Josephine reminded herself to add ‘psychic’ to the list of other careers that Clara could hold when her phone rang on Monday morning.

“Hi, this is Josephine,” she answered softly. Stationed in the corner of a cozy cafe, she strained to hear the person on the other line.

“Ms. Baxter?” a nasally drawl asked.

She frowned. “Yes, this is she.”

“Oh, good,” the caller responded and she couldn’t help thinking that he sounded like an elderly man. She couldn’t remember giving her contact information to an older gentleman lately, so she racked her brains for who he might be. Maybe a source?

“How can I help you?” she asked, watching a barista as she stocked cups on the counter.

“My name is Robert,” he said in a chipper voice. “My employer would like to set up a meeting with you. Can I send a car to you now?”

Her gaze darted down to her tight yoga pants and old top from a college club.

“Um, can it be in an hour or two?” she asked, cursing herself for not washing her hair this morning.

“Lovely. I’ll send a car to your address in two hours. Thank you, Ms. Baxter. My employer looks forward to meeting you.” There was a small pause. “Be advised that some people find him abrasive on the first meeting. He means well.”

The call ended. She stared at the phone in her hand, hovering dangerously above her half-drained mocha latte. Was this actually happening?

Clara squealed on the phone as Josephine jogged all the way back to her apartment.

“I knew it!” she cried victoriously. Josephine hopped into the elevator, cradling her phone next to her ear, as she tried to think of what was clean in her closet.

“Should I wear the black dress? Or is it too tight?” she asked while chewing on her lip. Clara giggled wildly.

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard you worried about your outfit,” she commented. “You should wear the forest green one. It looks great with your hair. He’ll want to hire you and screw you.”

Josephine nearly choked. “Clara! This is a job!”

“Business and pleasure is the way to go.”

It was hard to think about anything but business as she got ready. She flew into a hot shower to scrub her finest soap all over herself. For her hair, she pulled out her finest hair products. The green dress in her closet was miraculously free of wrinkles. She pulled it on with a pair of plain black pumps and rushed to her vanity to dust on some makeup.

By the time the car arrived, she’d groomed every inch of herself and managed to arrange a makeshift portfolio of her work to show Williams. When she glanced at her reflection, immaculate and clutching all of her hard work, she smiled. It was breakthroughs like this that got research for ground-breaking books started.

She was already imagining makeshift titles and debating on footnotes or endnotes when the car rolled up to her apartment. It was a sleek town car, an elegant staple that she was used to seeing in movies lampooning the rich. But, here she was, about to slide inside on imported leather seats. A chauffeur with a shock of silver hair underneath his cap got out of the car. She nearly squeaked at his size. He was massive.

His towering frame sidled up beside her.

“Evening, Ms. Baxter. I’m Leo. Robert has sent me to retrieve you for our employer. Are you ready?” He asked. His smile was surprisingly friendly as she craned her neck to look up at him.

“Um, yes,” she muttered and got in when he opened the door. His head nearly touched the roof when he got into the driver’s seat. She couldn’t help the remark that flew out of her mouth.

“You’re as tall as a bear!”

His only reply was the loudest series of laughs that she’d ever heard. They shook the car. He was nearly crying when they pulled away from the curb.

“That was rude,” she moaned into her hands. He cackled in the front.

“Not at all,” he muttered with an amused look at her through the rear view mirror. “You’re right about that.” His answer simmered with a hidden meaning that she couldn’t understand. She felt the warmth in her cheeks for the whole ride as she repeated apologies and he waved them off. Finally, she remembered their destination and stared at the portfolio in her lap.

“Leo, Is Mr. Williams easy to work with?” she asked. The chauffeur shrugged his massive shoulders.

“I suppose that depends on who you are. For a pretty thing like you, I imagine he’ll be awful sweet,” he said with a knowing wink. “But, he is particular. When he hires someone to do a job, he wants it done in a very specific way. He also demands a certain...privacy that some may find on the paranoid side.”

She nodded in silence. They drove for what seemed like hours before Leo glided down a lonely immaculate street that led into rolling hills. She admired the scenery as it passed, feeling the nerves in her stomach grow as the car manoeuvred through the green landscape. Finally, a magnificent house arose in the distance. A gasp escaped her before she could stifle it.

“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “Mr. Williams likes to escape to his country home for weeks on end. When you work for him, he can meet you at his townhome in the city.”

When she worked for him. She bit her lip. It seemed as if her position had already been decided, but her mother always told her to never get her hopes up. She smoothed her skirt as they approached the massive stone mansion. It almost seemed as if someone had transported a modest European castle to the outskirts of an American city.

As they went through the gate, she noted an emblem of a crescent moon on the wrought iron center.

“Midnight Den,” she whispered to herself.

“What was that?” Leo asked.

She cleared her throat. “Sorry, I was just talking to myself.”

As they approached, she noted two men in black suits with earpieces walking throughout the property.

“Do I need to get out my ID?” she asked Leo as she eyed the towering figures.

“No, no,” he said with a chuckle. “Mr. Williams is often contracted by the military for various projects. Every man in his family served at one point, and then they transition into contract work. I wish I could tell you more, but even I don’t know. But no worries, the security is fielding terrorist intelligence, not historians.”

They parked in front of the house in a horseshoe driveway that was paved with polished cobblestones. Her heels clicked against them as he led her up to the house. The same crescent moon was carved into the doors. Her heart skipped a beat when he led her into a lounge to wait.

“My employer will be with your shortly,” he explained with a small bow. “Robert will be by with some refreshments.”

She settled into the plush chair as his footsteps faded. While she admired a painting above the mantle, someone strode in.

“Do you take cream in your coffee, Ms. Baxter?” The casual drawl made her jump.

A handsome older man with a thin scar down one side of his face stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a suit, looking as if he’d stepped from a storybook as the butler.

“Are you Robert?” she asked.

“I certainly am,” he answered smoothly. “Is that a ‘no’ to the coffee?”

“Oh, please! Black is fine, thank you.”

He nodded.

“My employer will be here shortly. I’ll bring the refreshments up shortly.”

She stared off into space after he left, feeling pinpricks of anxiety all over her body. It was odd. All of Roman’s employees had called him “my employer” for the most part. It seemed odd that they wouldn’t address him as Mr. Williams. Her mind churned. She clutched the portfolio close to her chest, suddenly feeling bashful that a slit of her cleavage was showing beneath her thin gold necklace.

Who exactly was Roman Williams?

And why did meeting him feel like being introduced to royalty?

“Josephine.”

A deep voice shocked her from her thoughts, the second time someone had snuck up on her. She jumped and whirled around. There was another entrance that she hadn’t noticed. From beyond the stranger’s shoulders, she could see that it was attached to a study. Her eyes came into focus on the body standing in the arched doorway.

She inhaled sharply as his glittering gray eyes came into focus. His broad frame shifted beneath his sharp suit and a devilish smile spread across his face, rendering him both dashing and terrifying.

“My name is Roman Williams,” he introduced in a velvety soft voice. “I only have one question before we begin. Are you afraid of the dark?”