Chapter 4

Sara

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

I tried the ignition again, slamming my hand on the dashboard. I was late, far too much so to even think about going to the interview now. But I had a terrible feeling if I didn't, I wouldn't get another chance. Oh, what was wrong with me? I'd lost track of time in studying for the second to last exam, running around like a chicken with its head cut off as I tried to make myself look presentable, professional.

And older than my twenty-two years.

It was already getting dark, more so given the horrific storm that had drenched the city in the last few hours. And given my car wouldn't start, I was certain I'd blown it.

I was furious and determined, grimacing as I glared out the windshield at the steadily falling rain. While not a torrential downfall, if I looked under the hood to see if the belt had slipped again, there'd be no way I could hold my umbrella.

And I'd taken the time to style my hair, putting on some makeup, which was also a rarity. Even the cute black pencil skirt and white silk blouse were perfectly adult, professional yet not too frilly. Complete with my new black heels, I thought I looked the part of an assistant to a bestselling author.

Even if Easton Saint had yet to put words on paper. Or so the ad in the college newspaper had mentioned.

Wanted: Summer intern—ghostwriting/research assistant position available. Must have qualified knowledge of the English language, be adept at creative writing and prefer the macabre. I plan on starting and finishing a novel in three months. You will live, eat, and breathe the work alongside me and nothing else.

I'd been intrigued by the writing possibilities and experience alone but sticking the word ‘macabre' into the wanted ad had me, hook, line, and sinker. Fine. I could explain why I was wet and perhaps my diligence at arriving to the interview fashionably late instead of bagging it would impress the staunch professor.

Or maybe not.

Either way, I couldn't sit here forever. Grousing, I hit the hood's release, grateful my father and brothers had forced me to learn the basics about vehicles. Belts, hoses, tires, oil, and sparkplugs in old-style cars and trucks I could do with one hand tied behind my back. Well, okay. Maybe not. Unfortunately, the ominous shadows made it difficult to see what I was doing. After grabbing my handy-dandy flashlight from the glove box, I threw open the door, cursing up a blue streak as I rushed from my pain in the ass Toyota. I fumbled with the latch before I managed to open the hood.

As soon as I turned on the flashlight, I grimaced again, forced to smack it on my palm. The batteries needed to be changed. I said a silent prayer they would last long enough to get this done. I scanned the engine, shivering as the rain cut through my clothes. I would soon look like a drowned rat. Oh, thank God. I found the issue.

Just as I'd thought, the damn belt had slipped again. Why couldn't mechanics tighten them appropriately? Oh, yes. They wanted more business. Still grousing, I shoved the small flashlight cylinder into my mouth as I hurriedly did what I could with my bare hands, reminding myself I needed to get a mechanic's tool bag together for the future. I knew my quick repair wouldn't last but for so many miles but as long as it got me to the professor's estate and back, I'd promised myself I'd stand over the mechanic while he repaired it on a more permanent basis.

Satisfied, I slammed the hood, racing back to the car. One quick look into the rearview mirror and I knew I looked like a drowned rat. Hopefully, given it would take me about twenty-five minutes to get to his place, I would dry out some.

At least my hair had that sexy, chic look about it. Right.

I said a silent prayer and turned over the engine, squealing when it roared to life.

Maybe I could salvage the night.

A whole lot of prayers were in order.

I took off, listening to the GPS on my phone as it tried to navigate me out of town. I'd looked up where he lived, shocked that it appeared he had a huge estate on a massive amount of acreage for being just outside the city. Granted, I didn't know every area outside of Chicago, terrified to venture out on my own. But it appeared his neighborhood was full of those with more money than common sense.

Maybe the rumors swirling around both him and his two brothers were true.

The Saint brothers were supposedly from an old mafia family, finally cleaning up their act after the death of their father and landing themselves dozens of lucrative weapons contracts. Including one with the Pentagon. Or maybe they were extorting and blackmailing people, as the whispers suggested.

Either way, the stories added to the professor's allure, at least in my mind.

I remained nervous the entire time I drove, but my aging little car kept her end of the bargain, running smoothly. As I took the exit off the interstate, the gloomy shadows were unable to hide my shock and awe about the area surrounding where he lived. Money. There was no doubt the people who lived in this part of town were all rich, just as I'd suspected.

Lucky bastards.

I laughed softly as I glanced at my GPS. I was getting close. One more turn and I was on his street. There were a few houses set far back from the road, every one of them with their outside lights on. However, it was easy to see each one had at least five or so acres of land. I couldn't imagine how much one of them cost.

By the time I was close to his driveway, I was hyperventilating. I was a damn good writer, always making straight A's. I worked for the school newspaper, doing sexy human-interest stories. I'd written twenty thousand words on my own debut novel. I had the props to help him.

Try lying to yourself some more.

The man could obviously hire a professional. Why ask for a student in particular? Money? No salary range had been mentioned, but as long as it paid what I made at the diner, which was shit, then I was fine. It was all about the experience. I was still close to hyperventilating when I pulled into his long driveway, trying to concentrate on what beauty I could see.

And not running into any of the massive trees lining the aggregate pathway.

I made it without hitting anything, laughing at myself for being such a scaredy cat. As I cut the engine, the outside lights suggesting he was still waiting for my arrival, I did what I could to boost my confidence.

I had three copies of my abysmal resume. I had writing samples prepared and I had attitude. All check, check, check. Okay, two out of three wasn't bad.

After another series of deep breaths, I thanked the gods it was no longer raining, and opened the door.

It was now or never.

This was my moment and I was going to grab it and never let go. I knew the man was tough, but I wasn't the kind of girl to take no for an answer.

Holding my head high and ignoring I was a rumpled mess, I took long strides toward the front portico, controlling my breathing as I did. The moment I rang the doorbell, I plastered a smile on my face, prepared to give the man a solid handshake.

Even if I was over an hour late.

Ugh.

I finally heard footsteps and sucked in my breath.

When he opened the door, all motivation was ripped from me. It felt as if I hadn't been so close to the man the entire semester I'd been in his class. Well, in truth I hadn't. And it was obvious from the way his eyes swept all the way down to my toes that he didn't recognize me.

He was dressed in the same crisp white shirt he always wore in class, only without the tie, and with several buttons unfastened revealing a stunningly muscular chest. My very inappropriate gaze drifted downward, noticing instead of his usual gray or black tailored trousers, he was wearing the sexiest pair of blue jeans I'd ever seen on a man.

As if God had sent him the fabric directly.

He smirked as he caught my heated gaze, giving me one of his own. I'd never seen the kind of expression he was wearing before. He'd always been cold, only showing emotions when he discussed a favorite dark work of art. But now, it was as if an entirely different side of him had surfaced, something dark and sadistic.

"Professor Saint," I said, maybe a little too casually and with a tiny voice I didn't recognize. Goosebumps peppered my skin from the light breeze hitting my wet clothes and the throb between my legs. No amount of chastising was going to make me feel any less salacious.

"You're late." His tone was also entirely different, more melodic, while being just as authoritative as usual.

"I apologize but my car wouldn't start."

He cocked his head, rubbing his fingers across his stubbled jaw. He had to be by far the sexiest man I'd ever met. I was blown away by just how gorgeous he was but did what I could not to allow him to know he made me nervous.

Like a kitty cat.

"Fine. Come in. We'll make up for lost time."

As I trailed through the house, I was breathless with wonder. Everything was insanely gorgeous from the hardwood floors in some exotic wood to the art on the wall. There was classical music coming from somewhere, the sound dark and as macabre as a Chopin piece could be.

He was certainly setting the tone for his proposed book.

As I was led into his study, he immediately walked to his desk, sitting on the edge. "Put your things over there." He pointed to one of the chairs.

I did as he asked without question, trying to locate my voice and the confidence that had flown out the window.

"Turn around. Let me see all of you."

"Um, o-kay." I did what he asked and he sighed. I was thrown by the fact he'd unfastened the long shirtsleeves of his crisp white shirt. He took his time, rolling one sleeve then the other over his elbows and for some crazy reason, the action seemed like the sexiest thing I'd seen a man do.

Not that I had a lot of experience.

Swallowing hard, I tried to ignore the tattoo, but it appeared the dragon's beady red eyes were following me, observing as if I was unwelcome. Jesus. I'd read too much Poe over the semester.

Or maybe it was from the horror movies I adored, slasher flicks allowing me to relax.

"Slowly," he growled. The single word oozed of authority, and the way his eyes pierced mine screamed he meant business. I was tingling all over, my inner core heated to a thousand degrees.

I was more than slightly flabbergasted, uncertain what he was trying to do other than to intimidate me. But I did as he asked, still grateful for the opportunity.

"Very nice. I approve, including the secretary outfit. Excellent touch."

"Thank you, sir. Now, about?—"

I didn't get to ask my question, the man growling out a command and one that shocked me more than anything else had in a very long time.

"We shall begin. Be a good girl for me and drop to your knees."