Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
My phone alerts me to an incoming email just as I pick up another file. Reaching for it, I see Cressida’s name on the screen.
Hello, Soren.
I appreciate very much that you have granted me an interview. What is your one condition?
Please let me know at your earliest convenience.
From,
Your Stalker
I can’t help but smirk at her response.
Sitting back, I type a reply.
Miss Knight,
Thank you for your prompt response. It’s appreciated.
The one condition is that you accompany me to an event first, this time with an invite, since we both know how you like to sneak into them.
From,
The Man You Stalk
P.S. Thanks for admitting that you are a stalker.
Cressida has a way of getting into events without being invited. It’s probably one of the reasons she’s so good at her job. She’s even managed to get into one of the Forsaken’s wive’s parties, which is an event where wives are only invited, which is different to the girfriend parties where members bring a woman and are free to share her if that’s what they wish. And a lot of them do.
There are only three members who don’t do that—myself, Reon, and Arlo. The idea of sharing doesn’t appeal to me. Reon isn’t the type to share, even more so now that he’s happily married and in love with his wife. And Arlo hasn’t taken part in the sharing at the girlfriend parties since before he met Cora.
We established a rule a long time ago that states if you aren’t married by the age of thirty, the Society will honorably assist you in finding a wife. Though I am well past thirty now, I remain unmarried and have no plans to change that anytime soon. Maybe someday I’ll do it just so I’m following rules set in motion by me, or perhaps I won’t. One of the perks of being the Lord is that I can get away with skirting the rules, unlike a regular member.
Members of the Forsaken come from various backgrounds—some are from prominent families, some have valuable connections, but most have a lot of money and fucked-up tendencies.
I am the Lord because I am Forsaken royalty. My great-grandfather was a Lord. After him, leadership passed to someone who wasn’t blood-related, but eventually it came back to me, where it will stay until I die.
FIVE
CRESSIDA
Case Notes
I guess this one I don’t have to sneak into.
He wants me to go to an event. It takes me a day to form a reply, and I read it several times before sending it.
Good afternoon, Soren,
I apologize for the delay in responding; work has been busy.
I would be happy to accompany you to an event in exchange for your story.
Thank you again.
No longer your stalker thanks to your invite.
I’ve snuck into several parties, and now he’s inviting me to one. There has to be some catch to this. He would never willingly take me to an event, especially knowing how hard I’ve been digging into him.
Less than two minutes after I sent the message to Soren, I receive a response. I power down my work laptop, grab my coat and bag, and head out.
Answer your phone.
Then my phone rings, the call coming from a private number. I get a lot of calls from private numbers, tips, and similar information for stories from people who wish to remain anonymous. Pressing accept, I hear his low and smoky voice echo through the phone, sending shivers racing all over my body when he says my name.
“Cressida Knight.”
“Soren Nixon.”
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Ready?” I question, confused as I hail a cab in front of my office building. When one pulls up, I climb in and cover the mic, I rattle off my address before I turn my attention back to Soren. “Ready for what?”
“I’m standing outside your house. Are you ready?”
“A-Are you joking?” I stammer as the driver navigates through the traffic.
“Do you think I’m the type of man who jokes, Miss Knight?”
“Well, no, but who doesn’t give a woman notice before showing up at her door and expecting her to be ready to go somewhere when she didn’t even know the date and time?”
“I’m giving you notice right now as I stand here waiting for you.” Then he hangs up on me.
For fuck’s sake.
What an asshole!
Noting where we are, I realize we’re still more than ten minutes away from my house, and that’s if the traffic cooperates. My leg bounces anxiously as I stare out the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of light and motion, silently urging the driver to go faster. The hum of the engine and the flicker of passing traffic do nothing to calm the storm twisting in my stomach.
The traffic isn’t too bad, and when we reach my street, my pulse spikes. He’s there. Leaning against the building in his pristine suit, head bent toward his phone. When his gray eyes lift and lock on me as I push open the cab door, the rest of the world seems to fade away. His gaze rakes over me, slowly and deliberately, and I swear the air thickens between us.