And in New York City, apartments are do or die.
As I climb to the crest of the hill, I feel the true weight of my decision settling on my shoulders. In my fantasies, my perfect man was never Henry. It was the quiet librarian at the New York Public Library that I’ve never talked to before. Or it was the stunning, gentlemanly man who’d helped me catch the taxi that almost drove off with my purse. When you don’t know the man, you can make up any personality you want. Henry doesn’t have many of the qualities of the perfect man.
Of my perfect man.
He’s arrogant, brash, and rude to waiters. But he tips generously anyway. Though I’m not sure if that’s because he is generous, or if he likes to flash his money. An investor and entrepreneur, Henry built up his empire in his early twenties. I’ve been there since the beginning, and we were close at first. But the more successful he became, the more he changed.
The sun is warm on my bare shoulders and the air smells faintly of freshly mown grass and lavender. Behind me, I can hear the sounds of the wedding, conversation, laughter, the tinkling of music. Henry footed the entire bill, with a few contributions from me. As a librarian at an inner-city high school, my salary would never have colored this extravagant affair. But it’s what Henry wanted. And, I’ll admit, it does feel like a fairytale. But I’m not sure if Henry is my prince.
Suddenly, the breeze picks up considerably, sending a chill through me. I wrap my arms around myself, bouquet in hand. The leaves in the nearby oak trees rustle loudly. It sounds like whispering.
I sigh and turn away from the mansion, facing instead towards the city. I can’t see New York from here, but I can imagine it. The gentle park and woods here are so different from the hustle and bustle of the city. A cloud passes over the sun, casting a long shadow over me.
A dark shadow.
I toss the bouquet between my hands. Maybe the sudden change in the weather is a bad omen, a sign that I shouldn’t go through with this. I’ll feel terrible if I bail on Henry. My family will still be in trouble if I do, and he’ll probably resent me for the rest of our lives. I don’t want to think about what a man with his kind of money could do if I made him angry.
Tara will be here soon to escort me to the ceremony. I never thought getting married would be so difficult for me. The shadow over me stretches forward and swirls. Odd for a cloud. I look up and see blue sky above me, and then black closing in on me.
Fear grips my gut as a giant, black creature descends from the sky. Its wings stretch out impossibly long, as wide as the hill. And it reaches out a clawed bird’s foot towards me. A scream lodges in my throat as I look into its eyes.
Hazel eyes set into a panther’s face.
I’m hallucinating. The stress and pressure of the wedding has finally gotten to me and my brain is responding by creating a hallucination of a monster. That has to be it.
Because monsters aren’t real.
Something like this can’t be real.
I stumble backwards, tripping over the tulle of my gown. One of my sparkling heels falls off, but I don’t reach for it because the monster is close. In seconds, that clawed foot is wrapped around me, squeezing me tightly. Finally, the scream frees itself from my throat and shatters through the silence. I drop my bouquet as the ground falls away. When I’m high over the tree line, supported only by the beast’s foot, I let my fear overtake me.
Darkness claims me.
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Chapter One
Daphne
“Mm-hmm,” Vania said through a mouthful of avocado toast, crumbs tumbling to the tabletop. I rolled my eyes at my best friend. “That would turn me on, too.”
“Oh, gawd, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t saying seeing him beat the shit out of Rhone would rev me up. I just meant—”
“Oh, you just meant you would melt in his arms and do anything he wanted after he bashed your boss’s face in. And, I mean, anything, Daphne…” Vania grinned and flicked a baby carrot at me. I caught it deftly and popped it in my mouth. I slowly grinned as a slight breeze from the courtyard garden ruffled my blonde hair. My best friend’s brown curls were a bit messy from the debauchery of the night before…she had made that walk of shame all the way to work on time.
“All right, maybe I would be a little more willing to explore, if he was, you know, detail-oriented…” We giggled. I sighed. “It’s just been so hard. Rhone is incredibly difficult. I had to stay at work late every day the last two weeks, and I am still running behind on the deadline for the Flores account.”
“Rhone is such an asshole. Why can’t you just tell him off?”
“Are you kidding me? I know you have never seen him, but there’s just something…scary…about him…” Rhone was a towering figure in my office doorway far too often. He was over six feet tall, with the broad shoulders of a swimmer or climber, clothed only in high-end designer suits. His facial hair was finely groomed, his black hair slicked in a wave around his piercing black eyes in a starkly pale face. I shivered, imagining how he could skewer me with just a look. “He takes private martial arts classes, you know.”
Vania sat up straight, setting her tea down hard. “Do you think he would ever actually harm you?”
“Of course not!” My protest was without hesitation, but a tiny thread of doubt trilled through my body. No…no, of course
