Page 1 of Dangerous Obsession

CHAPTER ONE

Breathstuckinherthroat, muscles rigid, Marigold Hartnett pressed her back tight against the wall. Her heart hammered in her chest, her neck, her ears. The towel bar dug into her shoulder blades, but her eyes remained fixed on the bathroom door.

Heavy footsteps vibrated down the hall, came to a stop, and a pair of large feet blocked most of the light spilling under the door. The flimsy, chrome knob jiggled.

“Unlock the fucking door!” her boyfriend, Cliff Barnum, shouted. The hollow door shuddered under the assault of his powerful fists.

She jumped and sucked in a breath. Her insides clenched as if held tight in one of his large hands.

“You don’t actually think this door will keep me outta there, do you?” He continued pounding. “Open. The. Door!”

Marigold’s arm flew up to grip the towel bar. Could she pull it loose? Even if she could, the flimsy plastic tube would never be enough to stop someone his size. It would only anger him further. Her gaze scanned the small space for anything she could use to defend herself. There was nothing.

The drubbing ceased, and she could hear his heavy breaths. Could almost feel his rage and frustration vibrating off the thin barrier.

“I’m going to meet the guys. You better fucking be here when I get back,” he snarled. “And clean this place up.”

Something jangled—his keys maybe—footsteps shuffled, and once again a solid stream of light spilled through the narrow opening. She heard the muted squeak of the floorboards from that one spot where the hallway opened into the front room.

Marigold knew that sound well, had memorized it from all the times he’d come home late after a night out at his favorite bar. It had become her warning to be on guard, to feign sleep and hope he’d just pass out. Unfortunately, that didn’t always happen and she would suffer a much worse type of abuse. The kind of abuse you couldn’t see from the outside, but inside it etched scars deep into her soul.

He cursed again, and the heavy front door slammed. The apartment’s thin walls shuddered as if sharing her terror, and something crashed to the floor in the other room.

Frozen in place, she dared not make a sound. Dared not move. He’d tricked her before.

Please, please make him leave,she silently prayed to a deity she was sure abandoned her long ago.

Marigold strained to hear even a whisper of sound over the rhythmic drips from the showerhead and the high-pitched ringing in her ears that set in the first time Cliff smacked her.

Several long moments later, a heavy silence settled over the apartment. Air exploded from her burning lungs. Her grasp loosened, and her knees gave out. Like a balloon losing its air, she collapsed to the floor of the tiny bathroom. Her head might’ve bumped against the bar on her way down. Insignificant, compared with what she’d just suffered.

She landed on her side and whimpered through tight lips as she carefully pulled her knees up as much as the pain would allow. The urge to make herself as small as possible was intense.

The cold from the tile floor seeped into her cheek, and she gazed across the space at the band of light. She thought about what had upset Cliff this time.

All she’d done was meet her best friend, Dulce Houldcroft, for a quick drink. Actually, thanks to Cliff, she was heronlyfriend.

Knowing how he felt about her spending time with anyone else, especially Dulce, Marigold had spent the last few months coming up with lame excuses for why she couldn’t see her friend. She’d resisted as long as possible, speaking to her only while at work so Cliff wouldn’t find out, but her friend was smart, tenacious, and worried. A powerful combination fueled by the fact Dulce knew aboutsomeof the things Cliff had done to her. Her bestie’s dislike for him was powerful and unforgiving.

Marigold had been careful to schedule their meetup at a place near her apartment and during a time he would be working. That would ensure she made it home before he got there.

During their visit, she continually checked the time on her phone—even though she’d set an alarm. At one point, she’d reached across the table to pull a napkin from the dispenser, and her sleeve slid up, revealing a bruise on her wrist. She’d quickly covered it but not before her astute friend noticed.

Dulce gently took her hand and turned it to get a better look at the injury.

“Dickweed did this, didn’t he?” Her eyes lifted to Marigold as she used her nickname for Cliff. “He hurt youagain.” Her emphasis on the word hovered between them.

“Things have just been really hard for him at work lately.” As always, Marigold made excuses for his abhorrent behavior.

“Who gives a shit?” Dulce released her hold. “That doesn’t give him the right to hurt you.”

“He’s not always like that. Sometimes he’s very loving and sweet.” Although she hadn’t seen that side of him in a long time.

“This is not okay, Marigold.” Dulce dug her purse from her designer tote. “I’m calling my dad.”

“No, wait.” She reached out to stop her. “Please, don’t.”

Her best friend’s dad, Sebastian Houldcroft, was an extremely powerful senator who’d always treated Marigold like one of his own. If he knew even half of what Cliff had done, he would take swift action against him.

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