What happened tonight was simple biology. Samson Vexley is an attractive man. An exceptionally attractive man. Tall, hard, and dangerous in the way women have been taught to romanticize until it gets them killed.
I know what he is.
I know what his family is.
And I know why I went to the club tonight.
I straighten and turn off the lamp by the desk.
I should go to bed.
Instead I stand there in the dark.
I was supposed to walk into that club and study Samson Vexley.
I was supposed to notice the room bending around him, the way men deferred and women watched and nobody ever came too close without permission.
I was supposed to leave with information.
I did.
But that information isn’t the truth that follows me into the dark.
The truth is hotter.
When he stepped close, I didn’t want him farther away.
For one catastrophic instant in that club, I wanted Samson Vexley to touch me.
And that is the worst complication of all.
3
SAMSON
Mercy is the first weakness.
My father drilled those words into my head from the time I was old enough to talk.
The gates open before I reach them. They’re ornate black wrought iron, set into stone and tall enough to discourage even the most innocent curiosity. The bars are spaced too narrowly to see much of what lies beyond unless you already know what you’re looking for.
I don’t slow as I pass through. I drive myself. Nathaniel has a driver. So does our father. Me? I prefer to control my own vehicle.
My headlights flash over the crest at the center of the gate.
A narrow iron key.
Then it’s gone.
The gates close behind me, and I don’t look back.
The drive curves through a line of dark pines that swallow most of the light. The stone of the house emerges first, then the angles of the roofline, and last, the tall and narrow windows.
I cut the engine in front of the main entrance and step out into the cold.
The air is still. No wind. No movement in the trees.
I walk through the front doors onto the marble floor. It’s warmer in here, but still, I feel like the temperature drops a few degrees.