Blazing Obsession Read Free Page A

squeezing my hand tightly as his tanned faced broke into a smile, revealing a perfect set of teeth.
    Aged forty-five, he stood over six-foot tall, powerfully built with a mop of silver-grey hair, which he occasionally swept back with a manicured hand. He oozed charisma.
    â€œYou know, I’m really excited about joining your group. There’s so much more I could achieve with the right backing.”
    The deep timbre of his voice exuded a belief in himself I’d not encountered before. He could have worked on TV voice-overs or read the BBC news.
    I’d been looking for someone to expand our leasing division across the rest of the group of dealerships. Within the week, I’d appointed him to head up this operation reporting to Peter, my business partner, with a wide-ranging brief to develop this side of our business. We set him challenging targets.
    â€œCan’t wait to get started,” he’d said, smiling broadly. “I’m looking forward to smashing these targets. I usually do.” A combination of
that
voice and
that
smile led me to believe he would.
    Before leaving the dealership, I spoke to Bill Rogers again.
    â€œTell me more about Lynne. She appears too good to be true.”
    Leaning back in his red leather chair, he said, “Ah, Lynne. I thought you’d be impressed. Most people are. Unusual to have a woman heading up a sales team in the car trade, isn’t it?”
    â€œIt’s a first for me. Tell me more about her background?”
    â€œWell, I have to say she’s doing a great job here, despite her personal problems. She went through a messy divorce a couple of years ago.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œThe guy she married turned out to be a complete shit; used to knock her about a bit. Been shagging anything in sight, too. Once she found out, she finally divorced him. The problem is he’s never accepted the marriage is over.”
    â€œWhy? What’s he been doing?”
    â€œOh, you know, keeps harassing her, roughing her up, making her life hell. I think it’s still an issue.”
    I couldn’t understand why a stunningly beautiful woman would put up with such a prick.
    She’d told me she was thirty-two, had an eight-year-old son and lived a few minutes away from me in Limehouse. I could possibly see her apartment block from my penthouse close to West India Quay at Canary Wharf.
    Her interests and hobbies included jogging and going to the gym, something we had in common, although I hadn’t done much of either for months due to working on the acquisition. My trousers now fitted far too snugly around my waist. I promised myself I’d do something about it.
    Next day, suitably motivated, I decided to join the gym close by at Westferry Circus. I spent at least an hour there most evenings for a fortnight working hard to get back in shape.
    I don’t believe in fate; my father always taught me to take responsibility for my own destiny, something I practised throughout my life.
    But one evening at the gym, I spotted Lynne on a running machine. My heart lurched – I felt like a teenager again.
    Her sleek, effortless running style glided over the treadmill. It wouldn’t have surprised me to see her on the front page of the marketing leaflets the gym used.
    A couple of guys glancing in her direction whispered something to each other, obviously discussing what they’d like to do to her. I felt like punching their heads in.
    Fortunately, a treadmill became vacant next to hers. I pretended not to notice her as I set it up, hoping she’d see me first. She didn’t. She watched the TV screen showing the latest news.
    She almost lost her stride when I said, “It’s Lynne, isn’t it?”
    She did a double take before realising who I was.
    Slowing down the treadmill, she said, “Hi. What a surprise. How long have you been a member?”
    â€œJust joined. Haven’t done much lately. Been too busy