C4 Book 1 The Offer

I am not yours, not lost in you,

Not lost, although I long to be

Lost as a candle lit at noon,

Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

~ Sara Teasdale

I make a quick stop at the grocery store, tipping the cabbie generously with money I can ill afford to spend so she'll wait as I pick up the necessary supplies for my evening plan. It should be sleep, since it's almost two in the morning at this point, but this is New York, a city that's always awake. And I don't sleep much at any rate.

When the cab pulls up to my apartment, I tip once again, mentally counting down how much--or rather how little--money I have left. I slink into the building, hoping the manager isn't around. It was a nice place once upon a time, and the architecture is still breathtaking, but lack of care has worn it down. You can feel the spirit within has given up the fight. Even still, the rooms weren’t cheap to come by. New York is New York, no matter what neighborhood you live in.

At my old job, the cost was no big deal. In fact, I had my sights set on something much grander before.

Now...

I'm just about to the elevator when I hear his voice. "Miss Oliver, I was hoping to run into you. Can we talk privately in my office a moment?" he asks, while placing his hand at my elbow and giving me a pointed stare.

It's not a question, it's a command, and I resent him and myself for the fact that I feel like a misbehaving child as he leads me to his office and closes the door. He sits behind his desk, and I stand, giving me a good view of the balding spot on his head, the light bulb overhead flashing against pale skin. Roger Lemon's parents own this building, which is his only qualification for managing an apartment complex. He's got a skinny mustache across a thin lip that makes him look Hitleresque but without the gravitas to lead a country.

"Miss Oliver, your payments are now several months past due. You have gotten my notices, I trust?"

"Every single one of them," I say through gritted teeth.

"Then you know this cannot be allowed to go on. We will have to take, dare I say it, drastic measures, if you do not get your account in compliance."

Compliance. I've always hated that word.

"I should have the money to you soon. I had a job interview today that looks promising."

His thin lips pinch together, forming a crease between his eyebrows. "I sympathize with what you've been through, but I think we've been patient long enough."

"I'll get you your money," I say. "I just need a bit more time."

His dark beady eyes bore into me. "You have until the end of the week, Miss Oliver. If you are not caught up on all your payments--including interest, you will be locked out of your apartment and all of your belongings will be confiscated and sold to pay your balance."

I seethe with rage, but I can't act on it. Not yet. "I'll get you your money by the end of the week," I say, then I turn to leave, but he grabs my arm, and when I whirl around to face him, he licks his lips.

He hands me an envelope with a red "PAST DUE" stamp on it. "There are other ways you could work off what you owe," he says.

It's not the first time he's pulled this shit, and it likely won't be the last. I yank my arm out of his grip, knowing his fingers will leave bruises. "I'll get you your money."

I can feel his eyes watching me as I go, and I force myself not to shiver.

Once in my apartment, I triple lock the door behind me, draw the curtains, and head to my bedroom. It only takes me ten minutes to change into my pajamas, scrub my face, and warm up a blanket in the dryer. While the blanket heats, I dig through my bag of goodies and pull out my current romantic threesome. Ben & Jerry. My rebound guys. Always here for me. Never disappointing. I grab a spoon and fill a glass generously with red wine, then head to the couch.

But the past due envelope snags my attention, and I rip it open in frustration, my eyes burning when I read it through once, then twice.

That bastard is charging an insane amount of interest. I owe twice what I thought, which was already more than I know how to get.

Not only will I lose my home, I'll lose everything in it.

Once I have my blanket, I tuck in for a few hours of watching horror movies as I try to mentally process what I saw, heard, and now suspect about my job interview, and what I'm going to do about this new deadline.

I would move out, if I could. But I don't have the money for a first, last, and deposit. Hell, I don't have the money for boxes to pack my shit. And after the last year, my credit is shot. The only way I don't become homeless in a week is to find a job that will give me an advance large enough to get caught up on my payments.

I think back to The Night Firm. We never got around to talking salary. Even if I was willing to work for them. Which I'm not.

I try to remember why I'm not, but my thoughts are muddled. It's becoming harder and harder to pull out the details of my exchange. I blame it on the wine, the sugar, and the haunting soundtrack of the movie I'm watching. My massive breakdown earlier. Speaking of, I should be feeling much worse right now. I don't understand how I recovered so quickly.

Halfway through the movie and the bottle of wine, I've nearly got myself convinced that my mind was playing tricks on me. I've been under tremendous stress for over a year now. I'm exhausted. I'm probably malnourished. That can do things to the brain. I just need to move on. Tomorrow, I decide, refilling my glass, tomorrow I'll go online, search for more jobs, find more interviews. I'll stick to 9-5 listings only!

With that decided, I give all my attention to the movie, and am mildly disappointed when I try to pour more wine and only a reluctant drop comes out. But I planned for this and bought two bottles.

A bit wobbly, I head back to the kitchen to uncork the other bottle, when I'm interrupted by a knock at my door and the ringing of the doorbell.

This shocks me almost more than anything else this evening.

No one comes to visit here, certainly not in the middle of the night. If it's Roger, that slimy bastard, I'm going to sue his ass for harassment.

In my alcohol-muddled mind, it doesn't take me long to convince myself that's exactly who's behind the door. Roger thinks if I'm desperate enough he can have me. He doesn't seem to get I would literally rather be homeless than let him touch me.

I school my face into one of a fierce warrior, then I march to the door and swing it open, ready for battle.

"You can go shove it up your ass if you think I'm going to--"

"Hello, Eve," Sebastian Night says, standing in my hallway with a pissy expression on his god-like face. "I see your outburst in the office isn't a one-off."

"I thought you were someone else," I say, my wine-addled brain sluggish. "What are you doing here?" I cross my arms over my chest, feeling suddenly self-conscious in my cat slippers and matching robe.

He hands me an envelope. "I was sent to give you this."

"What is it?" I ask, taking it from him. As I do, our fingers touch, and that sense of an earthquake rocking my insides overwhelms me again, though not unpleasantly. It's just intense. Passionate. Buried passion. He flinches at the touch, so I assume he feels something, too, but isn't thrilled with it.

"It's a job offer," he says, ignoring whatever is going on between us.

"Are you serious?" I ask, completely shocked. "After that interview, why would I work for you, and why would you want me to?"

He shrugs, avoiding my eyes. "It wasn't my decision." He turns to walk away, then pauses, glancing at me over his shoulder. "But if I were you, I'd burn that paper and pretend you never heard of The Night Firm. Stick to the light like your father said."

I watch until he disappears around the corner, then close my door, locking up once again. Back on the couch, I stare at the thick cream envelope stamped with a wax seal. How pretentious, but kinda cool, too. I break open the seal and unfold the letter. It's handwritten in calligraphy, so formal it feels like a summons from a king, not a job offer from a law firm.

The Night Firm would like to offer Miss Eve Oliver the job of Manager of Operations, to begin immediately, or as soon as Miss Oliver can avail herself of the position. It is a full time, live-in position, with generous compensation and benefits. We await your decision.

It ends with each of the four brothers' names and signatures and stamped with an "N" matching the wax seal.

There's a second page, this one indicating a generous signing bonus, salary, benefits and spending budget for wardrobe, food, and more.

The numbers make me gasp.

I sit there in a daze, staring at the letter to make sure it's real and not something I'm imagining.

This is enough to get caught up on my payments and then some. Though I realize that since it's a live-in position, I wouldn't actually need this place anymore.

Tears burn my eyes. This job could save me from bankruptcy and homelessness.

Two years ago, if you'd told me this is what my life would look like right now, I never would have believed you.

I was happy, at the top of my career, in love with someone I thought was a great man, living in a luxury apartment in the heart of New York's poshest neighborhood. I had it all.

Then I lost it all the day my brother called with the news.

I didn't know it at the time. Not yet.

But certain events in life have the ability to strip you of everything so slowly you don't realize it's happening until it's too late.

Now I'm single, deeply in debt, unemployed, and as unhappy as I've ever been in my life.

I glance down at the thick parchment, shaking my head. This could solve all my problems.

I can't believe I'm considering it. That place was insane. Even if I was only imagining parts of it.

After all, the strange things I saw did happen after my explosive headache. I've never had one that bad, but even in the past I've had moments of seeing things that weren’t there. This might have felt more real, but that's likely due to the severity of the episode.

So, what's really the problem with taking the job? I reach for my wine glass but realize I never finished opening the new bottle. Damn.

The worst thing is that a few of the brothers clearly don't want me there. Especially Sebastian.

So what? I climbed to the top at my last job despite men like that, not because of them. I could do it again. Would do it again.

I consider waiting until morning, but I realize this is now my new work day, if I really am going to do this. Am I really going to do this?

Apparently I am.

I dial before I change my mind. The female twin answers. "This is Eve. May I please speak with Derek?"

I decide to use his first name since Mr. Night would bring all the boys running, and I only want to talk to the one who actually fought for me to be there.

"Hello, Eve," his warm voice says a moment later.

"I'll take the job," I say hurriedly, before my liquid courage fades.

"I'm delighted to hear that. Can we expect you to start tomorrow evening?"

"You said this requires a live-in situation, yes?"

"Yes."

"I might need a few days to get my belongings packed and my things in order. But I have...a favor to ask."

"What might that be?"

I bite my lip, hating that I have to ask this. "Is it possible to get my signing bonus now?"

"Of course, that can be arranged." He pauses, and I hear some clicking in the background. "The money has been transferred into your account. You should see it there now. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

I'm dumbfounded. I set my phone to speaker and click open my banking app to check. Sure enough, the deposit was made. "But, I didn't give you my account information."

He chuckles. "You will find we have significant resources at our disposal. You don't think we offered this job to you without doing a thorough investigation into your life, do you?"

"That's...that's invasive!" I feel vulnerable and violated, but not enough to take back my acceptance of the job. I can't totally blame them. I always encouraged background checks on new employees. Of course, they would look into me, especially if I'll be handling sensitive client information or dealing with large amounts of money. And if I'm living with them, then that's a whole other deal. They'd certainly want to know the person they were bringing into their home.

I should be so diligent, but I can't seem to find anything about this company or this family online, which is just strange, and I don't know what that means. How do you run a business, a successful one by the looks of it, without having some online presence these days?

"I apologize for the personal intrusion, but given the sensitive nature of our work, I fear we had no choice but to be thorough. As for your relocation, I can send a moving team to your apartment tomorrow to help you pack and move whatever you want. I can provide a storage unit, or if you'd rather, I can arrange for whatever you'd like to be sold and the money sent to your account."

"Um. Thanks. Yeah, I guess that would be helpful."

"Very good. Can I expect to see you Thursday evening, then?"

"Yes, that should be enough time."

"Wonderful. We look forward to having you as part of our family. I'll send a driver for you and your belongings at 7 p.m. Anything you'd like sent to our home, please let the movers know tomorrow and it will be here waiting for you."

"Can I ask you one more thing?" I rush the words before I lose my nerve. This may be a bad idea, but what the hell. I'm full of those tonight.

"Anything," he says.

I explain to him what I need and I can hear the smile in his voice. "It would be my pleasure to assist in this."

He ends the call, and I sit staring at my phone. Have I completely lost my mind? I kind of feel like I have.

I yawn, and the adrenaline rush of seeing Sebastian and making that call crashes over me, leaving me weak and tired and ready for bed.

I abandon the second bottle of wine and retire to my bedroom, falling onto my mattress like the drunk, exhausted woman I am.

That night my dreams take me to a grove of trees near a stream. The moon is full and reflects off the water. A woman shrouded in a robe stands in front of a blazing fire, her long, dark, hair -- untamed and curly -- whips in the wind as she raises her arms.

"I am the woman in the wild!" she screams into the shrieking wind. As she speaks, the wind thrashes, the water becomes brackish, the fire blazes, and the trees seem to bend into her.

"I am the blood sister of the moon! I am the call of the night and her secrets. The radiance left from a star. I am all that you need and more than you know. I am the hidden that shall now be found. Tell my story. Set me free. I am the magic that you seek. I am the wild!"

As her robes fall off, she stands naked, her face covered by her hair, the flames dancing off her pale skin, moving around her. She controls the flames, sending them forward. Sending them into me in a flash of heat and searing pain.

My heart slams against my ribs as I wake with a start, gasping for breath, clutching my chest.

I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying my dream. It felt so real. So visceral. Like I was standing in the clearing with her. I could feel the heat of the flames, the splash of the water from the stream. I could smell the wood burning and the mulch from the forest. I could feel her power flowing in and around me.

My breathing slows and I check the time. It's not even seven in the morning yet, but I know I won't be getting any more sleep.

I slide out of bed and am about to head to the shower, but I decide to take a run instead, despite my hangover, either from the bottle of wine or the headache, likely both. Still, it's been too long since I worked out. I need this.

On my way to the door, I pause outside my brother's room and take a deep breath. Some days are easier than others. All days are hard. I push it away most of the time, but when I'm home, I allow myself a moment for our memories. Just a moment.

Then I leave the building and begin running.

With music blasting in my ear, and the pounding of the pavement under my feet, I don't pay too much attention to where I'm going, so I'm a little surprised when I end up at The Night Firm.

But I'm not nearly as surprised as when I poke my head in and see it's empty. Not just no one at the front desk, but totally empty. No sign. No furniture. No cool zen decorations. No fountain overflowing.

I pull out my phone and call the office number. The creepy twin whose name I should probably learn answers. "The Night Firm."

"Derek, please, it's Eve."

She puts me on hold without a word. As usual. If I were them I'd put someone more personable up front as the first contact, but that's just me.

"Derek Night here," he says in a distracted voice.

"Hi, it's Eve," I say. "I'm um...I'm confused."

"About what, Eve?"

"I'm at the office, only The Night Firm no longer exists here. Is this some kind of scam?" I ask.

"How could this be a scam?" he asks. "I've sent you money. Isn't a scam usually the other way around?"

He's got a point there.

"So you relocated in the few hours I slept?" I ask. "How's that even possible?"

"With the right motivation, anything is possible."

I don't know what to say in response to that.

"And we did make it clear that this job was live-in and involved travel. We go where our clients need us."

"That's a highly unusual way for a law firm to do business," I say, which is honestly the biggest understatement in the history of understatements.

"We are a highly unusual firm, Miss Oliver, as I'm sure you've noticed. But I am glad you called. The movers will be at your house in two hours. They should have everything done by noon."

That seems unlikely, but I don't say as much. After all, anything is possible according to this guy.

We end the call, and I run back to my apartment and shower before the movers arrive.

If they really are on their way, I need to hurry.

I pause in front of my brother's room, my hand resting on the cool, metal doorknob. I haven't entered his room since the day he died. I know that sounds foolish, but it's like Schr'f6dinger's cat. There's a box with a cat in it, and the cat has an equal chance of being alive or dead. But once you open the box, it's over, the truth staring at you. As long as I keep the door closed, I can pretend my brother yet lives. At least in my own mind. Once I open the door and face the emptiness, it'll be over.

Still.

It's time.

I twist the knob and close my eyes, then push the door open.

His scent--cinnamon and honey--hits me first, and it shocks me so much I crumple to my knees with a whimper. It's as if he was just here. How is that possible?

I open my eyes and see that the room is empty, as expected. It looks exactly as it did when he was alive, minus the hospital bed we rented for him. Now, in lieu of a bed, there are deep grooves in the carpets where the wheels had pressed in. But everything else is untouched. The bottles of medication on the side table. The open book lying face down, holding his page as if he might come back to it at any moment. His favorite socks folded just so next to his shoes.

A breeze catches the curtains of his window, blowing through the room gently, carrying more of his scent to me. I could have sworn the window had been locked. It always was.

Adam and I fought about it constantly. He needed fresh air, but he refused to let me leave the windows open. "I don't want to stink up the rest of the world with the scent of my death," he’d said.

And so his scent grew stronger in our home, turning from the beloved and comforting and familiar to a mutated version of itself, similar enough to inspire a fresh wave of grief, but more rancid and laced with rot. A reminder of what was to come.

I suck in my breath and cross the room in ten steps, stopping in front of the window. When I touch it, I feel the pull of a flash, but it fades before I can follow the thread. The window slams shut quite suddenly, and without my aid, or the aid of anyone as far as I can see.

It must have been the wind.

I turn towards the bedroom, to face what remains of my brother. There are some things I cannot let someone else pack, or even touch. Not until I am done.

And so I begin one item at a time, savoring the memory each of his belongings brings up in me, even as it slices a fresh wound in my already eviscerated heart.

A sweet torture.

In the end, I only keep one thing.

His ring.

He always wore it. To the very end.

I gave it to him the day we both graduated college.

I slip it onto my middle finger and then leave his bedroom for the last time.

* * *

I don't know how it happened, but Derek wasn't wrong. The movers have everything cleared out by noon. I am left in an empty apartment, save for my personal items. I've decided not to store anything, and to take only what I truly need and a few keepsakes.

A fresh start, as it were.

Letting them into my brother's room was the hardest part, but I know it's time to move on. He would want me to if nothing else.

When the movers leave, I take out my checkbook and march down to Roger's office. He grins when he sees me. "I see you've come to your senses and are ready to discuss my terms," he says, his smile a lascivious sneer.

He licks his lips and I shudder. I clench my fist around my checkbook, then smile. "Why, that's so sweet, but you see I've come to pay off what I owe."

His face pales. "Well, that's great news, but surely you don't need to spend all that money when there are other ways to satisfy the debt."

I slap the check onto his desk. "Here is my payment in full, plus interest."

He looks at it and the sides of his lips curl up. "It seems you're several thousand dollars short."

"About that," I say, shoving a letter into his hands featuring The Night Firm letterhead. "It seems it wasn't contractually legal for you to hike the interest after we'd signed an agreement. I've paid what was originally agreed upon. Nothing more. It's also not legal to extort sexual favors as payment for a debt, you miserable sleaze-ball. If you have any questions, you can contact my lawyer."

I let myself gloat as I walk out of his office, leaving him gaping.

I owe Derek a big thanks for that one.

* * *

Tomorrow my new life begins. Today, I'm going to pamper myself and use my new expense card to make sure I have the right wardrobe for this job.

I want to enjoy the shopping, the makeover--god I've needed a new haircut for ages--the pampering. But my mind keeps turning back to Sebastian and his brothers. They mesmerize me even as they confound me. And I still don't really know what this bloody job is. My life feels entirely too surreal.

Back in my hotel for the night, I push myself to stay awake until morning. It's time to get used to my new sleep schedule.

I spend the night sketching Sebastian in different poses. Tired of my obsession, I move on to other subjects. First, I sketch Matilda leaning over that strange table with the fire. Then I sketch the scene that dances in my mind like a dream, of eyes glowing silver in a face of midnight, that delicate horn in the center of her forehead.

I manage three hours of sleep before waking in the afternoon. I realize I'm ready to go. This is too much waiting. I pass the time exercising in the hotel gym, taking a bath, eating, watching movies. Finally, it's time. I check out with all my belongings and wait in front of the hotel for the driver Derek promised. It's been awhile since I've owned a car, and I've never had a driver. This is quite a change of status for me.

A limo pulls up at precisely seven p.m. and a perky young woman bounces out and smiles widely at me. "I'm Lily. I'll be your driver from now on."

Lily has pink punk rock hair, multiple facial piercings, and wears a driver uniform that's bright neon colors mixed with tie dye. It's quite the combination and it stands out starkly against her ebony skin. I'm instantly drawn to her sparkly personality.

"I get a driver all the time?" I ask.

She laughs. "Of course, silly. You're part of the family now."

I don't know what she means by that, but she opens the door for me to get in, and then proceeds to pack my luggage into the trunk.

Once we're both settled, she asks if I want the middle window up or down. "It's sound proof. You'll have complete privacy."

"No, I like talking to you," I say, as I study the limo. I've been in one before, but this is especially nice. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know," she says sheepishly.

"You don't know where we're going? Then how will we get there?"

"The GPS is programmed with the current address," she says.

"Current address? They have several homes?"

"No, well, yes, but that's not what I meant. The home changes locations as needed for security or work."

A shock of horror fills me. "Am I going to be living in a mobile home?" I ask.

She laughs. "No way. Wait till you see it. It's not that kind of mobile. It's...really hard to explain. You'll have to wait to get there and see for yourself. It's going to blow your mind." She snaps her mouth shut. "But I'm not supposed to say too much. They want to tell you everything themselves."

"Everything like what?" I ask, hoping I can get more out of her.

"I'm sorry, I can't!" She squeezes her lips together and shakes her head.

I sigh, letting her off the hook. I don't want her to get in trouble.

"Can you at least tell me if they're a good family to work for?"

She smiles broadly. "Oh, yes. Granny Night rescued me when I was little. I was practically raised with the Nights. The brothers are like my uncles. They can seem a bit gruff at first, but they each have a soft spot worth searching for. Don't give up on them."

It's good to hear someone speak well of them. It makes me feel less nervous about relocating my life into theirs with so little warning.

I resign myself to my own thoughts and wonder idly who Roger's next victim will be. A thought occurs to me, and I call Derek.

"Hello, Miss Oliver, I trust your driver is taking good care of you and that the movers were helpful?"

"Oh, yes, to both. And call me Eve. I... have another favor--and it's... unusual."

"Oh, I'm intrigued," Derek says.

"My former landlord is a sleaze to women. I'd hate to imagine another woman getting that apartment and being harassed by him. Is there anything you can do to...I don't know, make sure that doesn't happen?" I don't even know what I'm asking, and I feel like a moron. "Maybe somehow ensure it gets rented to a big, buff dude or something?"

Derek chuckles. "I like your style, Miss...Eve. You'll fit right in, I think. I can definitely handle that. Anything else?"

"Um, I don't think so. You've already been more than generous."

When we hang up, I check my bank account again to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me before, but the money is all there. I know the check I wrote will clear soon, but that still leaves a comfortable savings and a decent buffer fund should this job go south fast. That gives me a little room to breathe. I worked so hard to build a stable financial structure, never imagining that one year of medical expenses could wipe it all out so quickly.

Cancer kills in more ways than one.

It destroys everything about a person's life.

I shake my head, unwilling to dwell on that now. I'm turning things around. Making progress with my life. I think.

I hope.

I close my eyes and let myself try to doze until I feel the limo slowing.

"Are we there already?" I ask, surprised the drive went by so fast.

"Not exactly," Lily says. "We have one more passenger to pick up." She says this sheepishly, and I realize why when the door opens and Sebastian slides into the back, newspaper in hand.

The look of irritation doesn't appear on his face until he sees me.

Naturally.

Seriously though, what did I do to piss this guy off?