His Obsession Page 3

  Erica sighed and looked like she was fighting boredom as she stifled a fake yawn. “The Penisula.”

  “You let your teenage daughter stay at a hotel overnight with some prick?”

  Erica slid up from her dressing table stool and paced towards me, her face twisted into a bitter mask. “You are not her father, Henderson. I don’t know what this twisted fascination you have going on with my daughter is, but it’s got to stop. You can’t drag down a star on the rise.”

  “I don’t want to drag her down. I just want to keep her safe.” I spluttered the words while trying to maintain my control. This woman had let her only daughter stay in a strange hotel overnight? What sort of headlines was she aiming for?

  “You need to move on. This obsession of yours is unhealthy for both of you,” she said with force and I backed away from her, her words and insinuation ringing in my ears.

  “I’m trying to keep her safe from obsessives,” I tried to keep my tone even but it was a struggle I wasn’t likely to win.

  She grabbed the edge of the door. “No, Blake.” Her eyes cast over me with pity. “It’s you that’s obsessed.” With that she shut her door and I slammed my way back down the hallway, my fist connecting with the smooth cream paint every now and then.

  Marty was in the kitchen when I got back down. “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Sophia stayed at the Peninsula with Fairweather last night. Did you know that was planned?”

  Marty held her hands up, her face folding into a frown. At twenty-five she was closer to my age than Sophia’s but the three of us had always got on well enough in the last eighteen months since Marty arrived. “Nothing to do with me, although I’m not surprised. He’s been hot for her since the filming of Summer Love.”

  Hot for her? I blanched at her words and a bitter bile threatened to creep up my throat. “I’m going to get her.”

  Marty laid her hand on my arm. “No, you aren’t. Seriously, Blake, if you do that Sophia won’t forgive you.”

  I frowned in disbelief. “Won’t she be more worried if I’m not there, not doing my job?”

  Marty laughed, tucking her bobbed hair behind her ears. “I doubt she’s even noticed.” With that she made her way to Sophia’s room to get her stuff ready for the day and I leant over the kitchen island trying to decide if I was going to storm to the poncey hotel or wait it out.

  In my head, I had one word circling over and over again. Obsession.

  Was I obsessed with Sophia? Sure, I wanted to protect her, look after her. I knew that girl better than anyone. The times that I had spent in the middle of the night when there was no one else around to comfort her had created a tenuous bond between us. But was I obsessed? If she was to come home right now and tell me she was crushing on Fairweather, that they’d spent the night shagging like rabbits, how would I react?

  I threw a porcelain mug at the far kitchen wall watching it splinter into shards of fractured china as it showered onto the floor. I knew how I was going to react.

  And I knew it was wrong.

  By the time she arrived home at eleven, her eyes hidden behind large shades that I knew hadn’t been with her when she’d left to go to the party, I was a boiling vat of tension. Across her slim shoulders was a leather jacket that also wasn’t hers, and it was man-sized.

  “Hey, Blake, what’s up?” She kept her head turned away as she flung her bag onto the island where I still stood. My back was snapping in two from the strain of bending for hours, but I hadn’t wanted to move, in case moving had taken me to the car and to her.

  “Nothing.” I growled the word and lifted my eyes to meet her face. Her lips were pink and full. Bruised.

  Which was worse, that I wanted to kill the person who’d bruised them, or that I was jealous I hadn’t been the one to do it?

  This was some serious fucked up shit.

  My chest tightened and the knots of muscles in my stomach contracted until breathing became impossible. I drummed my fingers onto the counter to try to relieve the tension. “How was your night off?” she asked, sliding a wicker basket full of fresh bagels towards her and turning it until she found a poppy seed topped bun at the bottom.

  “Fine.” I took a breath but it stung my throat and I knew I needed to get a grip. Obsessed. “How was your night, the party? Better than you thought?”

  I had my eyes on her face so I easily saw the pink stain that travelled along her high cheekbones.

  Right there and then I knew I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t spend all day watching those puffy lips.

  I dragged a painful lungful of air into my chest. “Actually, Sophia, I’m going to be off today, something’s come up. Samuels is going to be covering me.”

  She dropped the bagel and seeds scattered along the pristine top. “But, you are never off.”

  I looked her directly in the eyes. “Well, now I am.” I turned on my heels and marched for my room out by the pool deck. Once the glass doors were closed and I’d yanked the drapes across I grabbed for my phone and dialed through to Samuels explaining I had a headache and that I needed him to cover.

  Then I sat in the dark. That word kept circling my head. Obsessed.

  Falling on the bed, I stared at the ceiling. My life had become an empty room.

  Sophia had been one of the first jobs I’d taken. When I’d crashed out of Hendon and police training I’d had nothing to do, not until a guilt-ridden friend had suggested I put myself forward to look after a young twelve-year-old having some problems with inappropriate letters. In truth, I probably hadn’t been the best person for the job—my experience had been limited—but I’d grown into my role.

  Now my life consisted of a king size I rarely slept in, four blank walls and a battered guitar case I hardly opened.

  Grabbing for my phone I dialled a number I hadn’t called in five years. “Sloane, it’s me,” I said when the answer message told me to speak. “I need an out. I’ve got to get out of these Hills, something at home, hook me up if you hear of anything.”

  After I’d disconnected, I stared at the ceiling long and hard until darkness dragged me down into an uneasy sleep.

  When I woke there was a dark form on the edge of the bed. I jumped, rushing back against the mattress as I struggled to focus. “Sophia?” I could make out her bare long legs tucked up as she sat and watched me sleep as lengthening shadows crept into the room.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Her voice was low.

  “What are you doing in here?” I pulled the sheet across my body.

  I wanted to check to make sure you weren’t still angry with me.” Her voice wobbled and I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  “What, no, I’m not angry with you.”

  A wry smile flashed across her face. “Yes, you are.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Yes, you are, you’re cross with me because I stayed out.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not my business, Sophia. As you said yesterday, you’re a big girl.”

  Her eyes held mine. “You don’t see me like that though, do you?”

  Sleep muddled my mind. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t see me as I am now; you just see the little girl you used play computer games with.”

  A low chuckle shook my chest. Shit, I missed those days. “Believe me, that’s not the case.” I stood from the bed, resisting the urge to stretch and grabbed a T-shirt from the chair in the corner and slid it over my head, pushing my arms through the holes. I rarely wore casual as I was always dressed for the job. There was something nice about being in my own space, dressed in my own clothes. “Want a soda?” I worked my way to the small fridge and grabbed some diet cokes. I knew I needed to get her out of my room before Erica spotted her, but she was obviously upset and I wasn’t a total prick.

  I passed her a can and sat myself on one of the high bar stools in the kitchen I never used. “How was your night, Sophia?” I kept my voice soft, wanting to unwind the anger I’d thrown at her earlier in
the day when my tensions had got the better of me.

  She shrugged. “It was okay. I called mum to ask her to send Samuels but she said he was off duty.”

  That pulse of anger flooded through me again and the can of coke dented under my annoyed touch. You should have called me.”

  Another tear slid. “I thought you were angry with me.”

  So, God help me, I took a step towards her, unable to resist. My finger ran along the bracelet against her wrist before lingering along the skin there. “That’s what this is for, Sophia. This is your connection to me even if you don’t have a phone, or if you’ve lost everything, you just press the button.”

  “But you were mad.”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t mad. You were the one who was angry with me, all because I wouldn’t talk to you about my private life.”

  She blinked up at me, and it broke my heart to see her look so confused.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. Press the damn button, it’s there for a reason.”

  Another tear fell and I raised a hand to capture it on my index finger. The air tightened into tangible web of electricity around us. “What happened, Sophia?”

  If he’d hurt her I knew I’d pull his head from his body with my own bare hands.

  “He kissed me.”

  I frowned. “You’ve kissed people before, haven’t you?” This was the most awkward conversation I’d ever considered having. Had she though? Wasn’t I always there like a looming black cloud of disapproval.

  She shrugged. “I guess it wasn’t the kiss I’d been hoping for.” She lowered her thick lashes and I swallowed painfully.

  “It’s not worth crying over though, is it?” I prompted. Her eyes met mine and I was nearly undone as blues swimming in salt water blinked up at me.

  With a visible straightening of her back she offered me a smile. “Can I hang here? I don’t want to be in the main house.”

  I grinned at her, it was impossible not to. “Not exactly me having a day off is it, Sophia?”

  “Well, technically I don’t think I’m under threat here, so yes, it’s a day off.”

  Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her that if she was under threat from anyone it was probably me and my obsession.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Where did you learn to cook?” She sat on the kitchen counter. Her long legs, poking out from denim cut offs, dangled over the edge and I tried my damnedest not to notice the smooth shape of her calf.

  “Well, before I came to you, to save you from the bogeyman...” I grinned at her. When I’d first started and she’d been petrified of the letters and the content she never should have known about, I used to say I’d never let the bogeyman catch her and cover her in greenies.

  “Shut, up, Blake.” She flushed and I chuckled as I stirred the Alfredo sauce.

  “Okay, okay.” I mimed a big walking monster, with my arms swinging by my side and she swatted with me a tea towel. “Well before that I was at Hendon completing my police training.”

  “I remember this. Dad said you were a not quite policeman.” Her face fell at the mention of her missing dad, but I kept it light by laughing.

  “Not quite policeman. I like that.” I stirred the sauce again turning away from the big blues staring at my mouth as I spoke. “As a not quite policeman I had to feed myself or survive on chips and burgers so I bought a cookbook and got on with it.” I waved the spoon at her. “Sophia, let’s not get carried away here, this is only pasta.” Our eyes met and there was a moment of intense silence as we watched one another like two fighters circling before the first punch is thrown.

  I served up into bowls and we sat on the shaggy rug and slurped the pasta in without conversation. “That was bloody good, Blake. I can’t believe you’ve been keeping your culinary skills a secret.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “You’re very excited about a bowl of mediocre pasta today, Sophia, what’s going on with you?”

  “I just want to show you that this isn’t all about me.”

  Frowning, I put my spoon into my bowl. “This is all about you, that’s what I’m here for.”

  She nodded slowly. “Blake.” The way she said my name, killed me. It made my stomach twist and turn. “I am sorry about the car ride yesterday.”

  “Sure thing, kid, I know.”

  She flushed at my use of the word kid but didn’t say anything.

  “So, what was kissing Jonathan Fairweather like in real life? Was it the same as on set?” I asked and then chuckled to myself as she scorched a burning flush.

  “Not good. I think he saves his best moves for the camera.”

  I snorted and it made her laugh. “What do you know about best moves?”

  This was dangerous ground, risky conversation. A fact that was confirmed when Sophia shifted onto her knees and moved over the rug towards me. I held my breath, silently begging her not to come closer so I wouldn’t have to rebuke her and knock her down when she was obviously delicate.

  “Will you play for me?”

  I narrowed my eyes, not understanding. “Play what?”

  With an incline of her head Sophia motioned to the dusty guitar box. “Oh, I don’t play anymore.”

  “Why’s it here then?” she answered straight back.

  It was a good question. I offered her a wry smile. “I needed something to pack otherwise it looked pathetic.” One glance around my bare room told me all I need to know about pathetic.

  Unfolding her legs, Sophia stood from the floor. “It’s just as well I’m the actress out of the two of us. You’d never win any awards.” She padded to the corner of the room and brought me back my case.

  “It’s going to be terribly out of tune.” I tried to put her off but she sat back down again.

  “I can wait.” Crawling on her knees she placed herself on the floor just in front of me and watched as I snapped the latches undone and opened the stiff leather. The wooden neck of my old guitar felt odd in my hand, strangely heavy like it was rebuking me for its neglect. I stroked along the strings and sure enough it pinged back at me in discontent. I let out a low chuckle.

  “Yep, it’s going to take some tuning.”

  Sophia lowered herself onto the floor, back flat against the rug as she started to twirl her hair and pick off imaginary split ends.

  “Congratulations on winning last night.” I said, without making eye contact.

  “Thanks.” She kept her gaze focused on her hair. “It’s nothing really.”

  I nudged her with my bare foot and I was sure she held in a breath. “It’s everything,” I said. “You deserve it.”

  Rolling over, she turned to look at me. “What if I don’t want it?”

  My fingers began to pick out notes, the familiarity of rhythm returning to me as my hands moved. “What do you mean? You’re very talented, there is a reason why all the producers on Hollywood want you in their movies.”

  She moved until she could drop her elbows onto the floor and place her chin in her hands. “But what if there was something else? This is all I’ve ever known. One successful TV show and suddenly you’re wanted on both sides of the Atlantic. What if I would have been happier staying at school, chilling with friends.” Her gaze lingered on mine. “Having a boyfriend, even.”

  My fingers continued to run over the strings but my mind couldn’t focus on what I was playing as I watched her slide up again and approach me slowly as if she was moving towards a wounded animal. “What if I’m never going to experience anything normal, because of who I am?” She asked, those damn tears lining her eyes again.

  “What’s normal, Sophia? Is your abnormal better or worse than another girl’s normal? How are you to know?”

  She flashed me the smile, the one that only I saw. “How come you are so wordly wise for a bodyguard?”

  My fingers stuttered but then picked up the rhythm again. “It’s because I’m so old and wise.” I shot her a smile.

  “Don’t start that again,” she warned wit
h a wag of her finger.

  “Or?” I teased leaning over my guitar slightly.

  “Or this.” Before I could move away her hands linked around my neck, slender fingers weaving into the hair at the base of my head and her lips kissed mine. Just softly, a brushing glance. I held myself still, my heart pounding in my chest as desire shot through me, rushing blood to every limb and every muscle.

  Through her parted lips I could taste her sweet breath, and the tang of the pasta sauce. My resolve began to crumble. I could kiss her, taste her, feel her tongue against mine. I could do that and then stop it.

  I let out a low groan and mumbled her name against her mouth. “Sophia, don’t.” I reached behind my head and grabbed hold of her wrists, bringing them with ease in front of me, grasping them both in one of my hands as my other trailed along her face. “Sophia, you can’t do that.”

  “Why? I know you want me.”

  She wasn’t wrong. My dick was straining against my jeans so much it hurt, but still, I knew I never would. I tried to think about ways to let down a seventeen-year-old girl easy, but all I could concentrate on was the pulse of blood hardening my dick into a ticking time bomb.

  “It’s not about who wants what,” I kept my voice soft. “It’s about right or wrong.”

  “You’d rather I fucked someone else?” her words were a slap across my face. “You’d rather I fucked someone like Jonathan than admitted how I felt for you?”

  I hadn’t cried since I was fourteen years old. But, right there in that moment I wanted to. Her words cut me that bad. “You don’t know what you feel for me.” I tried to pull her closer so I could comfort her. It was probably a terrible idea, but I hated to see her hurt. I knew I’d hurt her, hurt the little girl I’d always tried to protect.

  “Why, because I’m too young?” she sneered and her face contorted into a mask I’d never seen before. It was bitter and full of the poison of this town.

  “This isn’t anything to do with age, Sophia.” I was lying. This had everything to do with those miserable five years that had turned me into some form of pervert for wanting her the way I did. “It’s to do with you and my job. The two things aren’t meant to be anything else. You are you, and I’m your bodyguard.”