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I made my way back to the car and clambered in, my limbs stiff and aching from the nasty combination of my recent injuries and the biting cold. I drove home in a stupor, only breaking out of it as the temperature gauge on the dashboard plummeted and the snow hardened into ice, forcing me to pay attention to the road.

My first instinct was to speak to Jon – obviously that was off the cards. Next was Tom, but I knew I’d be judged the second I told him about the kiss – because lips had damn well touched, and what else was I supposed to call…that?Tom already thought I was keeping things from him, and after Adam’s surprise visit, I couldn’t afford to push him any further away. Shit, he hadn’t even heard about Wyatt showing up at the shop yet – though if he’d pick up his damn phone occasionally, it might be less of an issue.

I shook my head, dismissing the idea of confiding in Tom. If I casually dropped into a conversation that I’d kissed the man whomight havemurdered his date, he’d snap. He was already on the edge.

The problem was, I didn’t do well with secrets. I had to talk things out with someone and justify myself or I’d go mad with overthinking it all.

Damn it, Jonathan. I missed him with an almost physicalache. He would have listened without judging. And considering what I’d learned about who he was, maybe he’d understand where I was coming from.

As I neared home, the golden light of the city brightening my vision, I knew I had one friend left, if I could call him that. And he might be too close to the situation.

???

The house was dark and unwelcoming when I opened the front door. Despite myself, I’d been hoping to find Tom draped across the living room sofa with a hot drink and a battered paperback – but no such luck. Instead, I wandered through the rooms, shivering in my coat, and switched on the lamps while I waited for the thermostat to kick back in.

I needed hard caffeine, but instant coffee would have to do. While the kettle boiled, I grabbed my satchel from the table and dug out the pale blue envelope and my mobile phone. I swiped away a few notifications telling me my inbox storage was full, and without stopping to consider what to say, dialled the number.

“Yes?” His cut-glass voice answered on the third ring. I almost hung up.

“Adam?” I asked tentatively.

“Erin?” I thought I heard the surprise in his voice. “Are you alright?”

In a rush, I remembered the last time we’d spoken. How rude I’d been. He probably thought I hated him. But right now, I needed the friendly guy I’d met at the café. I had to givehim a chance.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m – I’m fine. I just… I wanted to speak to you again, if it’s not… you know, inconvenient? Could—” I hesitated. “Would that be okay?”

He paused, the line crackling. “Yes, of course. You should come over. I’ll give you my address.”

Relieved, I put him on speaker while I scribbled down the postcode on the back of the blue envelope. I recognised the street name – it was a fancy neighbourhood; somewhere I’d had little reason to visit before now. Not for the first time, I wondered who Adam Locke really was.

“Thank you, Adam,” I said sincerely as I hung up. I’d have to swallow my pride to go over there. But glancing at the three empty chairs around the table, I knew it wouldn’t take too long.

???

Ipulled up on the dark street less than an hour later and quadruple-checked the address. I’d been expecting something nice, but this?Holy shit.

It was a manor. Not a house – not even a really big house. An actual, Georgian manor. Imposing symmetrical façade and all. The building itself was set back from the road, and a winding drive led up the slight incline toward it. Most of the surrounding grounds were hidden by tall hedges, broken only by huge wrought-iron gates right across from where I was parked. There was a small, ultra-modern-looking security intercom on the gate that Adam had told me to use. I knew with one glance at it – and the intimidating spikes on top of the gates – that I’d haveno chance of getting into this place without help, should the need ever arise. Hopefully, it never would. But I couldn’t help but wonder… Who the hellwasthis guy?

The last of the engine’s warmth was beginning to fade away inside my car, and I took a deep breath, savouring it. Places like this made me nervous anyway, but I also barely knew Adam – and I had mixed feelings about the things Ididknow.

I took my rare moment of apprehension and worked with it, allowing myself to speculate. Exactlywhatwas Adam? He wasn’t a vamp; I knew that much. But he ran in the same circles, and had close friends who were. The way they all talked, it sounded like they’d known each other a long time – maybe more than a human lifetime. I’d have said he was in his early to mid-thirties to look at, but in my experience, that didn’t mean much. And even amongst the supernatural, it was still rude to ask.

I got out of the car and closed the door as quietly as possible, very aware that it was well into the night at this point. Crossing the road, I couldn’t help but gawk, staring through the gate and up the driveway. A few of the windows on the second floor were lit up.

A movement by the left side of the gate threw my body into instant high alert and I froze, casting my senses out instinctively. A moment later, Adam stepped into view, surprisingly casual in torn grey jeans and an immaculate white t-shirt. I didn’t want to contemplate just how cold he must have been, with the snow still falling.

“I saw you pull up,” he explained as he opened a smaller gate set into the larger one, the iron gliding open silently. “Ishould have given you the entry code before, but I wasn’t sure you would come.”

I bobbed my head in response but didn’t speak as we walked up the crunchy gravel path to the manor. Inside, through one of a pair of colossal oak doors, Adam pointed me in the direction of a coat rack. I left my boots beside it before following him across the gorgeous, open entrance hall.

It was fair to say someone had restored this place with love, and it was clear that whoever it was knew what they were doing. I didn’t know much about architecture – I’d only ever seen homes like this that were museums – but the artist in me could tell that this restoration had been done to perfection. I’d guess the gleaming, chequerboard tiles were the original Georgian ones laid down when the place was built – though I had to admit they were more than a little treacherous to navigate in my socks.

Along the wide hallway, several tall doorways stood, mostly closed, beneath lofty ceilings and stunning plasterwork roses that I could only assume had been painstakingly restored. Other than that, it appeared to have been completely modernised. Throughout, the décor was light and warm, which gave it a homely feel despite the vastness of just about everything I could see. The faint aroma of warm vanilla scented the air, and while I’d expected to be chilly in a house of this size – especially at this time of year – I was comfortable in my jeans and t-shirt.

“Follow me,” Adam said as I stood transfixed in the middle of the hall. I nodded, barely paying attention.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Adam was the one behind the work that had been done here. Just based on his appearancealone, he seemed like he might be the type. I glanced at the designer watch on his left wrist, and the careful styling of his white blonde locks. Both told me attention to detail was important to him. And honestly, it was impressive. I’d be perfectly content if more people gave a shit about art like this – because itwasart. I was jealous as hell of his home, and my own little rented terraced couldn’t hold a candle to it.