do. Todd always has a secret agenda. Sensing my hesitation, he raises his arms defensively and smiles innocently. “Just want to walk you out. That’s all, sweet cheeks. You know, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be walking all alone in that dark parking garage. You can never be too careful.” His arm snakes around my shoulders and briefly squeezes me into his side.

  “How thoughtful of you,” I say sarcastically, but still smiling, before I reach the changing room.

  Todd, at thirty, is a TV host with lots of experience. He’s hosted a bunch of successful talk shows, and the audience eats out of his hands; they simply adore him. He’s a professional and puts all his efforts and passion into his work. When I heard who was going to be my co-host for Celebrity, I was both thrilled and scared at the same time. I couldn’t wait to meet him. I’m still happy we work together; he’s fun to be around with, even though he’s a hopeless womanizer pursuing every woman that catches his fancy. And I, apparently, haven’t escaped his attentive eyes, as he’s been proposing a tumble between the sheets, as he likes to call it, every chance he gets. He radiates confidence and I can’t blame him. With his hazel-colored eyes, trimmed beard and wicked tongue, he can charm every female that crosses his path. I have to admit I’m not completely immune to his charisma; I ought to have been blind not to be attracted to him. But I’m not planning on breaking my vow to myself to never get involved with a co-worker again.

  “No shenanigans.” I poke my index finger to his chest, grinning up at him, when he’s already waiting for me in front of my office to walk me out.

  A look of complete innocence appears on his face. It’s also completely fake, and he proves it when he pouts and feigns hurt: “An angel such as myself, and shenanigans? You must have confused me with some other handsome fella.”

  “An angel, yeah, right, that’s exactly how I’d describe you,” I snort in laughter, and the teasing and bickering continues all the way to my car.

  “So, you hungry?” he asks, when I open my car.

  “No,” I answer.

  “Thirsty?” He raises his eyebrows.

  “Nope.” I sit inside.

  “Horny?” he continues, casually resting his arm on the car door, his smile wide.

  “Bye, Todd,” I shake my head, smiling.

  “Well, it was worth the shot.”

  “I’m sure it was. Thanks for walking me out. Bye.”

  “Bye, sweet cheeks.” He winks and walks back to his office.

  My legs are barely holding me up as I finally reach the front door of my house. I push the high heels off my aching feet, dump my keys and purse, along with the mail, on the cabinet, and reach down to pick up my fluffy grey ball of fur that patiently awaited me by the door the second I got in. Running my palm down her gorgeous hair, she lets out a satisfied purr. Bella is my cat, my precious baby. She’s so soft and cuddly. She reminds me of a teddy bear every time I squeeze her to me. Her big feline eyes blink slowly, and she buries her head into my neck.

  “Did you miss me, sweetie?” With Bella still pressed tightly to my chest, I stro
ll down the warm woodblock floor to the kitchen. Reaching for the box of cat food, I offer her a treat. Bella jumps down and disappears around the corner.

  Bella is a British shorthair cat, an ideal pet for someone like me who works a lot. Her breed isn’t prone to destroying furniture, and they don’t need company to occupy themselves.

  I open the fridge and grab the bottle of Chardonnay, which is what I need the most after the long and mentally challenging day I’ve had. I fill the glass to the brink with the rich, citrusy wine, and head to the bathroom to freshen up before bed.

  After a good thirty-minute soak in the tub, and a full glass of wine, the ringing of my phone pops my little bubble of relaxation. Not bothering to open my eyes, I blindly grope for my phone, until I locate it on the far end of the cabinet.

  “Hello?” I answer. Silence greets me; the only thing coming through the speaker is deep breathing. “Hello?!” I repeat. “Who’s this?” Annoyed, I open my eyes to check the screen, seeing my ex-boyfriend’s name on it. “Leo?” I still hear nothing but breathing. “You gonna keep breathing or are you actually going to say what you meant to say, calling me?” Silence. “Fine, have it your way. Don’t call me if you have nothing to say. And please, stop sending me flowers.” I try to keep my voice calm and steady. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but flowers and breathing over the phone are not going to win me back. He is well aware this is not the way to woo me and he knows his current behavior is only making it worse. Before I can say anything else, he hangs up. Okay then.

  Two weeks later, as I’m sitting in a café a block away from my work catching up with my brother Max, my phone rings the fifth time this day. I groan and fish the phone out of my purse. I hope it’s not him again. Leo hasn’t stopped calling me, and the calls are getting more frequent each day. I’m sick and tired of him. And there he is again - his name is displayed on the screen. Silencing the call, I toss the phone back into my purse.