As I pass through the lobby, a smile on my face, I see the local florist renewing the flower arrangement on the ornate, round showpiece of a table that holds court. I stop and admire the simple spray of calla lilies.

“Mr. Ward,” she says, pausing with the tweaking of the tall stems. “It’s a beautiful day.”

I look at the imposing double doors that lead to the circular driveway. “I’ll take your word for it,” I say, returning my attention to her. She’s smiling, all dreamy, and I dazzle her with my knockout beam. She gets herself in a bit of a fluster, returning to the arrangement that looks pretty fucking perfect to me. “They’re beautiful,” I say, reaching for one of the lilies and stroking the velvety white head.

She pauses again, her eyes falling to my fingers. She’s wondering what these hands are capable of. I’ll leave her with that thought. “Have a great day.” I continue to my office.

Sarah is in the summer room when I pass through, talking to a woman I don’t recognize. It’s not unusual, what with new members joining every week. “Hi,” I say as I pass.

“Oh, Jesse, this is Geraldine,” Sarah says, and I stop. “She’s a new member. I’m just showing her around. Geraldine, this is Jesse Ward. He owns The Manor.”

My hand comes up as I take her in. Mid-forties, perhaps. Professional. A lawyer, most likely. She’s got an air of supremacy about her. Uptight. Finds it hard to let herself go. She’s come to the right place. “Welcome to The Manor.” I dazzle her with my signature smile, and I see her throat bulge from her poorly hidden swallow.

She coughs, accepting my hand, and I give it just enough of a squeeze to have her mind race with curiosity. “Thank you.” She smiles coyly as I flex my grip. “I look forward to spending time here.”

I bet she does. “You’ll never want to leave,” I assure her, backing away. “See you around.”

Her head cocks. “You will.” She’s wondering whether I dabble. She’ll soon find out.

I don’t have to look at Sarah to know her lips will be tight. “Let me show you the private suites,” she says, virtually pulling Geraldine away.

I make it to my office and grab a water from the fridge, downing the lot in one fell swoop. My eyes fall to my drinks cabinet. Then to the clock. Back to my drinks cabinet. My jaw clenches. Back to the clock.

My phone ringing is my savior, and I answer as I wander to my desk and slump down in my chair. “Cathy.”

“I’m at your rental. You’re not here.”

“I stayed at The Manor last night.”