I glance at my agenda and sigh. The day is nearly over and yet I feel like I haven’t gotten a damn thing done. I’ve been feeling like this ever since Aria came into my life, but I know it’s not her fault. I’m just distracted by her.

Last night, I fell asleep in her bed. I told myself I wasn’t going to do that, but it happened. When I heard her screaming, I thought something horrible was happening.

Instead, I ended up opening up about my life. I never talk about my father, not with anyone. It’s not that I’m ashamed, or not exactly, but I just can’t stand people feeling any sort of pity for me. I survived it and got the fuck out of there, and that’s all I care about.

I still speak with my mother maybe once a month. I paid off their house, despite my father asking me not to, and bought them a new car. But that’s the extent of it. I’d give them more, take care of them for life only because they’re my parents, but my father made it clear that he doesn’t want my help.

Too proud or too stupid, I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m moving on past all of this.

But I understand what Aria is going through. I used to dream of my father and the beatings he’d give me, all for my own good, all because he wanted me to toughen up. Of course, he was beating on a fourteen-year-old boy, but that didn’t matter to him. I was a sissy because I was good with computers and I was smart, and no son of his was going to be a sissy.

As soon as I turned sixteen and hit a growth spurt, the beatings stopped. Mostly because I got big enough to fight back and defend myself. He didn’t want to risk getting hurt. But the emotional abuse never stopped, not until the day I left that house and never looked back.

I’m not a weak man. I don’t let that shit define me or hold me back. I’m not some fucking victim. But I can’t pretend like it didn’t happen. I was just a kid and I didn’t know any better. I shouldn’t be ashamed of it.

And I’m not, not exactly at least. I mostly just don’t want people defining me by my past. Everything I’ve accomplished since then is so much more important to me, and I don’t want to become the abused kid that made it big.

Maybe it was dangerous to tell Aria that story. She could easily turn around and sell it to some tabloid. The Syndicate would probably have something to say about that, but that wouldn’t really stop her, not if she was really determined. She could make a nice chunk of money and disappear.

But I know she wouldn’t do that. What she told me last night was real, very real. She couldn’t fake the screaming or the emotion that I saw plainly on her face. She understands what I went through, just like I understand what she went through, and I know she’d never betray my trust. Just like I’d never betray hers.

The unspoken bond between us sends strange shivers down my spine. I never imagined feeling... whatever this is. It’s an attachment, that’s for sure, a very powerful bond that I don’t entirely understand yet. There’s so much between us already, and we have so much in common, that I can barely believe it.

My secretary buzzes my phone suddenly, snapping me out of my haze. I hit a button. “Yes?” I ask, getting myself back into the moment.

“Richard Taylor on line two,” she says.

I pause. “Thanks,” I say, before picking up the phone and hitting a button. “Richard,” I say. “Hello.”

“How are you doing, Ethan?”

I pause, wondering how to proceed. Do I pretend like the blackmail never happened?

“I’m fine,” I say.

“Have you thought about our last conversation?”

There it is. I was waiting for that. I wonder how direct he’ll be over the phone.

“I have,” I say.

“And?”

“And it doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice in this situation, does it?”

“No,” he says, and I can hear the joy in his voice. “That’s the point though, of course.”

“Send over your next round of contracts.”

“I will. I’ll be reasonable, Ethan. I’ll go easy on you.”

“For both our sakes, Richard. Remember, you need this deal as much as I do.”

“That’s true,” he says, laughing. “That’s very true. Well, I’m glad you came to your senses. We’re both going to be rich and happy men soon.”

“I suspect you’ll be richer and happier,” I say.

“Of course. That’s the game, isn’t it?” He laughs and then hangs up the phone.

I stare at my receiver before hanging it back up. I feel fucking sick to my stomach all of a sudden, and although I have more work to do, I know I’m done for the day. It’s around five anyway, and there’s no shame in leaving at a normal time for once. I’ll go home, check on Aria, eat something, and then work from my home office for a few more hours.

With that plan in mind, I stand up and head out, trying to shake the sinking feeling I have in my stomach. Richard Taylor has me over a fucking barrel, and he’s going to take advantage of this. People are going to wonder why I took this fucking deal when inevitably I do, and it’s going to look very bad. This is a losing situation for me, and I have to find some way out of it.

The car gets me home quickly and I’m optimistic as I climb out and head up the stoop. I’ve been ignoring this Richard thing, or at least I’ve been trying to. I’ve been using Aria to help distract me from the fucked up shit that’s happening all around me, and she’s been doing a damn good job.

But as soon as I open the door, I know something’s up. The house is normally quiet, and usually Jenkins is there immediately to greet me. Instead, I hear hushed voices coming from the kitchen, and there’s nobody around.

I don’t mind if they’re busy. That’s fine. Hell, I don’t even care if they’re just standing around and chatting and didn’t know I was coming in. But that just never happens. Jenkins is always on top of things, probably because the driver normally calls ahead. This time though, as I walk down the hall and into the great room, I know something is amiss.

Jenkins is standing in the kitchen with a tall, thin, striking woman, maybe in her late forties. She has black hair pulled back in a tight bun and her red lipstick makes her pale skin that much more intense. She wears a loose black dress and her eyes flit to mine as soon as I’m in the room.

Jenkins, for his part, looks utterly embarrassed. “Sir,” he says quickly, rushing toward me. “I’m so sorry. I was distracted by this, this woman.”

“It’s okay, Jenkins,” I say. “But who is she?”

“Ethan Locks,” the woman says, speaking over Jenkins and walking toward me with her hand extended. “My name is Lucille and I’m with The Syndicate. We need to talk.”

I take her hand and shake, but the world feels like it dips and disappears around me.

I knew The Syndicate would come and check on Aria, but they assured me it would be discreet. They said they wouldn’t even be seen or noticed by me or anyone in my staff. They assured me that they’re professionals, and that they do this all the time.

If this woman is from The Syndicate and she’s here, in my home, speaking with my butler, then something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. She shouldn’t be here.

I feel like the world is spinning around me as fear for Aria spikes through my body.