He saw the very instant that she lost it, and treasured it. He watched her eyes moisten, saw the large tears roll over her cheeks, streaking her working-girl makeup.

He felt the power, and it was as good as he’d hoped it would be. A small insignificant game, certainly, but a delicious one. He loved being able to instill such shock and pain.

“Poor Sarah. Poor, poor dear,” he murmured.

Then Shafer did the cruelest, most unforgivable thing. Also the most outrageous and dangerous. He got up from his desk and came around to comfort her. He stood behind her, pressing himself against her shoulders. He knew it was the last thing she wanted, to be touched by him, to feel that he was aroused.

She stiffened and pulled away from him as if he were on fire. “Bastard,” she said, between clenched teeth. “You are a consummate prick!”

Sarah left his office, shaking and in tears, running in that stumbling way women often do in heels. Shafer loved it. The sadistic pleasure, not only of hurting someone but of destroying this innocent woman. He memorized the stunning image for all time. He would play it back, over and over.

Yes, he was a prick. Consummate indeed.

Chapter 18

ROSIE THE CAT was perched on the windowsill, watching me dress for my date with Christine. I envied the simplicity of her life: Love to eat those mousies, mousies what I love to eat.

I finally headed downstairs. I was taking the night off from work, and I was more nervous, distracted, and fidgety than I had been in a long time. Nana and the kids knew something was up, but they didn’t know what, and it was driving my three favorite busybodies crazy.

“Daddy, tell me what’s going on, please?” Jannie clasped her hands in prayer and begged.

“I told you no, and no is no. Not even if you get down on your bony little knees,” I said, and smiled. “I have a date tonight. It’s just a date. That’s all you need to know, young lady.”

“Is it with Christine?” Jannie asked. “At least you can tell me that much.”

“That’s for me to know,” I said as I knotted my tie in the mirror beside the stairs. “And you not to find out, my overinquisitive girlfriend.”

“You’re wearing your fancy blue-striped suit, your fancy dancing shoes, that fancy tie you like. You’re so fancy.”

“Do I look good?” I turned and asked my personal clothier. “For my date?”

“You look beautiful, Daddy.” My girl beamed, and I knew I could believe her. Her eyes were shiny little mirrors that always told the truth. “You know you do. You know you’re handsome as sin.”

“That’s my girl,” I said, and laughed again. Handsome as sin. She got that one from Nana, no doubt.