Anxiety coursed through me as Anton wove through New York City traffic toward my high-rise penthouse. I’d become more and more of a wreck as the days passed and I didn’t have any contact with my prize. But I did have something that could take the edge off, if only Anton would do his fucking job and get me home.

My land attorney droned through the speaker phone. “The acreage in the upper basin isn’t for sale. We’ve tried at length to get Mr. Sartain to negotiate with us, but he wants to keep the land and raise sheep. Won’t even talk about splitting up the parcel and selling the wooded parts, and definitely won’t entertain a lease. He’s resolute in his refusal.” His voice shook the slightest bit. Telling me “no” was never a good thing, and like any well-trained dog, he knew the price for disobedience.

“Resolute in his refusal?” I kept my tone even as Anton turned onto Fifth Avenue.

“Yes sir.”

I could imagine the sheen of sweat on the attorney’s pasty brow, the dread in his eyes. “If I’m not mistaken, doesn’t Lindstrom own the tract to the southwest of Mr. Sartain?”

“Yes sir.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and spoke slowly so he could follow. “Is there not a narrow river there flowing from our property to his? The Green Branch?”

“Yes sir.” No clarity, no light bulb going off. Just a dead affirmation from him.

“Would you say, Travis, that he relies on that river to water his sheep?”

“Yes sir. Oh, I see.” Fucking finally. “I’ll make some calls. Surely we can divert the river for a while. I’m not sure if we’ll need permits or what, but—”

“Permits?” I wasn’t entirely sure that I wouldn’t backhand the man if he were sitting in front of me. “Block the fucking river. Starve him out. If he complains, tell him it’s a beaver problem. Tell him it’s the dry season even if it’s pouring rain. Tell him we’re working on it. I don’t care what excuse you use.”

“Yes sir. He’ll file suit over it, though. I just wanted you to know that before we started down this road.”

“Of course I know that!” I took a deep breath as Anton pulled up in front of my building. “His sheep will be dead and gone before he can even get so much as an injunction against us. Cut the water. When he comes to the table, get me a lease on his timber. I want it now, and I want it when the next stand comes of age thirty years from now.”

“Yes sir. I’ll handle it as soon as—”

I clicked off the call and climbed from the car. My doorman greeted me as I hurried past and toward the elevator deck. I felt like a bomb ticking down to its last seconds. The elevator opened, and I used my key to access the penthouse level. Standing close to the silver doors, I sighed with relief when they finally opened onto my living room. The lights of Central Park shone through the night, and the skyscrapers across the way gleamed in the moonlight.

I tossed my jacket and tie on a side chair and turned left, past the kitchen and into what was supposed to be a guest room. Flat screen monitors hummed with soft life, though their screens were black. Sitting down in my leather chair, I tapped a key on the laptop and watched as my obsession came to life.

“Fuck.” She was at Link’s place. A million tiny bugs crawled beneath my skin as I saw them sitting together on his couch, his arm around her shoulders. They were watching a movie, a discarded popcorn bowl sitting on Link’s coffee table. His apartment was easy enough to have wired. A little cash in his super’s palm got my men inside with cameras and microphones. Camille’s cottage near Trenton was even easier.

Was it wrong? Yes. Did I give a shit? No.

I settled in, staring at her as she smiled or laughed at something she saw on screen. She was so expressive, her eyes telling the story for me such that there was no need to watch the movie. I followed along with her emotions, matching my expressions to hers.

For over an hour, I simply stared, immersing myself in her. Ignoring the dolt beside her was easy until he decided to make idiotic sounds with his mouth.

“Why do you do that?” Link paused the movie and grabbed the empty popcorn bowl.

“Do what?” Once free from his grasp, she leaned on the sofa’s arm, finally looking relaxed.

He walked toward the kitchen. “You sort of fidget whenever the bad guy’s on screen.”

“No I don’t.”

I clicked a button so I had them both in view. Grabbing another bag of popcorn, he popped it into the microwave.

“You so do. Remember Avengers? Loki?”

She shrugged. “Not really.”

“You fidgeted then, too. The Joker—I’m talking Heath Ledger and the Jared Leto one. Fidget.”

“No I didn’t.” She turned to glare at him.

“Ramsay Bolton, Game of Thrones? Fidget.”

“Okay, now I know that one’s a lie.” She shook her head. “I wanted him dead just like everyone else.”

“But you fidgeted.”

“Maybe I was itchy.” She turned and settled back into the sofa as the soft pops of the corn tinkled through my speakers.

I leaned forward, touching her image as she denied her attraction to black hats, villains, and demented devils. Her white knight was onto something for once in his useless life. She was made for me, just as I’d been fashioned from the darkest materials for her. Her light would temper my shadow.

“That serial killer in The Fall.”

“Oh, please. Jamie Dornan. That was Jamie Dornan. You were probably fidgeting over him, too.”

He laughed and poured the fresh popcorn in the bowl before strutting back over to her. Because that’s what he was, a strutter. No fucking substance.

Sitting, he flicked the movie back on and crowded her again. She pretended not to mind, but I knew she wanted his touch about as much as I wanted a stint in a padded room.

The rest of the movie went along without incident—until he started kissing her neck. Fire ripped through my mind, setting reason alight and torching my self-control. He ran his hand along her waist then moved up to cup her breast through her shirt.

She rested one hand on his arm and closed her eyes as he kissed her, but she wasn’t there. Not really. She was here with me. His touch was just a placeholder. I told myself that on repeat.

My father had taught me little rhymes when I was a child. They were meant to remind me how to be human when people were watching me or when I felt nervous.

Smile when they smile. It’ll take you miles.

When in doubt, wait it out. Emotions will always show what they’re about.

I hummed the simple singsongs to try and calm my rage. It didn’t seem to be working, not when Link was pushing Camille down onto the couch and covering her with his body.

“”What did I do wrong?” I replayed the conversation I’d had with my grownup neighbor over again in my head. “She was smiling, so I thought maybe I should laugh.” I kicked at the grass as the summer sun beat down on me.

Dad knelt to get to eye level. “I know. Sometimes emotions can be confusing. You have to look for context, Sebastian. The rhymes aren’t enough anymore. People are too complex, and you need to understand the nuances now that you’re older.”

“Like what?” I’d done what I’d been taught. What was the big deal?

He shook his head, his eyes tired. “The nuance of your conversation with Mrs. Penny was that she was discussing her daughter who died last year.”

“And she smiled.” I nodded as vindication welled in me. “So that means I should smile or maybe laugh, right?”

He squeezed my shoulders and squinted his eyes. “No, son. No. She was smiling because she was thinking of a fond memory of Rose. But, the truest emotion, the one beneath the smile, is grief. When someone we love dies, we feel sad.”

“Like when Mom died?” I’d felt more confused than anything. One day, she just didn’t get out of bed. Dad had told me about death, but I didn’t realize it was real. Not until Mom left.

“Yes, like that.” His mouth turned down at the corners, and his eyes watered. I recognized his sadness easily, so why was Mrs. Penny’s so hard to see?

He tilted his head back, then returned his gaze to mine. “You have to look beneath the surface. Find what’s true in a person. See what they need, what they expect from you. That’s what makes you human. Trying to connect. Does that make sense?”

No, not in the least, but I decided to stow away his words until later, when I’d have time to think about them. “I think so.”

“Good.” He stood, his shadow blocking out the sun. “The next time Mrs. Penny mentions Rose—”

“I won’t laugh.”

He patted my shoulder. “That’s a start.”

I stared at Camille, looking for her nuances. She spoke to me, her body, her eyes—all of her. I could read her, no guesswork needed. Perhaps that was what drew me to her in the first place, the way she telegraphed her emotions directly to me, as if we were connected by a thin, invisible wire.

Link was still on top of her, his mouth on hers. I rubbed my sweaty palms down my pants and considered calling him and making up a work issue. Anything to get him away from her. But I didn’t have to. My Camille must have somehow sensed my anger, because she pressed against Link’s shoulders.

He pulled back. “Would you like it better if I was more of a bad guy?” Frustration colored his words.

“Where did that come from?” She looked stricken. “No, of course not. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away?” He kissed her again, still too gently. She didn’t want polite. My Camille wanted the sort of darkness only I could give her.

Link could never be anything other than a moron in a white hat. No matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t be able to save Camille from me, because, in the deep recesses of her heart, she craved me. The fair maiden wanted the monster more than she needed the knight.

She shook her head and pushed on his shoulders again. He sat back and pulled her up so she sat next to him. His back stiffened in what I knew to be anger, but he kept his voice too low for me to hear. I smirked as I thought about how blue his balls must have been.

She crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive movement. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He shifted his hips—and his useless boner—away from her. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

Pussy.

They spoke a little more, then she stood with a resigned air that told me she was leaving for the night. During the few weeks that I’d been watching, I’d been pleasantly surprised each time she refused to sleep with Link. When we’d first met, I’d taken for granted that they were fucking, but I’d been wrong. It was as if Camille knew that she was waiting for me.

He walked her to the door, gave her one final kiss, and then watched her walk away. She would go to her friend Veronica’s apartment. I had it wired right along with everything else. Whenever Camille was in the city, she spent her nights there, so I needed to know what went on.

Link closed the door and leaned against it, then snaked a hand down his pants. He headed toward the living room and opened his laptop. I’d learned he had a particular thing for anime porn. True to form, he opened what seemed to be his all-time favorite wank flick—a big-breasted girl with anime eyes getting gang-banged by several different men. Cartoon bukkake coming right up.

I made a disgusted sound and flicked the screen off before his solo session got into full swing. He was a moron. If I had a girl like Camille, I’d masturbate to her every fucking night. No, actually, if I had a girl like Camille, I’d be eating her pussy like it was a competition and then shoving my cock deep inside her every chance I got.

I popped a Tums.

Link couldn’t close the deal because he wasn’t right for my girl. And so he was destined to spend his nights jerking it to cartoon characters while I fantasized about how perfect Camille would feel on my cock.