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"I'm Elijah Night." He doesn't offer to shake my hand, and I'm equal measures disappointed and relieved. He's taller than the others, lean, and his light blond hair is longer and pulled back into a tie at the base of his neck. He's pale with a face that looks to be carved from marble. He pours himself into the chair with ease and grace, like a wild animal settling in.

In fact, all four brothers have an animalistic energy to them. Wild and untamed, despite the expensive suits and polished exterior.

The last brother steps forward and extends his hand, a small frown on his face. "I'm Liam Night," he says. "Welcome to The Night Firm."

He studies me with golden eyes that look like twin suns as we shake hands. He's shorter than his brothers, but only by an inch or so, which still makes him quite tall, and he has wild, dark auburn hair that is stylishly disheveled. When we touch, it's like touching fire but without the pain. A deep burning in my soul, a warmth that spreads through me. I'm melting under the heat of it, under the heat of him.

I pull my hand away as graciously as I can. "Nice to meet you."

He holds my eyes a moment longer, then takes a seat.

Four sets of eyes are on me, and I sit back down, trying not to fidget. The collective stare of the Night brothers is disconcerting. Each of them is entirely unique. Entirely original. And yet, I can feel their connection to each other. I can see the family resemblance. I can feel it in their intensity and power.

"We realize this is a bit of an unusual interview," Derek says, smiling. "Thank you for agreeing to come."

I nod. "I'm certainly intrigued. Do I now get to find out what kind of job I'm applying for?"

Once again, the most critical question I need answered is interrupted when the door opens, and a woman pushing a cart walks through. She is tiny, standing not much taller than four feet—if that—with long silver hair pulled back into a braid that rides down her spine. She wears a white robe tied around her waist with a knotted sash. Her face is lined with age and softened by kindness. Her silver eyes are clear and piercing. When she sees me, she smiles as if she's been expecting me—like we are old friends becoming reacquainted. She leaves her cart to take my hand in hers. Her skin is thin and soft, like aged crepe paper.

"It's such a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear," she says in a different accent than the brothers. More Irish than British. "I'm Matilda Night, the grandmother of these boys. If they give you any trouble, you just let me know. I brought snacks and drinks for everyone."

She gives a pointed look to her grandsons before passing out drinks. The brothers have glasses of what look like red wine. An odd choice for a job interview. She hands me a cup of tea and a plate of cookies.

"Thank you," I say, my curiosity about this job and this family ever growing.

Matilda pats my hand and shuffles out the door with the cart, closing it behind her, but not before she gives me a mischievous wink.

I pick up the tea, grateful for something to keep my hands occupied, and blow on it, then sip, surprised to discover it's chai, my favorite, with just the right amount of cream and sugar. Interesting.

"Your grandmother is sweet," I say to the silent room. The brothers exchange secret glances that clearly hold hidden layers of meaning I'm not privy to—the kind of sibling communication I used to have not so long ago—and the pang of seeing it still alive in others causes something in my gut to clench. I squeeze my eyes closed a moment, putting Adam out of my mind.

"To address your question," Derek says, "the role you're applying for here is a bit unusual."

Well, there's a shocker.

"We need someone to manage schedules, help with clients, and assist with any investigations, emergencies or events that arise."

I nod. "Okay. I mean, I'm definitely capable of doing that, but… " I pull out my resume from my bag and place it before me while he continues speaking.

"And we're not an ordinary firm. You'd be working from sundown to sunup, and our location frequently changes, so it's something of a live-in position."

"Live-in? I'd have to live here? In an office building?"

"No. You'd live in our home. With us."

"Just the four of you?"

"And our grandmother and other staff," he says.

My nerves tingle, and my flash hits me with a wave of light that makes me almost vomit. "Where is your home?" I ask, trying to mask the effects of my gift. That's what Adam always called it. A gift. "We're secret superheroes," he would whisper to me when I would cry myself to sleep every night after our father's death. "No one can hurt us."

"That's also complicated," he says.

"This is a waste of time," Sebastian says, speaking for the first time since this meeting began.

Derek looks at him. "What do you mean?"

"She doesn't even want to be here. She doesn't want this job. She told me herself. She's wasting our time. She's not qualified."