And I don’t care. I don’t want to hurt him. I know he’s not innocent, but he’s not guilty either. Not the way Travis and Jessica are. Not the way his father is. I may not have all the details, but I now know this man. He’s like me. He’ll bend the rules a little to help his family, even when they screw up. He harbors anger and brutality and unwavering ambition; he finds satisfaction in the destruction of his enemies. But when he’s asked to take a woman he dislikes to the hospital, he does it.

We have the same strengths; we have the same weaknesses. We fit.

When he slips his arm over my shoulders, my heart rate immediately increases. I want this man.

“I know you’ve had a hard day,” he murmurs as he kisses my ear, just the way I like it, making me flush.

“Lander,” I whisper, although I don’t actually have anything more to say. He kisses my hair, my shoulder. I close my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the tenderness of it. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got to believe that. I have to believe that I can have my justice and still find a way to be with him. I have to have this.

Prince Charming may not be forgiving . . . but he doesn’t necessarily have to know that there’s anything to forgive either. I must make this work.

I turn toward him and our eyes lock, and he leans in just as his phone rings. He smiles and rests his forehead against mine. “Just one moment,” he says and gets up to grab the phone, which he left on the bar on the other side of the room. When he stares down at the screen his expression changes.

“Lander?” I ask, but he holds up his hand for silence as he puts the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Father. I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.”

I’m immediately alert. This is a conversation I want to hear. But Lander walks down the hall, into his office, and closes himself in.

Frustrated, I follow him and press my ear against the door, but all I can hear is murmuring and the sound of rustling papers.

Grudgingly I walk back to the living room and take a seat. It could be that they’re talking about Jessica, or maybe Edmund’s just calling to say hi.

But I doubt it. I’ve seen no evidence that Lander and his father have that kind of relationship.

To occupy myself and stop my wondering, I pull out my own phone from my purse and start idly flipping through my photos. I slow down when I get to Lander’s pictures and anagrams. There are still a few I haven’t worked out, like E’s Wolflike Indecency.