Page 9 of Possess Me

He dangles the key with a knowing grin. “You want to do the honors?”

I definitely do, and I hurry to snatch the key from his hand, then shoot him a sideways glance. “You do realize we already own a cottage on an island?”

“Ah, but it’s a different island. And that one’s actually on the beach. This is on a hill with a view of the beach.”

I fight a laugh. “You do know how to split hairs.”

“And this is historical,” he adds. “Totally different.” He gives me an exaggerated shrug. “But if you don’t want it…”

He plucks the key from me. I laugh and dance toward him, easily taking it back because we’re both laughing too hard to put any real effort into the game.

Once it’s safely back in my hand, I put my fist over my heart. “I would say I can’t believe you’d do something like this for me, but I know that you would. Thank you.” I slide the key into the lock and start to turn it.

“Nikki.”

I look over my shoulder, something in his voice sending a shiver through me.

“Are you sure?”

I frown. “I just told you I was. What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He sounds almost confused, and Damien is never confused. “I just—I just thought I should tell you that you don’t have to accept it.”

“Damien?”

“I left an escape clause in the contract,” he says. “If you don’t want it, we can just void the purchase.”

“An escape clause?” That’s not the way Damien usually operates. I know that he’ll always give me an out. If I didn’t want the house, he’d just turn it into a rental or hold on until the market improves and take a profit. But voiding the sale entirely…?

“Why?”

He shakes his head, something in his expression making him look almost as confused as I feel. “Just felt like a good idea. But you want it? You’re sure?”

I nod, realizing as I do that he’s taken the journal out of the inner pocket of his tux … and out of its plastic bag. He’s shifting it from hand to hand, and for a moment, I want to snap that it’s humid and to put that thing away before it’s damaged.

But I bite back the words. “It’s Vivien Lorainne’s house. You knew I’d want it, and you were right. You still are.” I grin. “I think Dr. Hart spooked you.”

He chuckles. “You know, maybe he did.”

I meant the words as an explanation for Damien’s out-of-character reaction, but now I can’t help but think about the darkness that this house has seen. This is where Vivien lived with the man who killed her. The man who bashed her over the head and stabbed her, leaving her to escape to the beach and die alone.

He denied it until the day he, too, died. Over and over, he cried out from jail that he wasn’t the killer. That it was someone obsessed with Vivien. Someone dark and evil named Basil who had insinuated himself into their lives.

But, of course, neither the police nor historians ever found such a man.

Is this a house I truly want to enter?

I hesitate, fully intending to turn back to Damien. To tell him that maybe this isn’t such a great idea. But I don’t. Instead—almost as if someone is urging me forward—I put the key in the lock and push open the door.

A chill rushes up my spine as I step over the threshold into the pitch-black entryway, with Damien right behind me, his hand on the small of my back.

And as the door closes behind us, I think I hear, beneath the creak of the hinges, a woman’s voice whispering—Nichole! Nichole! What have you done?

4

“Did you hear that?” I ask, stopping just over the threshold so that Damien has to walk around me.

He cocks his head, frowning slightly. “Hear what?”