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Emily sighs in defeat and hooks her arm with mine. The heat from her body soaks through my suit, as her exotic perfume with notes of cinnamon, cognac, and vanilla fills my senses. My cock responds to her closeness, and I’m reminded that this is dangerous territory. I should walk away, but I can’t.

I admire her strength and struggle, and I can help make it better. I don’t have it in me to turn my back on her. Rob will pay for what he did tonight. I’ll make sure of it.

CHAPTER TEN

ALDEN

Four hours later, I’m in my sweatpants sitting on the edge of the bed, wide awake. As I suspected, Camille is somewhere else in the house for the night, and my eyes are glued to the wall that separates me and Emily.

Years ago, long before I was even born, the room next door was for a nanny. The entire house was remodeled after my mother met my father, and now it’s just as large and beautiful as this room, but…the old door that connects the two still exists. And the temptation to make sure she is sleeping peacefully keeps me glued to this spot.

Emily is not my responsibility, so why can’t I put the thought of her aside? This has never happened to me before, and I don’t fucking like it.

With a sigh, I finally open the proposal. It’s as neat and organized as if I’ve written it myself. It carefully outlines the floors, flowers, colors, cost for each item, and includes a delivery schedule. The cost…not enough. She’s undercutting herself, and I know it. It’s less than half of what the company I currently use charges.

I’m seconds from marching next door when I remember that it’s almost four in the morning. Unable to calm my restless spirit, I head out into the hallway. I pause for a moment at Emily’s door, listening for any indication she may be awake. But all is quiet.

Jogging down to the kitchen, I put on the kettle to make myself some tea when movement catches my eye. I stare out the window, searching the dark on the other side of the pond, near the trees. But there’s nothing.

On any other night I’d blame it on my imagination, but after finding my sliding door open…I’m going to trust my instincts. Someone is fucking with me, and they will end up with their throat slit.

Turning off the stove, I grab a knife from the rack and head barefoot and shirtless out the back door. All my nerves are on edge, and every few feet I stop and listen for any sign of movement.

Passing the empty gazebo, I round the outer edge of the pond. On the far side, I look back at the house. All the lights are off, and I see no movement. Can it have been an animal? It’s possible, but I don’t think so. Who the hell would be out here at this hour?

When I reach the spot, no one is here. The only thing stirring is the mist, blanketing the ground. It’s thick enough to cover my feet.

Something compels me to keep looking. My hand tightens on the large knife when I hear a faint sound.

A shiver races down my spine when I hear it again—a slight scrape and a gurgle. That makes no sense, and right about now, I wish I had the foresight to bring a flashlight. I’ve stalked countless victims over the last few years. And rule number one is always: Go prepared. Whoever has lured me out here knows that I’m at my most vulnerable. I’m not in my element. I’m walking headfirst into theirs.

Fuck.

The mysterious noise is coming from the mausoleum. I haven’t visited since the day I killed my father.

The breeze picks up, the leaves rustle, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up, but I don’t hesitate. If someone is out here, they can come at me. I’m ready.

The moonlight cuts through the treetops, illuminating the stairs that lead up to the gothic stone structure. Something is on the path. It’s not until I’m right on top of it that I realize it’s a person. Rob.

Uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach as I stare down at the body. My brother isn’t moving, but it is his positioning that gives me pause.

Same location.

His twisted and broken legs—same.

The pool of blood under his body.

The cut on his head and the way it rests on the bottom step is the same.

The only difference—Rob’s right hand is over his heart.

What the fuck? How is this possible?

Rob twitches and makes a gurgling sound. He’s still alive. I dart to his side and drop to my knees.

“Rob?”

His pulse is barely there when I grab his wrist. Phone. I quickly search his pockets to call for help, but his cell is missing.