Page 95 of Unapologetic Obsession
“No fucking way.”
He towered over me, and my breath hitched. Memories from yesterday returned with a vengeance. I saw him in my mind—hovering above me, his expression unreadable, his presence overwhelming—as he took what he wanted without hesitation. Suddenly, I wanted to wrap my arms around myself and rock back and forth like a mental asylum patient.
He scared the shit out of me, and he had never been more threatening than he was now. My pulse drummed in my ears, each beat a warning, and I instinctively began backing away. His gaze locked on me like a predator tracking its prey, and he followed my retreating form. His footsteps approached me—measured, unhurried, but each one landed like a countdown.
I felt the oncoming panic attack even before it happened. The moment his hand closed around my elbow, the touch burning through the material of my sleeve, something inside me snapped, like a rubber band stretched too far.
“Don’t touch me!” The words tore out of my throat, raw and shaking. I violently wrenched my arm, muscles straining in his clutches. He had never seen me react this way, and it shocked him enough to loosen his grip. I used the window to rip out of his hold, the sudden release stinging my skin where his hand had been.
For one taut, endless second, he didn’t move. The tension between us was coiling, seething. The hurt showed on his face in a fleeting glassiness before he forced his expression into neutrality.
When he stepped forward again, I flung both hands up as if they could shield me from the weight of him. The air around me thickened, pressing against my ribs until I could barely breathe.
“Rose—”
“Please, please stay away from me.” My voice cracked. “Please don’t touch me. I can’t bear to be touched.” With that, I turned and fled, my shoes scraping against the concrete as I ran, every step fueled by the desperate need to put as much distance between us as my legs could carry.
Chapter
Thirty-Two
ROSE
Present
My eyes were fixedon the mirror, admiring the smoldering eye makeup and hair that had been teased and curled to perfection. To my hairstylist’s chagrin, I refrained from touching the hair and ruining her hard work, though my fingers twitched with the nervous urge to do just that. To keep my hands busy, I reached for the assorted fruit bowl on the vanity table. Refreshing sweetness flooded my mouth as I bit into a slice of watermelon and studied my reflection. While the hair and makeup made me look like a vixen, it was the heart-shaped blue diamonds in my earlobes that stole the show.
Maria, my hairstylist, smiled when she caught me ogling the gift from Caden. “Dr. Maxwell has really good taste. The earrings are beautiful.”
“They are,” I agreed, tossing the watermelon shell.
Tonight was an important event—the Captain’s Welcome Reception.
After the whole Natasha incident, I didn’t care to interact with other passengers. Caden seemed content with the idea, and other than a tour of his grandiose boat, we had kept to ourselves for the last few days. This was the first and only social event Caden had insisted on attending. Given his general distaste for other human beings, I realized this event must be highly beneficial to his career. This cruise seemed to revolve around a similar theme—money and power. Wealthy elites booked this cruise under the guise of a family vacation to make deals beside the pool instead of the boardroom. It was a two-for-one deal. Placate their neglected wives and children with a vacation, while they schmoozed with dignitaries from around the world. Wealthy heirs and heiresses sailed away for a fun time, knowing full well they would only be in the company of the upper one percent. Some were looking for rich husbands, others were networking for new opportunities, and most were looking to make connections that’d be beneficial down the line. All the guests were invited to the grand ballroom tonight to flex their money, ego, and power. I knew I had to be on my best behavior the moment Caden made Maria close the salon for the whole works—facial, hair, makeup, nails, and even jewelry.
My gaze fleeted from the earrings to Caden in the mirror. He leaned against the salon’s reception desk, swarmed by an army of minions. My skin prickled with awareness as his eyes caught mine in the reflection. After my showdown with Natasha, Caden had stuck to me like glue. Work had piled up, and his staff had tracked him down to the spa. They updated him on numerous matters about tonight’s event and urged him to return the important phone calls he had been ignoring. Unfortunately for them, his attention sliced through their fluttering concerns, locking on me like a laser.He gave them vague, distracted replies, while the weight of his attention caressed me like a physical touch from across the room.
Caden and I stared at each other in the mirror until Amelie drew my attention away. She leaned over, her face next to mine. “You look so beautiful, Rose.” She grabbed both my shoulders and squeezed, pressing her cheek against mine for an air-kiss.
“Amelie,” Caden barked, shooting daggers at the nurse with his eyes. “Did you come here to update me about my messages or to interrupt Rose’s appointment?” He didn’t like it when I was intimate with anyone else, even if it was in a non-sexual manner. He particularly disliked it when others pulled my attention away from him.
Amelie straightened. “Sorry, Dr. Maxwell. There were forty-eight phone calls for you today. I took detailed messages for each one.”
My eyes followed Amelie as she marched to Caden with a clipboard in her hands. She didn’t know that I remembered more than I let on. Amelie was my friend throughout college, and a roommate, if I remembered correctly. For whatever reason, she was going along with this elaborate charade, though she had nothing to gain by lying. Perhaps she enjoyed that I no longer flinched when she dolled me up or showed me warmth with hugs whenever Caden wasn’t around to intercept it. I had almost become curious about how long she’d keep up the ruse. I teased her mercilessly with random snippets of our past—handing her a granola bar for breakfast or randomly ordering her an almond chai latte. She tensed whenever I let the past slip into our present, a frozen smile plastered to her face.
I never disclosed exactly how much I remembered. For some reason, it felt important that both Caden and Amelie came clean to me on their own. Although Caden’s reasons for lying seemed more nuanced, these earrings were evidence of it. Once more, I glanced in the mirror to appreciate the hypnotic blue gems.
Caden’s lips curled with self-satisfaction when he caught me admiring his gift, and I confirmed the lurking suspicion—he hadgifted me these earrings before, but I didn’t accept them. There was something familiar about them when Maria placed the box on the vanity table with a casual, “Dr. Maxwell chose your jewelry for the Captain’s Reception tonight.”
When I saw the blue diamond hearts, I realized the glasses he occasionally wore were adorned with the same gems. It jogged a vague recollection of an argument with Caden, where I had rejected the piece of jewelry and him along with it. I recalled spouting lame excuses for my heartless behavior, and I was positive all of them were made up.
Despite the ruthless rejection, I never gave Caden the decency of a truthful explanation, nor could I remember it. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to start over with a clean slate when the opportunity presented itself. To be honest, I wanted the same. I fell halfway in love with him on the day he found me on this boat. But now, every corner of my heart had his name etched on it. For the life of me, I couldn’t recall why I had spurned him in my previous life when the pull between us was so magnetic.
My mind had been split between my old memories and my new feelings. Unable to understand the conflicting emotions, I’d decided to separate myself into two parallel selves. My former self—let’s call her Rose A—had entirely different values and logic than I—Rose B. I tried in vain to make sense of my predecessor’s decisions.
According to the scraps of memory resurfacing at odd moments, the interactions with Professor Maxwell were the highlight of Rose A’s black-and-white days. He dismissed other students, refusing to hold office hours. Yet he lingered with her well after class, discussing theories beyond the curriculum, making her feel seen in ways no one else had. He noticed she was a slow note taker and implemented the use of laptops during lectures for her sake. While others seemed irritated byher inability to speak at will, he practiced patience and never rushed her responses. He was attuned to her needs and went to great lengths to accommodate her idiosyncrasies. Each fragmented memory left me astounded by the depth of her feelings for him. Spurning his advances made no sense. She was about to graduate; it shouldn’t have matteredthatmuch if Caden was her professor.
I could only speculate about her choices with a weak theory. While I was pathetically infatuated by Caden, his attention might have destabilized Rose A. The more he focused on her, the more she viewed him as a threat. My heart ached at the thought. In the grainy footage of recollection, I saw her retreating to the sidelines and living vicariously through others. Each flash of her past revolved around stilted conversations, refusal to make eye contact, avoiding attention, and a general distaste for intimacy. Caden was the spotlight that burned too bright. Anyone near him was dragged to the limelight, whether they wanted it or not. The thought of Rose A under such exposure made my stomach twist. Perhaps it was both self-preservation and self-sabotage that made her reject Caden. It was the only way she knew how to survive.
