It wasn’t because bringing light to that darkness would endanger my career—although it would. It was because to succeed in this world, one must be the lion appearing as the gazelle—quick and sure-footed, aware of one’s surroundings, and gentle enough to approach.

Is that the way Julia sees me—safe to approach?

I wasn’t.

Am I simply luring her closer for the kill?

I didn’t know. This was unfamiliar territory.

My senses were on alert.

Everything about her stimulated them—the perfection of her beauty, the scent of her perfume, the energy in her touch, the melody of her voice, and the memory of her taste.

Will having her present alter my mission for better and more, or will I find that drive also applies to Julia?

My need to succeed was my reason to wake each morning. I required that incentive to move beyond the darkness. This house provided my solitude and a place where I could allow myself to slip into the shadows.

That was why Julia should also rescind her decision to accept my offer.

She should move to the guesthouse or back to Chicago.

My home was a bubble where I kept the memories that mattered without any outward sign of those people, places, or things having ever existed. It was also secluded. I’d orchestrated that on purpose by buying five- and ten-acre lots and demolishing most structures.

It was easier to keep urges suppressed when there wasn’t another soul for miles.

I wasn’t a hermit.

I interacted with people at the office, in meetings here in northern Wisconsin, around the country, and around the world. I traveled and played nice, always with the plan to make it back here to face my demons alone.

Few people entered my bubble though I did have help.

Mrs. Mayhand, a widowed woman I’d known for a long time, came to the house once a week while I wasn’t home and filled my refrigerator and freezer with a week’s worth of easy-to-warm meals. Her daughter, Margaret Curry, drove Mrs. Mayhand, and while her mother cooked, Margaret cleaned the unlocked rooms. Jonathon, Margaret’s husband, cared for the landscaping near the house. This time of year that meant he plowed my lane and driveway. During the spring, summer, and autumn, he tended to the lawns and other landscaping. Farther away, beyond the main house and the nearby structures, the surrounding acres were left to nature.

If a tree fell, it remained a habitat to house chipmunks, mice, snakes, and insects. Pine needles and leaves fell in the autumn and created nutrition for the undergrowth. Saplings sprang to life wherever their roots held them. Wolves, foxes, and deer were some of the more prominent mammals that called my land home.

I preferred them to the two-legged kind.

There were few people I trusted enough to allow them inside my bubble.