Page 47 of Obsessed Mr. O’Brian

A buzzing sounds from my suit coat draped over the back of the couch. Nikki slips the magazine onto the coffee table and approaches me with her arms outstretched.

“My little sister just turned five and doesn’t like to cuddle anymore. May I?” she asks.

I nod and pass Lola to her. My phone stops buzzing in my coat. Nikki paces the circle. Millie pulls another dress off the rack. My phone rings again.

I pull it out of my coat pocket, check the ID, then let Nikki know I need to take a call before heading down the hall.

I answer right before it goes to voicemail. Quinn tells me she retrieved the security footage and sent it to my email. I thank her, hang up, and close myself in the men’s restroom on the far side of the store.

After clicking through to my email, I pause and take a deep breath before tapping the video thumbnail.

I squint at the security footage. My phone screen is too small to make out much detail from the grainy feed, but my stomach sinks as Millie loses all expression and walks like a robot to the man waiting outside her apartment. Two more men join them.

Even without audio, following along with the gist of the conversation isn’t hard. The first man is using Millie as collateral. Sourness coats my tongue. I grit my teeth and look away as the two extra men stride off screen, unable to watch Millie being hurt but powerless to stop it. My phone creaks from my white-knuckle grip.

Amidst my fury and sorrow, my frustration grows.

Millie needs self-defense classes. The way she just shuts down and takes the abuse curdles my insides. Even if she’s too serene and sweet to fight back, she should still be protecting herself.

If this is how she reacts to violence, then maybe I shouldn’t have her as Lola’s sole guardian.

I pause the video as the man strides toward the camera. He looks familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen him before no matter how hard I wrack my brain.

Frustrated at both my ineptitude and the lack of information, I exit out of the video and call Quinn.

“Look into the man. I want a full history. Find out who the thugs work for and shut off their power. Put them out of business. Don’t touch the man yet,” I say without preamble.

She confirms. I end the call.

Even after Millie finishes trying on dresses and Lola wakes from her nap, I can’t stop my brain from picking itself apart trying to remember where I saw the man. We return to the hotel and decompress for a little while before prepping for the conference, but I struggle to focus on work. I’ve seen that man before but don’t know when or where.

As I stand in a fresh suit by the door with Lola’s fancy diaper bag over one shoulder, I finally manage to drop the niggling sense of déjà vu over the man when Millie and Lola turn the corner.

My daughter is absolutely adorable, and my lover is beyond stunning.

I can’t wait to claim them both as mine in front of the world.

Chapter 15

Millie Grant

This man is going to be the death of me. No one has any business being as sexy as he is. It doesn’t matter if he’s wearing a custom-made suit or sweatpants, he’s too fucking hot for real life.

I’m too young for menopause, but I doubt those hot flashes will compare to the ones he’s put me through in the last few hours.

He promised to give me time to focus on Lola first, but I failed to uphold my boundaries and gave in to temptation.

My insides still quake from our stolen moments in the dressing room.

As we exit the car, I silently thank Artur for my new outfit. I thought my wardrobe was fairly complete, but nothing I own could possibly rise to the occasion.

The poshness of the venue far surpasses those previous families took me to.

Beyond the awe in Lola’s face as she stares at the massive chandelier in the foyer as Artur carries her through the opulent front doors—and how freaking adorable a pair they are with Artur a proud father and her a wide-eyed cutie—her interest in the surroundings quickly fades a few minutes into the building. I study her between greeting people important to Artur’s work as he maneuvers us through the crowd. Claustrophobia niggles at my senses, so I shuffle closer to him and sneak a pinch of his coat tail between my thumb and fingers, hoping for a quick, unnoticeable tether to the sturdiest, most trustworthy man I know, and nearly melt into a puddle when he looks over his shoulder at me with the wickedest smirk known to mankind on his face.

He turns back to the growing line of people, hefts Lola higher against his chest, and with his long legs, creates distance between her and the strangers as they ooh and aww and invade her space.

For almost thirty minutes, Lola handles the onslaught rather well for an out-of-her-depth three-year-old. At the first sign of her being over stimulated, I tug at Artur’s coat to get his attention and hold out my arms to his daughter.