"I. . .just thought that I should clean up in my room."

"Why?" he asked.

"Why not?" She took a step out of the doorway.

The movement caught him off guard. He wrinkled his forehead.

Something is different. Or is it just me? She did just lose her husband. Maybe, she feels weird or even worse. . .guilty. Does she still consider herself married? Is this adultery to her? I wish I could kill Neil again.

"I'll be right back." She headed away.

"Wait."

She stopped and slowly turned around again, laying her hands to the side and clenching her fingers in and out.

What's going on?

He glanced down at her feet. Instead of in a relaxed position, she kept them in a guarded stance-far apart with the heel up on the foot that was closest to me.

It had to be his mind playing tricks on him in some way, because she looked like she was ready to attack.

Something is wrong. What changed? Did I do something? Is it me or Neil's ghost?

"Relax." He backed up to the dresser, set the tray on top, picked up the rose, and brought it to her. "I just wanted to give you this."

Diana didn't even look down at the flower. Instead, she stared at his face, as if she was gazing at him for the first time.

Why is she looking at me like that? Was the s.e.x that good. . .or that bad?

Asher held the rose in front of her.

Yet, still, she just stared at him.

"Diana?"

"What?" She blinked and edged back. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Do you not like roses?" He gestured to the one in his hand.

"I do." She kept her hands to her sides. "I'll enjoy that beautiful . . .gift, after my shower." She inched back some more. "Okay?"

He twisted the rose's stem in his fingers. "Okay."

She walked away, and he watched her every shivering step. Counting each time her foot shook as it hit the ground.

He'd seen many scared women walk away from him. Every time he let a girl go before he killed the man that she was unlucky to be harmed by.

They'd all rushed off on quivering feet.

Just like Diana did in that very moment.

Even his mother had started walking away from him in the same manner. It was after the third husband. She became afraid of him, her own son. After the third husband, even she had had that same rush in her steps, in the times that she feared him.

I don't know what's going on, but things will not change, Diana. Whether it's Neil's ghost or something to do with me, you will be mine for as long as I need you to be.

"Diana!"

She jumped and twisted around, edging back a little and never truly stopping her path away from him. "Y-yes."

He forced himself to smile at her. "Have a good shower."

Diana widened her eyes. "Thanks."

She said nothing else, turned back around, and picked up her pace.

Interesting. She's terrified. Why?

Darkness swarmed in his chest, but he pushed it at bay. There was no need to worry too much with her. They'd made love.

But he could smell her panic in the air.

Something else has to be going on.

This was why he didn't deal with women too much. They were all so complex, each one with their own puzzle and convoluted clues. Before Diana, no women's brain-teasing confusions had been worth him solving. He played their games for a night or two, and then went about his way.

Diana was different.

He'd spend the rest of his life, piecing together every inch of her.

Let's see if I can do my own investigation on Miss Prized Reporter.

She slammed the door behind her, and he walked off to the staircase and headed down to the first floor.

The rose remained in his hand, as he hurried to his closet, put on some pants, and headed to his hidden security room.

It took him no time to get there. Most didn't know it existed, only the house manager and head of security. Neither had the code for the door, and both needed permission to ever review a necessary tape. Too many things occurred in his house, and by his hand. Half of the time, he kept the recording for his own records.

He got to the black, metal door and pressed in his mother's birthday.

A beep sounded, and then a click. The door opened, and he headed in, right as it closed behind him.

Should I even do this? Maybe, I am just a little off. Our minds are the creators of our reality. Diana's anxiety could all be in my head.

Disruptive thoughts plagued his mind.

Eight TV screens stood in front of him. Each one displayed a different part of his property for ten seconds and then shifted to another camera. Every room had a mini-camera in the ceiling. Even more devices were nailed in the trees all over the grounds.

No one would come or leave without him knowing it.

Asher turned on the left control panel, switched the monitor next to him to operator. In this mode, he could focus on one camera's recordings, focus in on the person in the room, or pull back. Additionally, he could rewind and play what had already been recorded.

He found his bedroom's camera and rewound the recording back to several minutes ago.

On the screen, Diana and he lay on the bed, their bodies entangled against each other as they moved together in perfect rhythm. l.u.s.t soared to his groin.

G.o.d, what am I doing? I should be running run up there and taking Diana in the shower.

Her p.u.s.s.y had been heaven. There was no other way for him to say it. No matter how much heavenly words one used to describe that flesh between her legs, none could compare to the raw truth.

Her p.u.s.s.y had been heaven, and he would've been happy to die right there between those moist lips.

He rubbed his face with both of his hands and sighed. "Focus, Asher."

He pressed the fast forward b.u.t.ton to where he'd left Diana by herself. "This is stupid. I should be upstairs in the shower with her, but here I am, being. . .me."

On the screen, a devilish grin spread across Diana's face as she got up from the bed and walked toward her closet.

He quirked an eyebrow. "What was on your mind, Diana?"

She stepped in and scanned the area.

You're such a curious cat. I'm not liking where this is going, Diana.

The closet's light turned on and bathed her in light. All he could see was her back as she continued to enter, moving her head from side to side as she probably took in the ma.s.sive s.p.a.ce.

Dread hit Asher's gut. No one ever went in his closet. Not even his staff.

It was another odd thing about him.

I forgot to tell her not to go in my closet.

All his life, the closet had been a safe haven. When his father beat his mother to a pulp, he would run in there, keeping all of his secret items in the little s.p.a.ce, for when he would need to run away and get help. That was the crazy things that went through his little, innocent mind, as terror rained down around him.

Young Asher had kept a plastic Indian bow and arrow in his closet, just for the occasion to hurt his father.

He'd even used it one night.

At dinner, his father s.n.a.t.c.hed his mother up by her neck and slung the weak woman into the table. Everything crashed around them-dinner fell to the floor. Plates smashed into bits and pieces. Peas and mashed potatoes got all over Asher's sneakers.

"No!" With his tiny feet, he'd ran to his closet, grabbed the brown and green bow, picked up the orange arrows, rushed back to his dad, pulled the bow back, and let go.

The arrow shot through the air, barely poked at his father's back, and then dropped to the floor.

"Ash Tray, was that you?" His father stopped punching his mother in the face and turned to him. "Ash Tray? Get your a.s.s out of here, before I come for you."

Running away, Asher dropped the bow and arrow, ignored the closet, and got back to his other hiding spot under his bed.

Back in reality, Asher pushed that old memory away and watched Diana on the screen as she walked all the way to the back of the closet, flipped back the mirror, and reached her hands inside his secret compartment.

Great job. I go through all the trouble for so many years to be careful, and not get caught, and here I let a prized investigating reporter stumble into my closet right where all of my secrets are.

Asher couldn't see what she was touching, but he knew. He'd been in that closet day after day, gazing at his bow and arrow. He no longer was forced to deal with the plastic toys of his youth. Now he had a real one-high definition and worth more money than an average American's car.

From now on, when he pulled his bow back, his target was. .h.i.t, and there would be no more hurt by any bad man.

"Diana. Diana," Asher whispered as he stared at the screen.

Even in the recording, he could see the fear in her eyes as she rushed out of there. He checked the night stand where her phone still sat.

Good. She's just focusing on getting herself out of here. I don't think she ever grabbed her phone. It definitely wasn't in her hand when she went to the shower.

He put his hand into his pocket, took out his phone, and dialed security.

One of his guards answered, "h.e.l.lo, Mr. Bishop."

"How are you doing, Dwight?" Asher asked.

"Very good, sir."

"I'm having a bit of an uncomfortable situation. Nothing that we really need to worry about in reference to the security of this property, but my guest, Mrs. Carson, however, has taken something that has sort of. . .how do I say this without being inappropriate? Hmm. This substance has altered her mind."

"Okay. I understand."

"So I don't know if you are used to dealing with people who take . . . mind-altering substances, but it can be a bit crazy."

Dwight chuckled. "In this line of security work, especially on Ovid Island, I've dealt with a lot of situations where people have used these substances."

"Good." Asher smiled. "Mrs. Diane Carson has taken something. I'm trying to keep her calm. She's going to take a shower and eat, but there might be a point where the paranoia continues. She may even want to leave the property and try driving a car. We can't have that."

"No, sir."

"I care about this woman. You know there's been no other woman besides my mother that's been able to walk these hallways overnight."

"Yes, sir. The staff have been talking about it all week."

That made Asher uneasy, but he decided to deal with that later. There were too many other things going on.

Deal with it all, one by one. There's only a threat, if I don't handle it. I can handle Diana. I just need time.

"Good," Asher said. "I'm glad I'll have help with keeping Mrs. Carson on the property until she comes down from this crazy trip she's having."

"No problem, sir. You have a good evening."

"You too." Asher hung up the phone and left the security room.