Page 55 of Unapologetic Obsession
It was then that Rose managed the unthinkable—she made me laugh. It wasn’t the sarcastic laugh that scared my staff, but a wholehearted one that took even me by surprise. I chuckled for the first time in ten years. “Of course you arrived early to set up and do a safety check.” None of my staff would have had the good sense to take the initiative, but Rose would never leave anything to chance. I laughed again.
She seemed happy, too. Receptive.
Fuck, Damon’s advice worked. Shedding my sternness and engaging in brainless chatter with other insignificant people made Rose see me in a new light. I had exercised patience with her, but I never thought of doing so with others as well.
“I thought you weren’t coming.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t miss it. Plus, I love boats.”
I opened my arms to gesture at all the empty rooms on this level. “Then pick your favorite room and stay the night. Each guestroom has a unique theme.”
“Are you staying the night, too?”
“That’s my suite.” I nodded at the wooden door behind her. “It’s unlocked if you want a tour.”
She blinked, and I realized I had gone too far with the insinuation. I opened my mouth to say something that would put her at ease, but then she rose on her toes, banded her hands around my neck, and pulled me in for a kiss.
Chapter
Nineteen
ROSE
I spottedDamon the moment I joined my lab group at Professor Maxwell’s party. He was by the bar with his signature cigarette in hand. Amelie handed me a drink, and I knocked back the double vodka with club soda, tryingnotto stare at him. Despite my best efforts, my gaze flicked back to him for the fiftieth time.
Amelie knew about my feelings and cornered me after my third drink of the night. Thankfully, Matt and Sean had left to grab us another round. “By the way you’re tryingnotto stare, I assume that’s Damon standing by the bar, not Professor Maxwell.”
“Oh, it’s Damon, all right.”
“They’re identical twins. I still don’t get how you can always tell them apart.”
I shrugged. “Professor Maxwell gave up smoking years ago. Plus, he doesn’t let his hair fall over his eyes like that.” I nodded at Damon with his loose waves. “It might compromise his vision during work. Everything about him has to be perfect, and that means not a hair is out of place. But most importantly, Professor Maxwell doesn’t have the patience for small talk. He would never entertain people the way Damon is doing right now.”
“Professor Maxwell told you all that?”
“No. I figured it out by watching him.”
“Oh.” She stared at me for a moment. “What do you like about him?”
My brows drew together. I hated it when people questioned Professor Maxwell’s qualities. I had worked closely with him all semester and understood him implicitly. Contrary to the rumors, he wasn’t a villain; he merely hated subpar work, and for good reason. His research was a matter of life and death. He was hard on us because the margin of error was low. Currently, he was conducting a drug trial to create a non-addictive pain medication for patients recovering from surgeries and such. His work could save forty million souls from opiate addiction and spare their families the agony of watching their loved ones suffer, the same way he had with his mother.
If only others could see through his tough exterior, they would change their minds about him. To me, Professor Maxwell was the answer to all my prayers. He offered me a job upon graduation, and thank God for it, because my father cut me off after discovering I had changed my major. It happened last month. His name had flashed across my phone on a Friday evening. He rarely called while away on business, so the moment I saw it, I had a sinking feeling about why he had made the exception.
“Hi, Papa,” I had answered his call softly.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled on the other end of the line.
I pulled the phone away from my ear. My muteness had already been a decade-long problem, no need to turn me deaf as well.
The conversation only went downhill from there. He switched from English to Hindi, something he only did when his rage was through the roof.
“I just got off the phone with Chad. He called me to personally invite me to my daughter’s graduation. Imagine my surprise when I found out your ceremony would be held in the courtyard of the chemistry building.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. The dean sucked up to my father since he often made large donations to the university. It never occurred to me that he might personally invite Papa to my graduation. Each department at the university held a separate ceremony for their graduating class. If I were still a finance major, my ceremony would have been at the business school ballroom. It didn’t take long for my father to put two and two together; he was invited to the chemistry building’s courtyard because I changed my major.
“Papa… I?—”
“Chemistry? You changed your major to chemistry after I specifically forbade it?” His voice was like a whip, measured but laced with fury.
