Chapter 1
Dangerous Obsession Sneak Peek
CHAPTER ONE
Breath stuck in her throat, 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 her only friend.
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 about some of 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 you again.” 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.
“But, Mari—”
“Please,” she pleaded. “I’m going to leave him, I promise. I just need to take care of a few things first.”
Dulce hesitated. “Fine, but if he lays a hand on you again, I’m calling in the big guns.” She dropped her phone back into her tote bag.
Marigold’s alarm chimed, and she flinched.
“I’ve got to go.” She turned it off and grabbed her purse.
Her friend reached across and touched her forearm, then laid a dose of brutal honesty on her.
“You are my best friend, and I love you like a sister. But it is getting harder and harder to be your cheerleader. The pom-poms are getting too damn heavy.” She gave her a sad smile.
“Only you can make things better for yourself. You know I’ll help in any way I can.
But honey, it’s very difficult for me to sit by and watch what’s happening to you. It hurts too much.”
She gripped Marigold’s hands tight and looked her straight in the eye.
“You are one of the strongest people I know. I just wish you knew it, too.”
“Thanks. I love you, too.” Marigold gave her a quick hug and a forced smile. “I’m going to be okay. I promise.”
They walked outside, said their goodbyes, and, as she watched her only remaining friend walk away, a looming sense of finality settled over her. If Marigold lost Dulce, she would have absolutely nothing left.
She checked the time and hurried to her car. Cliff wasn’t due home for at least two hours, but she wouldn’t be comfortable until she was inside their apartment.
She climbed in her car and pulled away from the curb. About ten minutes later, she turned in to her apartment complex, wound her way through the parking lot until their building came into sight, and her stomach dropped.
Cliff was already there, backing his truck into their reserved spot. He parked, turned, and his angry gaze connected with hers.
She stopped the car, frozen in place, her grip painful on the steering wheel as she stared into his furious eyes. For a split second, she considered driving away and never coming back. But he would find her. Of that, she had no doubt.
Cliff narrowed his eyes and, as if he could read her thoughts, gave a slow shake of his head.
Like a trained dog, she lifted her foot off the brake, rolled forward, and parked in the nearest empty spot.
He climbed out of his truck, slammed the door, and stormed over to her car. He yanked on the door handle, but it was locked, so he smacked his hand flat on her side window and leaned close.
“Get the fuck out of the car and get inside.” His breath fogged the window, his face was red, and that scary vein in the center of his forehead bulged. “And don’t even fucking think of looking at anyone.” He growled the words, straightened, and scanned the parking lot.
Painfully familiar with that particular tone, she shut off the engine. The second the lock clicked, he yanked open the door, wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and jerked her from behind the wheel.
“Get your fat ass inside.” He shoved her ahead of him.
Marigold kept her eyes down, but in her peripheral vision she saw one of their neighbors walking his dog. The older man stopped and watched them.
“What the fuck you lookin’ at, asshole?” Cliff made a move toward him.
The man bent down, picked up his little dog, and hurried back to his building across the parking lot. Everyone knew Cliff was a bully, and no one dared to tangle with him.
She continued straight up the single flight of stairs and into their apartment.
The second the dead bolt slid into place, he rounded on her, grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back against the door. “Where the hell were you?”
She found out later that he was home early because he’d gotten fired from his job. Whatever the reason, it must’ve been really bad, because the owner of the company was a good friend of his parents.
“I … I met … Dulce for … for a drink. But I only had a soda.”
“I told you how I feel about that little bitch. She’s a bad influence, and I specifically said I didn’t want you around her anymore.” He stepped closer, so close she could smell beer on his breath. “I’ll bet you and your whore friend were flirting with guys at the bar, too, weren’t you?”
“Dulce is not a whore!” She refused to let him talk that way about her best friend.
Fast as a snake strike, his palm connected with her cheek.
Her continued denials seemed to fuel his rage. A slap led to a shove, which led to a kick, which led to a punch, which led to her current state—curled up and cowering on the floor in a locked bathroom.