Page 195 of The Sweetest Obsession

Only now his gaze flicks to Ophelia as she storms onto his boat.

What’s she doing?

“Ophelia, no!”

I snap out of my trance and dash after her just as she stops in front of him and thrusts out her hand.

“Keys,” she demands.

“Uh. What?” The man blinks at her.

“I need yourkeys!” Ophelia flings her hand out at the water. “My sister is on that boat with a man who’s going to hurt her, maybe even kill her. So is a little girl I love very much. By the time the Coast Guard gets here, they could be dead. Can I please borrow your boat so I can save them, or am I going to have to throw you out of it with my bare hands?”

Goddamn.

Only Ophelia Sanderson would still say ’please’ while threatening a man.

She’s sobbing by the time she’s done, but resolute.

This tiny powerhouse, jacking a boat from a man twice her size for the people she loves. She stares up at him with tears streaking down her face.

With a soft, sympathetic sigh, the man fumbles his keys from his pocket and hands them over without protest, giving her an almost awed look.

“Do what you gotta do, ma’am,” he says. “Just try to return her without a scratch.”

Ophelia grabs the keys and turns to face me, her chin thrust out stubbornly.

“Well?” she demands. “Are you coming or not?”

24

THE LAST ONE LEFT (OPHELIA)

Confession time.

I’ve never driven a speedboat before in my life.

If you think that’s going to stop me? Ha.

Not after I saw him.

He washurtingher.

Ros wasn’t there willingly, not after seeing my texts. No matter how messed up she is—no matter what he’s done to her—I know she wouldn’t.

She’s a hostage now.

And there’s nothing I’ll let come between me and saving my sister.

Not now. Not ever. And with Nell trapped on that boat with them?

I swear, I’ll ram this speedboat right through the hull if it means saving them.

The yacht’s a big boat, no question.

Its high-powered engine roars as it churns out to sea—charging forward like there’s no one at the helm. But the boat I’ve ‘borrowed’ was made for speed.

I lean into the yoke hard, gripping the wheel tight enough to make my fingers go numb, as if I can urge the boat forward with my entire body.

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