As far as reassurances go, that one didn’t do much for me. I doubt it would have done anything for anyone, not when it was uttered in Mr. Ward’s cool, emotionless voice and he was barely looking at me, already turning away. A few hours ago, before setting foot in his mansion as a guest of Miss Delilah—his sister and my boss—for his birthday bash, all I’d known of Morgan Ward was his voice, which I had heard on the phone a few times, and the gossip I’d read on blogs and in newspapers. Now, I knew a lot more. I knew how dark his eyes were: darker than endless wells. I knew something was different about him. Not different like a reclusive millionaire bachelor can be, but different in a not quite natural way. Not quite human maybe, but I had a hard time wrapping my mind around that idea even after seeing him and Miss Delilah move with speed that should have been impossible. I also knew how soft his skin was, the feel of his lips on mine, and the way he moved when he made love.
