Wicked Obsession

5.

Saturday, July 13

Whitney Yates, formerly known as Whitney Payne. She married a rich millionaire a couple of months ago, right after her termination from Acerbus Enterprises.

The file doesn't say anything about her reason for leaving. It just held a contract that looked exactly like the one I signed. The rest of the information I gathered was from searching the Internet. I found her on Facebook and scrolled through her page back to about the time she worked for Mr. Styles, but her posts were minimal. Only a few shared posts and a stupid ass obsession over a page called "Doug the Pug".

After finding nothing on Facebook, I looked into her recent marriage. They married about two months ago, right before I got my job. Her husband, Mr. Yates, is scientist who made his fortune on his research on DNA abnormalities. His research led to many insightful discoveries on genetic mutations which has led to ground breaking discoveries and advancement in medicine.

After finding nothing that sparked suspicion, I found a news paper article from yesterday about a charity event the Yates were holding this evening...

I really shouldn't.

But before I can talk myself out of it, I am running from the office and hailing another cab.

*******

After maxing out my credit card and spending way too much fucking money on getting my hair done, I look like a high society dame.

I hadn't exactly though through my insane plan fully but I can't help but give in to my unhealthy obsession. All I can think about is what answers I might find once I meet the mysterious Mrs. Yates.

I have the taxi driver drop me off a ways away from the luxurious house that was bursting with life. The white walls illuminated in yellow lights and the sound of a band carried on the cool evening breeze. Limos and other fancy cars still pulled up to the drive way, where a man with a clipboard checked their names before opening the door and allowing them access to the party.

I scurried around the enormous yard making my way towards the music in the back, careful to avoid the multiple security guards. When I approach the yard, I make sure that no one is looking as I step out of the darkness and begin to melt into the crowd.

I am offered a drink and I accept it graciously, sipping on the champagne that probably costs more than my monthly salary. Finishing it off, I place it down and begin scanning the crowd for Mrs. Yates.

She wasn't that hard to find, her flashy white teeth, perfect blonde curls, and boobs the size of cantaloupes have every girl here wishing they were her. Not to mention fabulously wealthy thanks to her new husband.

I watch her from a distance as she laughs with a bunch of men in suits. Her hair making me want to vomit with envy as she throws it graciously over her shoulder.

After a few more minutes she excuses herself from the group and walks away. I take that as my cue. Rushing over to her I tap her lightly on the shoulder.

"Mrs. Yates? Can I have a word please?"

She turns to face me and looks me over with her annoyingly beautiful blue eyes.

"Of course. I'm sorry I don't know you're name..."

"It's Aurora."

She smiles pleasantly at me and gestures for me to continue.

"I just have a few questions about your previous employment at Acerbus Enterprises. You see I'm—"

Her eyes go wide at the mention of the company and she holds up a hand to vault my words.

"I'm sorry but I can't help you. Now if you'll excuse me."

I don't know what possessed me to do it, desperation, obsession, who knows, but I reach out and yank her backward.

"You have to listen to me, please."

"Get your hands off me!" She squeals, attracting many eyes.

Before I can explain further we are accompanied by a tall man in who grabs Mrs. Yates elbow and totes her behind him. I'm assuming it's Mr. Yates. His dark brown eyes assess me before raising a hand.

"Security, please show this woman out."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

"No wait, please. I just—"

"That won't be necessary Mr. Yates." An unmistakable deep British accent says from behind me.

I freeze on the spot, refusing to turn around. A soft hand is placed on my lower back, causing my body to ignite and tense all at once.

Mr. Yates looks between me and the new guest before calmly replying, "Oh, Mr. Styles, I didn't know she was your guest. My apologies."

Without another word he leaves us. Mrs. Yates eyes me cautiously before following after her husband, leaving me alone. With him.

Slowly I turn around to face him, determined and frightened. I start from his expensive looking black boots and travel up his nicely fitting black slacks. The my eyes admire his cheetah print blazer on top of a black button down that has the top buttons open. Finally I make my way up to his emerald eyes. He looks extremely displeased to see me and his tone is viciously low when he decides to speak.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I'm in so much shit.

People trust their eyes above all else - but most people see what they wish to see, or what they believe they should see; not what is really there.

All the love. 

-A