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Without a word, he moved out of the shadows and made his way across the room to pick up the glass of bourbon I’d poured for him. He knocked it back before moving behind me.
He was a handsome man, fit and strong with dark hair that was silver at the temples. His chest and stomach were defined and taut, evidence of hours in the gym. The cream silk lounge pants he wore almost glowed against his tanned skin. His golden brown eyes glittered in the low light, reflected in the thick glass in front of me. They reminded me of a wolf’s eyes, fitting for the predator he truly was.
This was a man who could stop the heart of almost any woman who gazed into his eyes. He was a powerful, successful man who charmed millions with his words. But there was something about him that wasn’t quite human, some spark missing from his eyes that should have been there.
My skin crawled every time he touched me. It wasn’t the way he skimmed slightly clammy hands over my flesh. It wasn’t even the things he did to me, the way his fingers invaded every part of me in an effort to debase me. It was the look on his face and the dead of his eyes. It was as if he had no soul, no humanity. I had no faith in anything beyond myself, but if ever there was a person who was truly evil, it was this man.
I knew his name, of course, but he paid me well to keep silent, even when we were alone. His face was famous, one that millions knew and loved. But none of them knew him the way I did. None of those excited, screaming women knew what he was really like. That was our dirty little secret.


