You’re a first-timer, aren’t you? Welcome, glad to have you. Can’t say I agree with your theory, but it’s a free country, right? I understand it can be frustrating that some people don’t learn from their mistakes. But do you really think the answer is to do nothing at all? Pretty harsh view, isn’t it?

Interesting comments, hope you stick around!

In his quiet office, behind a closed door, Darwin leaned back in his chair and stared at Samantha’s words. They were, he had to admit, more than he’d hoped for. He’d read them several times since they’d shown up an hour ago, searching for more-hidden messages, private meanings. Something to indicate she knew how important this interaction was.

Hope you stick around.

That said it all, didn’t it? Of course she knew.

“You never disappoint me,” he told the screen, his gaze shifting between it and her photo on the inside back cover of her book. Her beautiful face, the intelligence shining from her eyes-they weren’t a disguise for a woman with no substance. She might be naive, and foolishly kind, but she was open-minded and smart.

Smart enough to recognize a kindred spirit, even if, on the surface, their views seemed quite different.

“You had me worried for a while,” he admitted. “Keeping me waiting as you did.”

That worry had made him refresh the computer page every minute or two throughout the morning. A man not used to feeling impatient over anything, he had found the reaction disconcerting and had to leave the office for a while because he could not focus.

The delayed response had not angered him; he could never be angry at someone who took the time to evaluate all options before speaking or acting. But he couldn’t deny a moment of worry when he’d thought he was being intentionally ignored.

He would not tolerate being ignored.

Finally, she had spoken, and the weight of wondering had been lifted. It just remained to decide how-and when-to respond.

When a knock sounded, he minimized the screen. “Yes?”

His office door swung open and one of his employees entered, a subservient, wishing-to-please expression on his face. “Got a minute?”

He nodded. “Of course, Steve; you know my door is always open.”

Even though it almost never was. Not in the literal sense, anyway. But Steve wasn’t wired to think so literally. Not stupid at all, oh, no-the man was cunning. Above all, he was loyal. And these days, loyalty outweighed everything else. “What can I do for you?”

“I want to thank you for the overtime hours. I know you pulled some strings to get them for me.”

A simple phone call, nothing more, and it had earned him one more layer of gratitude from someone who might be of use someday. “It’s nothing.”

“Well, it’s something to me. The extra money’s great with the baby coming. So thanks again.”

Offering a slight smile, he murmured, “You are quite deserving. It’s nice to have people we can count on around here.”

“You can count on me!” Vehemence laced his voice, and an almost slavish devotion was visible in the younger man’s eyes. “And on everyone who works here.”

They might not be quite as supportive if they realized how thoroughly he disliked most of them. But he kept his opinions well hidden. He was as good an actor as he was a…

“Killer morning, huh?”

Appropriate terminology. Though considering he had never really killed anyone, merely set their inevitable deaths in motion, he wouldn’t bestow such a stark title upon himself. Nor was he an executioner, for the same reason. Or even a punisher-he didn’t choose to punish his victims, or to change them.

He simply wanted them gone.

“Did your meeting go okay?” Steve asked.

Knowing the man referred to the fictional meeting he had used to explain his sudden departure this morning, Darwin nodded. “Yes, indeed. Things are looking much better now.”

Much better.

“Glad to hear it. Well, guess I’ll get back to work.”

“Fine, fine.” Wanting to free up his schedule, to prepare for the evening he had planned, he added, “I do have another appointment this afternoon. It will require me to leave a few hours early today. Far too much running around, I’m afraid.”

“That’s why they pay you the big bucks!” Steve-the-sycophant said with a grin. “Have a good one, and stay warm. It’s cold out there.”

Master of the obvious.

Nodding pleasantly, he watched the subordinate leave, shutting the door firmly behind him, then brought up the Web site again. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, my dear,” he whispered. “Though you gave me a fright thinking you were ignoring me.”

Her lack of response to his comments had bothered him less during the night than it had this morning. But still, it had bothered him. Enough that, after he had posted his first two comments and seen no reply, he’d driven to her home. Seeing her car parked in one of the spots in front of her building and noting the absence of any sign of life behind the pitch-black windows of her apartment, he’d assumed she was asleep. A normal assumption, given the late hour, though he knew Samantha to be a night owl, often staying up until three a.m.

Not last night, though. She must have exhausted herself working up her useless cautionary piece for people who would never learn from it.

She had not been ignoring him at all. Samantha had simply not been awake to read his messages and realize he’d opened the most important line of communication of her entire life.

How wonderful it had been to sit outside in the night, studying her bedroom window. It hadn’t been the first time, though he wasn’t foolish enough to become a frequent visitor to this neighborhood. He satisfied his craving once a week at most.

On one occasion last summer, he had seen her moving behind the gently billowing sheers as she prepared for sleep behind an open window. He’d held his breath as her silhouette was spotlighted by the bedroom lamp before she’d flicked it off. And had continued to hold it when she moved even closer to the window to turn on the small night-light plugged in directly beneath it.

How nice that he no longer had to wonder what that night-light looked like. It was colorful, stained-glass, delicate. Closing his eyes, he could see it, as well as the pretty jewelry box on her dresser and the framed sunflower print on the wall. He remembered the softness of her bed, the shape of each pillow.

His familiarity with everything in her apartment added depth and texture to his nighttime visions as he sat outside and pictured what she was doing.

Fortunately, she had gone to spend the night Christmas Eve at her mother’s home. Because Darwin had then been able to spend his Christmas Eve indulging in a thorough overnight exploration of Samantha’s.

He had often pictured her in bed, her golden hair against the cream-colored linens, her face softly lit by the glow from the night-light. Imagining climbing inside, surprising her awake, he hadn’t known which he would want to do first: converse with her about philosophy or fuck her until she sobbed.

His body had stirred at the possibility. He had never been a man overpowered by physical needs or messy lusts. But with her, it was different. He wanted her mind, wanted to bend it, even to the point of breaking, if he had to, until her thoughts matched his own.

He also, however, wanted her body. Wanted to bend it to the point of breaking as well, if only he could satisfy the unrelenting craving he’d felt for her for so long.

“Soon,” he whispered, still smiling. “Now that we’ve begun I will most definitely be ‘sticking around.’ ”

Closer than she’d ever imagined. He’d already begun inserting himself in her life in ways she could not even comprehend. Preparing for the inevitable, when he’d have to strip away the dregs who kept her down: her friends, her family, all who prevented her from reaching her fullest potential.