Page 5 of Cursed
The heavy door to the club swings open, and I freeze mid-sip.
Sadie Reynolds steps inside.
She’s different here than at her office or apartment. More guarded, shoulders squared beneath a fitted blazer, dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Professional armor. But it’s what she clutches in her left hand that snares my attention—the black envelope, its crimson seal broken.
She’s accepted.
A sharp sensation unfurls in my gut as I watch her scan the room. Her eyes never land on me—why would they? We’ve never met. She approaches one of the security staff near the entrance, extending the invitation.
The bouncer gestures toward the back hallway—toward Xavier’s office.
I set my untouched scotch on the bar and stand. Xavier isn’t here yet. Won’t be for another hour, according to his schedule. This opportunity is too perfect to waste.
I move through the club, taking the staff corridor that will put me at Xavier’s office before she arrives. My pulse quickens—not from exertion but anticipation.
Three sharp knocks echo through Xavier’s office.
I take a deep breath, straightening my suit jacket before opening the door casually. Standing before me is Sadie Reynolds—five-foot-seven, dark hair pulled back to expose the elegant curve of her neck, sharp brown eyes.
She’s even more striking up close.
“Can I help you?” My voice remains cool despite the adrenaline surging through my veins.
Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. “I’m here to return my accepted invitation to the Hunt.” She holds up the black envelope. “The bouncer directed me to this office.”
“Xavier’s running late. I’m Landon Blackwood.” I step aside, gesturing into the office. “Why don’t you come in and take a seat while I check your paperwork?”
Hesitation flashes across her face—an expression most wouldn’t catch. Her instincts are telling her to maintain distance from me.
“It’ll only take a minute,” I add, keeping my tone neutral.
She steps past me into the office, her scent—subtle vanilla with notes of coffee—hitting me as she passes. No perfume. Just her.
“Please, sit.” I motion toward the leather chair opposite the desk.
She perches on its edge, with her back ramrod straight. The invitation remains clutched in her hand like a shield.
I circle around, passing closer to her than I need to. The air between us turns electric. Her pupils dilate—a physiological response.
“So, Ms. Reynolds...” I settle into Xavier’s chair, leaning forward. “What made you accept our invitation?”
The thought of hunting her through Purgatory’s labyrinth sends a bolt of arousal through me. Three days of pursuit. The inevitable capture. The surrender I’ll extract from that brilliant mind. My cock hardens at the prospect.
Her cheeks flush pink at my question, color spreading across her high cheekbones.
“My reasons are my own,” she says, lifting her chin. The defiance contradicts the blush warming her skin. “I don’t believe I need to disclose them to participate.”
I lean back in Xavier’s chair, studying her. Most women who come through that door are desperate to impress, falling over themselves to seem interesting or mysterious. Sadie’s resistance is... refreshing.
“Actually, you do.” I keep my voice even. “The Hunt requires certain assurances from both sides. We need to verify that all participants are accepting under the right circumstances—no coercion, no desperation, no ulterior motives.”
Her eyes narrow. “Where exactly in the fine print was that specified? I can assure you I read it meticulously.”
“Consider it a verbal addendum.” I tap my finger against the desk. “The Hunt is a complex arrangement. My brothers and I need to ensure everyone’s motivations are... appropriate.”
I can see her calculating behind those intelligent eyes, weighing her options. She needs this opportunity, whatever reason drove her here, but she’s reluctant to reveal her vulnerability.
“I’m merely curious,” she says finally. “About the Hunt. About Purgatory. About why anyone would design such an elaborate... game.”
