"Um. . .okay."

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Uh. . .will your mother be meeting your real guest?" she asked. "Would I be making places for both of them?"

"No," he said with annoyance. "Mother is going to Paris."

The women in this place have lost their minds. It'll be good to have a fresh feminine presence in this household.

Asher walked past her and finished going up the steps. "Have a good evening, Grace."

Eleven.

Cupid

Asher spent the rest of the evening reading his book.

12 Steps to Intimacy Eye to body is the first step to intimacy. This is when a man first gazes upon a woman and really notices her for the first time. . .

Asher paused from his book and considered that moment with Diana. The first time he spotted her, she'd walked into a dark kitchen, not knowing the horror that lay inside. Asher had gazed upon Diana when he was really himself-bow and arrow in hand and blood all around him. No other women had ever caught his eye in that way. Most of the time if a female was around right before or after he killed, he'd either let her go, if she wasn't guilty, or take her life with the male monster next to her.

He didn't have to do that with Diana. She'd stepped into the darkness, sensed the electricity of him across her skin and backed away.

Too bad she hadn't backed away from him farther enough, because he'd started the first step to intimacy with her, right in that moment.

He returned to his book.

. . .Eye-to-eye contact is the next step. This is now active interaction between two people. Then we have voice-to-voice, where both people feel each other out. . .

Asher laughed as he thought back to his first date with Diana. She'd done more than feel him out with her words, she'd tongue twisted him, made him thirsty to taste her. That dress had snared his attention, her mind had caught his heart. And even the darkest side of him was intrigued with her fascination with Cupid.

I can't believe she named me that.

He grinned and returned to the book, scanning the pages for the steps that dealt with physical intimacy.

When does the touching begin and how do I get us there, immediately?

Eye-to-eye. . .

Voice-to-voice. . .

Hand-to-hand. . .

Arm-to-shoulder. . .

Blowing out a long breath, Asher shut the book close and decided to make his own steps. With Diana inside of his mansion, there would be no way he could keep his hands to himself enough to slowly follow each step.

He wanted her now, could taste the sweetness of her flesh right on his tongue. He licked his lips at the thought.

I should go back over to her house and check on her.

His c.o.c.k grew in his pants. His body and mind both knew that sneaking back over to watch Diane in her bedroom had nothing to do with keeping her safe. The only danger in her life would be her husband's killer, Cupid.

And he was Cupid.

I think I'm starting to like that name.

Asher unb.u.t.toned his suit pants, stuffed his hand inside, and freed his c.o.c.k. In his mind, he pictured the view from her balcony last night.

She'd been naked when she went to bed. Drops of water glittered along that flesh. He'd dug his nails into his hands just to keep him on that balcony and not diving into her room.

Her body lay perfect. Tight, dark nipples rose up and down on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she touched herself with such sensuality. She dripped with arousal and filled the whole room with that lush scent.

A hunger had rose in Asher.

His hands itched to dip his fingers between that wet flesh between her thighs. All that cream would cover those wicked digits. All of her. And he'd lick and lick it all the way, right before diving between those legs, lapping at her c.l.i.t, and feasting on every inch of that warm p.u.s.s.y before his eyes.

That night, in the shadows of her balcony, he wanted to do more than f.u.c.k Diana.

He wanted to make her his-legs spread open, her screaming out Cupid, and him moving inside of her with enough energy to satisfy both of their hungers.

"I don't know what my plans are for you." He slipped his hands along his c.o.c.k, stopped at the tip, and squeezed the throbbing point as he thought more of Diana touching herself. "I just know that no one touches you, until I'm done."

And there he sat in his bedroom.

Light bathed his half-naked body as he stroked himself and whispered Diana's name over and over. By then he'd gotten the tiny bottle of rose-scented lotion in his night stand and lathered his length with the perfumed cream. Sweat beaded along his forehead. He ripped his shirt apart to get more movement and be relaxed. His pants now hung at his ankles.

"Oh, Diana." His thighs flexed as he pounded his c.o.c.k into his closed fists.

In his mind, she bounced on top of his c.o.c.k as he lay on the beach. An ocean breeze whipped through her long, black hair. Those supple b.r.e.a.s.t.s bobbed as he thrust back into her. All around them the night air smelled of salted sea and s.e.x.

"Oh, Cupid," she groaned.

And he didn't mind that she didn't moan Asher because, in the end, who was Asher?

Haven't I been a sort of f.u.c.ked-up Cupid all along?

He stroked himself some more, groaning so loud he was sure some of the staff had heard him. He pounded into his hand, probably abused a finger or two, but he didn't care.

"Diana!" he roared and pictured her beautiful lips as she groaned Cupid again.

In several hot, tight seconds, his seed spilled all over his fingers and dripped onto the floor.

Still he couldn't stop stroking, not even when the l.u.s.t trickled out of his c.o.c.k, and the rim went numb.

When had been the last time he'd even satisfied himself this way? s.e.x tended to come out of need versus want. When he had the urge, he simply went to a club, picked someone up, took them to a hotel, and f.u.c.ked their brains out.

Masturbation was never necessary, although he'd been wanting to touch himself more and more since he bought the rose-scented lotion.

"Diana, you're in my head." Asher stared down at his now limp c.o.c.k, wet with lotion and c.u.m. "But I'll have you in reality soon enough."

Twelve.

Diana

Diana sat in the back of Asher's limo, while his driver brought her to the Bishop Estates.

And what a sight to behold. Green, lush gra.s.s spread out for miles. When they pa.s.sed the first entrance, three guards had stood in the booth and waved.

Rose bushes outlined the path as they continued onto Asher's property. A small pond sat on the right. On the left, huge trees had been manicured into perfect oval shapes and dotted with Florida's famed oranges.

Diana pressed the b.u.t.ton on the side of her door. The window slid down, and she breathed in sweet, fruity air.

Besides the tires skidding along the road and the few birds chirping in the tree, the property held a natural quiet. It was a vibration of silent rhythm that held no real sound, but told the average person walking by that things were alive around them.

A peaceful bliss rose within her.

She should've been nervous, or at least taken aback by the past days horrific events as well as the uncertainty of each future day in front of her.

But she wasn't.

Instead, excitement skidded all over her skin, jumping around from pore to pore like tiny little fairies giggling and playing in spring.

Then they reached the second entrance. The limo paused as two security guards walked out of their booth, did a quick peek of the limo's back window, waved at her, and then gestured for the driver to enter.

A huge iron gate beeped three times and then slowly slid open.

He has some serious security happening. When did you get all of these men, Asher? Before or after you learned about the possible serial killer on the island. Are you that scared? Maybe you should be.

Suddenly, capturing Cupid rose to an even higher importance. Diana yearned for justice, just because it was the right thing to do when some crazy person took lives. She would've exhausted herself with this investigation, regardless, just for the simple fact that she lived on the island. Neil being a victim, propelled her need to find this guy. Maybe, putting Cupid away would get her some closer.

But now that she added Asher to the mix, things had gotten even deeper.

I don't want him to die by Cupid's hands. Asher deserves better. He's a good man.

Despite her desire to capture Cupid, there was a small nagging at the back of her brain that cautioned her. Cupid was doing Ovid Island a service, like a superhero. Who would rid the island of it's sc.u.m if he was caught?

The limo rounded the corner, and a ma.s.sive mansion appeared right in front of her eyes and all her thoughts floated away as she stared at the architecture. It was made out of huge blocks of gray stone that had little flower and leaf carvings around the edges. Diana guessed the place possessed at least three levels and could probably provide housing for twenty large families.

Wow. And I thought Neil liked to spend money. This place is insanely big. Why have I never heard about this property? Why don't I remember meeting Asher before Neil died? Was he involved in the island society? He doesn't seem like someone that can stomach the people here.

Diana was no stranger to dirty, unrighteous wealth.

She'd grown up watching men and women steal, cheat, and even kill to gain their financial superiority. She couldn't deny that she had done some of the same things herself to get to the top. She justified it with her rags-to-riches past. The spirit of the tough streets always beat in her heart. She could never forget where she came from. Or the price she had to pay to get where she'd ended up. That mentality served her well, when she lived in rough places like Miami and New York City.

Ovid Island reeked of a different sort of toughness. If not for Neil, she probably would've never moved to the place, never been exposed to the disgusting gorging and spending of the elite.

Diana's first few months there, had been h.e.l.l.

She'd been unprepared to live around the truly filthy rich. Instead of guarding her purse from the happen-to-run-by-pick-pocketers like she'd dealt with in Central Park, she had to protect her back from being stabbed by wealthy housewives with nothing to do. Instead of gripping her mace and looking out for attackers that crept in the shadows of South Beach, she had to guard her tongue and keep her cool, as evil CEOs tried to gag her articles and limit her reporting.

She'd had to claw her way through Ovid Island's upper crust society with only her intuition. Having several literary awards and a sparkling writing career didn't hurt either.

Maintaining her figure and cla.s.sic look also worked. Instead of being looked down upon because of her dark, smoothened skin, she was reveled. Wherever Diana's face appeared, men took notice.

I should look more into Asher when I have time. I wonder who he spends his time with around the island? What clique does he run with? Who's back has he stabbed to get to where he is today?

From Asher's limo window, she stared out at the monstrosity of the mansion, and realized that maybe they weren't too different from each other, after all. That perhaps, their rise to glory was more alike than she wanted to admit.

The driver stopped, got out of the car, came to her door, and opened it. "Mrs. Carson, are all of these your bags, or will I be returning to pick up more?"

Diana gestured to her laptop bag, full of her computer, phone, and tape recorder for any quick voice notes. "I have everything I care about at least. Of course, there's some luggage in the back."

The driver punched b.u.t.tons on his cell and talked into it. "Sir? Yes, she is here. Okay. Only a few bags, Sir. Okay. Yes. I will send Jenkins down to fetch the rest of her luggage from her home."

Excuse me? Who is he talking to? What do you mean the rest of my luggage from my house? I don't need that much stuff.

"Yes, Sir." The driver shut off his phone, and turned toward Diana. "We'll take care of your bags, Ma'am. Mr. Bishop is coming out to greet you."

"What did you mean about getting the rest of my luggage from my house?"

"I was told to get all of your belongings."

"But I have everything I need, right here."