Obsession

By Naia Cannon

Bethany Fitzgerald fled her hometown of Temecula, California to Seattle, Washington. She is hell bent on leaving her past behind her, erasing all contact with the people who betrayed her the most. Finally able to feel comfort, Bethany strives to complete her doctorate with no distractions. All is well until she meets Logan Chase, inherited millionaire who does nothing with his life but attends charity benefits, and apparently harass Bethany. Logan is determined to know who the real Bethany is. He doesn't just want her to love him, he wants to be her obsession.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781329792005

Book preview

Obsession

Obsession

Naia Cannon

2016

Copyright

Copyright © 2016 by Naia Cannon

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2016

ISBN #: 978-1-329-79200-5

Dedication

I dedicate this book to those out there

Who craved a love

Worth obsessing over.

One

I took in a deep breath of the air around me. It smelt faintly of lemon and chemicals. I could even smell the dust of the new apartment, signifying that it hadn't been lived in for a while. The light wash hard woods floors and large windows gave the place an inviting feel. It was something new and I desperately needed new.

The last of the stuff came in the room in the arms of the tall muscled man. His long hair and tattooed sleeve only proved to me further that he was tougher than just looks. He unceremoniously dropped the box down on the living room floor as he walked over to me. His brown boots stomping on his way here.

Four fifty. He grunts.

My eyebrows shot up quickly, You said it would only be two hundred.

I get paid by the hour. It took two hours.

Because you and your men took their sweet time! I scold.

The man shrugs and holds out his callous hand, waiting for the cash to be handed over. I narrow my eyes at the man. This is what happens when you get your help online.

I slammed the four fifty into his greedy palms. He exits my new apartment moments later, without even a look back at me. Not even a damned thank you!

Before I have time to adjust to the new settings, the buzz of my phone goes off. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and see, 'Mother' scrawled across the caller ID.

Taking a deep breath, I answer.

Hello?

Oh! Bethany! I showed up to your apartment and you are not there! They said you moved two days ago!

Yes, mother, I am no longer living off of your finances. I am my own woman and I finally managed to get myself away from you.

I moved. I murmured.

Moved? To where? her high pitch voice screamed in my ear.

Like I would tell you!

Once my mother knew, they would know and I refuse to let that happen.

Mother, you know why. I grumbled.

That is insanity. My mother grumbles back, knowing exactly what I am referring to. Instead of digging deeper into the conversation, I quickly end the call with my mother and return to observing the house.

The walls were stark white, giving the house a brand new appeal. It wasn't going to cost me a fortune to live here... if I got a job.

I have yet to indulge into the job search, but I have only been taking things one day at a time. I got here on a wing and a prayer and a lot of Oldie's Rock.

I had four boxes to unpack and a lot of furniture to rearrange. I sigh; I couldn't even begin to comprehend what I wanted to do first.

I took a haphazard attempt to unpack the kitchen, I only manage to unpack the dishes and load them into my dishwasher. Once I hit start I felt exhausted.

Instead of staying home and forcing myself to unpack, I grab my fifty-seven dollars and go in search of, well, anything.

Once I stepped out on the streets, I instantly felt slightly more guarded. It was six in the evening the nightlife was coming alive in Seattle. There were a lot of busy bodies in the streets; everyone seemed to be doing something.

For a millisecond, I was mesmerized from the vibe of Seattle. It was so gloomy, but also beautifully stunning at the same time.

I began to walk mindlessly, with no destination in particular. I walked past each and store, window-shopping. There were many coffee shops, and I could faintly hear soft live music playing. On the streets there were dancers, guitarist, painters, and sellers. All of them called out to me, but I kept walking.

I had never seen anything like this before.

Growing up in the suburbs of Temecula, California didn't introduce me to this life. All of the cookie cutter houses, with neighbors playing nice with each other, Ivy league students, lawyer husbands. It was obnoxious.

Living in a city like this was going to take some getting used to, but it was fabulous. It wasn't New York, but I felt like Carrie Bradshaw.

I walked into a smaller but lively café called U.S.S Maine. As soon as I stepped in, I was in love. A man with curly short hair played the guitar in the front softly. It sounded like an acoustic cover to Drops of Jupiter by Train, one of my favorites.

His eyes looked up to mine for a moment, and then he smiled and continued to sing the lyrics. I ignored the kick-start of my heart as he sung one of the most intimate lyrics of the song. Walking over to the bar, I requested a chocolate muffin and a cocoa.

The small teenage girl with tattoos all over her arms smiled at me and grabbed my muffin while a shaggy blonde made my cocoa in the back. I found my eyes traveling back over to the guitarist at the front of the room.

Now that he wasn't looking at me, I could shamelessly stare at him. He has crystal blue eyes, dark eyeliner all around his eyes. He was wearing a dark green shirt, dark blue jeans, and brown boots.

A thought flashed in my mind, maybe he was into more guys like him, rather than girls like me. I giggle at the thought.

That's Presley, he performs here every night, walks home with someone new every night also. Just a warning. The barista says while she hands me my order.

Dually noted. I smile at her taking my food ad sitting down at one of the tables, observing the very talented man.

Gay or not, he was talented.

I dug into my muffin while thinking over my life for the past couple of days. I can't believe I did it. I can't believe I finally left my personal hell. Me, my busted Coop, and my Queen album made it!

I was proud of myself. My mind kept swirling around the things that happened back in California. I was never going back. I was better off one hundred percent alone. As I look around me, I realize me I wasn't too much alone. Everyone applauding at Presley's finish took me out of my head.

Slowly I began to clap, realizing his set must've been up. Before I could clap once, a smooth accent rang out from beside me.

You're new. He charmed.

You're Irish I retort to the same handsome stranger who was just on the stage.

You're observant. I say back.

Tell me something I don't know. Presley chuckles. I somehow find myself giggling too. Him being way too close doesn't seem to bother me for once.

Actually, his flirting wasn't either. I'm not sure if he wasn't good, or if he was just teasing, but I could tell it was all in good fun.

My name, I say, Beth.

Presley Fowler, pleased to meet you. He says, sticking his hand out to me. I pretend like I didn't see it as I focus on my drink. I didn't want him to touch me.

Um, your set was nice. I murmur, hoping I hid my discomfort well.

Oh that? That was nothing, you should see me at the Red Raven on Saturday's. Presley said.

Pardon? I murmur.

You would have to show up to see, eh. Why? Are you looking for a job? Presley asked.

How did you know? I asked.

I didn't, eh. That is why I asked. Plus, you're a tiny little thing. You look like you would work a bar well. Presley offered, Plus my boss is pretty pissed at me getting the last guy fired.

Well, how did you do that?

He didn't like all the over-friendly guests, wanted out. So me being the honest lad I am, told him to go. Presley explained.

No.

I don't think that is the job for me. I murmur.

You wouldn't have to worry about any grubby mitts on you. He offers, Show up you'll love it.

I'll think about it.

Presley winks, and then walks over to a blonde. He becomes extremely flirty with her and her group of friends, touching all over them and whispering in their ears.

I chuckle, such a gentleman.

I exit the café and made my way back to my apartment, which was only four blocks away. The sun had set, putting me on high alert. Walking into the building, I was greeted by Leonard, the doorman.

Greetings miss. Enjoy your night. He nods. I smile and jog up to the second floor of my building. Once I close my apartment door behind me, I let out a sigh of relief.

The sigh was taken back when I realized how much work I still had to do. I threw off my boots and dug through one of my boxes. I pull out my iHome dock and hook up my iPod to it.

Hitting shuffle, I let the music play. The first song to play was Highway to Hell by ACDC. With a rush of giddy happiness, I let myself dance, using the remote as my microphone. I danced crazily before realizing what I have done.

My very large windows lacked curtains, and outside, a very handsome man walked by in amusement. Instead of being absolutely mortified, I laughed.

Hard.

Laughing felt so good, I didn't do it often in California, everything just felt different in Washington. I was undeniably happy, but I still felt the looming darkness that I knew would make a strong appearance soon.

Shaking those thoughts off, I turned the music down a bit and began unpacking.

Two

The next morning, I woke up on my couch with my blanket curled up around me. Of course, I never finished unpacking. I did manage to unpack the kitchen in its entirety. It had black and white tiles with stainless steel appliances. I decided dark purple was my color. My kitchen had hints of dark purple everywhere. Down to the rug, the magnets on the fridge, even the sponge.

After dancing myself out, I felt too tired to make my way to the living room, and I ended up falling asleep on the couch, listening to the nightlife.

But in doing so, I only insured myself a full day of unpacking. Climbing off of the couch, I stood and stretched. The sun looked as if it was playing peek-a-boo. I looked at the clock on my phone, it read, 11:57am. Wow, I must've been tired.

Who am I kidding? I always slept way too much. Looking around the living, I realized all I had to do in here was move furniture in its place and hang all of my photos.

I didn't have any family photos except the one with my father in it. My dad and I are