by Lilly Cain
“Let’s talk about the mountain resort.” He leaned back in his chair, clearly relaxed when she was anything but. What was his game?
“Okay, tell me what you have in mind.”
She listened while he talked. He was definitely smart enough to create a plan that would make them a lot of money. Just like the one they were about to embark on together. If she made it that far. How long could she keep up the charade? She was already feeling the pressure of her absences from work and the change was growing worse.
The change. How else could she think of it but as the change? There was her life before the Rom, and her life after. Her changed life.
Every month it got worse. First her eyes, then her reaction to silver, the heightened senses, and now her impossible-to-fight attraction to a man who was basically a stranger. What would happen next? And of course none of this compared to what caused her monthly absences from work. That change was something she wouldn’t bring herself to think about.
David pulled out a set of documents from his briefcase. The papers detailing his ideas on the mountain resort were very preliminary. It was something much more like a retreat, far from everything and high on a mountain that his family had owned a large portion of for generations. On the very far edge of the state, the low mountain seemed like a haven. A place far from the world. She’d have to start thinking about how far away she’d need to go this month. Where she could go. Her last hideaway was unavailable now, preparing for the summer season and filled with caretakers. Soon there would be campers both young and old; the Lakeside Campground was the last place she could hide.
“Is there a direct road to the proposed development?”
David seemed surprised at her interjection. “Yes, but not much of one. There’s an old logging road that we sometimes use. Last time I was up there was with some surveyors to review the borders. That was eight months ago.”
“So your family doesn’t use this property at all anymore?”
“No, although there is an old hunting cabin my dad used to use. He passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry. It’s pretty far from any major city or airport.” She considered the ramifications of that. Possibly good for her, probably bad for any development.
“That’s the point. It’s pristine. People will go so they can experience wildlife and a natural setting but with every comfort a spa can provide.” He grinned.
“Wildlife? What kind of wildlife?” She toyed with her fork. Maybe that was too far away, two wild.
“The usual—deer, rabbits, coyotes, bears, maybe wolves.” He was looking at her strangely. It wasn’t that unusual question, who wouldn’t be concerned or interested with the wildlife? The idea of deer and rabbits sounded interesting…
“Helen… Your eyes…”
She clenched the fork in her hand hard and stared at him. What was wrong with her eyes now?
“Your eyes are glowing.”
She dropped the fork stood and gathered her purse. “Yes, the sun is right in my eyes. And I really need to get going. It’s been lovely, thank you. When you have a more formal report I’d like to hear about this resort again. And of course I’ll be waiting for the usage report on the initial development. Perhaps we can meet next week.”
* * *
She was gone again and this time he didn’t stop her. Maybe that was a good thing. What had he just seen? A trick of the light? He gathered his papers from the table. She seemed interested in his new idea. Hell, who wouldn’t be? It was a good one. Taking her to brunch had been a good idea, hadn’t it? She’d certainly been hungry, putting away a huge plate of the brunch buffet. He enjoyed a woman who ate when they were hungry, rather than picking away at some salad because they thought they had to look concerned with their weight at all times. But then, her eyes... No way that was the sun in her eyes, was it? They were beside the window, but...
He picked up the last paper and glanced at her place setting. Slowly, he reached over and picked up her fork. He sat back in his chair stared at the utensil. After a moment he glanced around and carefully put it in his pocket. Unlike the other utensils at their table, it was noticeably twisted and now bore the distinct imprints of fingers.
* * *
Would this day never end? Helen signed off on yet another report. The pile had been steadily growing for the last nine hours she’d been in the office. Catching up was going to kill her. The words were blurring together, although she felt good about her progress. Maybe it was simply time to quit and go home.
But what was waiting for her there? Nothing. How had she never noticed how empty her apartment felt? She had no family and only the memories of her father driving her to succeed at work. What did that even matter now? Why had she thought beating his expectations mattered years after he died? Her problems were a hell of a lot worse than that now. Once, her father had pushed her because she wasn’t the son he’d wanted. He’d never been satisfied. But because her mother had died when she was only a child, he’d been all she had. And pleasing him had become more than a challenge, it had become an obsession.
Now her problems were somewhere in the vicinity of the moon, if you put the difference between expectations from an overbearing parent on one end of a scale and measured the distance to her current issue: her body changing with the coming of the moon. She wasn’t even human anymore, so what did it matter that she wasn’t a man, wasn’t a son to a man who was dead and gone?
She signed off on her computer and stretched in her chair. There were no friends to worry about either, not really. She had no time for friends and work associates didn’t count. What could they bring her when her only goal was to climb the corporate ladder higher and higher? She stood and walked to the door and slapped the light off as she crossed the threshold. The office was deserted. She had sent Sherry and Taryn home long ago. Sherry had a family and Taryn…well, the woman had more boyfriends than you could count. It was probably date night.
It was something Helen could almost envy. Almost, because the men never seemed to stay very long. Taryn’s choice, apparently. Helen would prefer something, someone, who stuck around. Someone she could count on. She walked to the elevator and pressed the button. There were a few lights on in some of the junior offices. Keeners working hard to get ahead, just like she had. Her last boyfriend, if she could call him that, had been just like them—just like her. She couldn’t say when she’d spoken to him last. Apparently it hadn’t mattered that much to either of them.
Good God, she was pathetic. Thinking about all this when she only had two weeks left before she’d have to run again. What would a boyfriend matter then? No one could help her. When she had first understood what the Rom had done to her, she’d been furious. She still was. She didn’t deserve it. All she’d done was her job.
They had made her into something out of a horror story. Some days, it seemed like she’d lost her mind, that stress had taken its toll and she’d gone off the deep end. Had she ever in her life believed that magic was real? That the moon could change her reality into something completely other? That she’d look at the glowing ball hanging in the night sky and howl…and like it?
The elevator took her to the parking level and she waved to the attendant before she walked to her SUV. She’d always preferred to drive herself, even after she could afford a driver. One man had called her a control freak and maybe that was true. But now driving was one of the few things she could still control in her life.
In minutes she was at her apartment parking lot. She parked in her spot and shut off the engine but couldn’t bring herself to get out. Her arms and legs weighed tons and her head ached. A hot bath sounded perfect but getting out of the SUV and going up to the apartment seemed like a lot of effort.
“This is not good. You’re getting weaker, Helen. Isn’t that what Dad would say? You’re weak?” As always, the voice of her father drove her into action. She would get through this. She had two weeks. And a plan. She got out of the vehicle and made her way to the lobby
. No way was she letting go of everything she’d achieved. She’d get caught up at work and then she’d use the excuse of checking out the mountain David owned for possible development to get away. That would take care of this month’s change.
Her step faltered. And next month? She lifted her head and strode on toward the elevator. Before next month, she’d find those damn Gypsies. She had to.
“Package for you, Miss Mathews,” the apartment doorman called out to her.
Helen detoured to the main desk and forced a smile. “Thanks, Ed. I wasn’t expecting anything.”
The doorman shrugged and offered her package about a foot square in size, wrapped in brown paper and covered in stamps. She took it, thanked him, and headed for the elevator again. The box was light but then everything seemed to be these days. She couldn’t quite get used to the change in her strength, although it was nice to be able to handle things with ease that she might have struggled with a few months ago.
She fished the keys from her purse and walked from the elevator to her apartment, one of the two penthouses. She put the box on the side table and headed straight for the bar. Wine didn’t do much for her anymore but she still enjoyed the taste, maybe more so now. Every flavor was enhanced and she enjoyed the minor notes of the wine as well as any connoisseur. If land development didn’t work out, she could go into business as a taster. She poured a glass of red and chuckled at the thought. What would her father think if she spent every day tasting luscious wines owned by rich men and women?
He’d be furious, that’s for sure. He’d say that she was wasting her life. She lost her amusement. Work was always more important than enjoyment; power preferable to pleasure.
She looked around her apartment. Everything was perfect. And empty. She’d fallen right in with his plans for her, always wanting to please him. And now he was gone, she’d kept going, his voice still in her mind, still pushing. She really didn’t know anything else.
On Monday, it was like the dam had broken in the office. She stood in front of the espresso machine in the coffee room and listened to the buzz. Everyone had waited for her to reveal what she had been doing over the last few months, jetting away from work without a word to anyone. Now the waiting had stopped and since she hadn’t been forthcoming, the questions had begun. She had her excuses ready; her cover story about investigating David Sherman’s propositions from different vantage points prepared in detail. Some people accepted it and moved on. After all, everyone knew she was work centric.
Sherry and Taryn clearly didn’t buy her story. The looks they gave her were doubtful at best. But they didn’t push and for that she was grateful. On the other hand, she wasn’t totally prepared after all, when her boss arrived at her office door and leaned against the frame, sporting the same skeptical look.
“Look, Helen, I think you know what I’m here to say. If you’re getting ready to move on, if you’re researching other firms or deals that won’t involve Multoma, I need you to be clear about it up front. Word is getting around and it doesn’t look good for us or you.”
Helen stood. “Mr. Winfield, I’m not planning on moving on. I like my position here very much. I’ve simply been investigating —”
“Don’t give me that, Helen. Sherman’s proposals don’t require trips out of state. Yes, I know you left the state. I know a lot about what goes on around here.” He straightened up and stepped inside her office. “If it’s something else, if you need someone to talk to… Things haven’t been right since the award night. Is it about the hospital deal? Did something happen that wasn’t legal? The way that woman pursued us legally and then just let things go…”
“No.” Helen came around her desk, her heart pounding. “No. Everything I did was perfectly legal. We bought the rights to that land and we gave it a use that will help all the people in the city. The Gypsies dropped the case because they didn’t have a leg to stand on.”
“Gypsies—so the lawyer who caused all the fuss was part of that group. That old woman, she was the lawyer.”
Winfield was too sharp. His mind was clicking along making connections she couldn’t afford him to think on too long. Her claims aside, he’d soon be sure she was doing something the company wouldn’t want to be involved with. She would not lose this job. She’d fought too hard to get it. She ground her teeth together.
Winfield took a step back. He was staring at her. Goddammit! Was it her eyes again? This was so not good. She turned away. “Look, Mr. Winfield, I’ve worked hard for this company, hard for you. I’m not about to jeopardize what I’ve achieved here—what we’ve achieved here. I’ve got some things going on but it’ll all be sorted out soon.” It had to be.
“Maybe you should take some time off. Get things sorted out sooner rather than later.”
She turned back to him. “Maybe I should. I’ve got some work to do but then I’ll take my leave for a few weeks. I’ll get the Sherman deal closed first.”
Winfield took another step back. He was already past the threshold. “Take all the time you need.” He quietly shut the door.
She stood there and stared at the enameled wood panel for several minutes. If she didn’t stop the change from happening soon, she could kiss her life goodbye.
5
What the hell was he doing, sitting outside her apartment like a stalker? People got arrested for crap like this. He had to be out of his mind. He fingered the fork in his jacket pocket, the one he brought with him everywhere the one Helen had warped and twisted with the simple clenching of her fist. Nope, he wasn’t crazy. At least not for thinking they were something really wrong going on. For getting involved? For that, he might be crazy. He should just move on work with another developer, but Multoma was the best and he couldn’t quite bring himself to request a different representative—that would ruin her career. And what if he was wrong?
He spotted her car pulling in. He waited a couple of minutes then got out of his car and walked into the lobby. The doorman looked at him, clearly about to question his appearance when Helen stepped out of the parking elevator. “Helen,” he called to her. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He walked closer. He had to keep this normal, friendly, or she’d have the doorman call the cops.
Her eyebrows lifted as she recognized him, but she kept her poise. “What are you doing here, Mr. Sherman? This is quite inappropriate.”
He took her by the elbow and whispered, “We need to talk.” She tried to shake him off but he held on. “I don’t think you really want to make a scene, do you?”
She glared at him but it was definitely time to find out what was going on. Finally she nodded and waved off the doorman. David followed her into the second elevator that ran to the apartments. As soon as the doors closed she yanked her elbow from his grip.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I will not be manhandled.”
He stepped up close to her, getting in her face. “I want to know what’s going on. And you’re going to tell me.”
She snarled and gave him a shove, dead in the center of his chest. He stumbled backward. She was a lot stronger than she looked, but then, he knew that. He hadn’t expected her to be so aggressive. His heart leaped in his chest and he smiled. It was damned exciting. She looked amazing, just a little bit angry and seriously sexy.
“You don’t really want to know.” Her chest heaved, and her lips trembled.
“I’ve got to know. My business is my life and I can’t get involved with your company without knowing what the hell is going on with you.” He took a step closer.
“You wouldn’t believe me.” Her voice held the slightest quaver. She was on the edge of telling him; he could see it in her eyes—those beautiful golden eyes.
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. She glanced at the doors but didn’t move. He reached out and touched her shoulder gently. “You can trust me.” Maybe it was the whole thing about seeing a woman in trouble, but whatever she had to say he was going to listen and he was going to help her.
Mutely, Helen walked out of the elevator and approached one of the apartment doors. It was a short corridor with only four apartment doorways. Hers was the first on the left. She frowned at the obviously new addition—a handprint scanner as part of a security system—and his pulse quickened. She’d added security recently, and wasn’t happy about it. She laid her palm on the scanner and when it beeped admission, pulled out a key and unlocked the door. Inside, there was a chain lock and two bolts, one high up on the door. Far more security than you would need in this part of town.
Not a good sign.
She walked to a small bar, laid her purse down, and dropped her briefcase. Her hands shook slightly as she poured two fingers of brandy into an uncut glass. She took a long drink.
“Mind if I have a drink?” She seemed to have forgotten he was there and startled at his voice.
She pulled back her shoulders, straightening. Maybe she was going to change her mind about talking to him. But she poured him a drink and handed it to him before pouring herself another.
“Have a seat.” She gestured to the small seating area near the windows overlooking the city. She walked to the chair nearest the window and dropped onto the cushion.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you or what you think is happening. Yes, I’ve been out of town recently. I’ve been to see family and I’ve been away checking on different projects. And none of it is your business.”
So, she was going to try to put him off again. He took a sip of the brandy. It was the good stuff, rich with deep tones. It heated his throat while he thought about what to say next. How he handled the next few minutes could make or break their partnership and would either get him the truth or get him thrown out.
“I can’t begin a partnership with lies, Helen. And you are lying. We both know it. Your secretary’s been covering for you, but she doesn’t know where you’ve been.” He toyed with his glass. Maybe another angle here. “She cares about you. So does your receptionist and both of them are worried.”