Page 6

Dr. Young lifts a finger, ready to debate me.
Asad looks like he’s on the verge of a heart attack.
I cut off the video meeting just as another round of Beethoven fills my ears. The unwelcome visitor on my porch keeps stabbing my doorbell button.
I make a mental note to install a mechanism so that anyone who presses the damn thing more than three times will receive the shock of their life.
Holy crap. I’m turning into the Grinch.
Oh well. It’s not like I’ll be around to terrorize people for long. The Ghost of Christmas Past and the Ghost of Christmas Present are already on my doorstep.
And as for the Ghost of Christmas Future? Well, it’s obvious that he won’t be hovering around any time soon.
Do the ghosts belong to the Grinch or the Scrooge story?
I’m mixing up my grumpy Christmas villains, but the point remains. I don’t like people, so it’s a bonus when they don’t like me back.
I force myself to swing the door open and face the giant man standing on my doorstep.
“Hello, Mr. Cullen,” Darrel Hastings says and I immediately want to shut the door again.
Thankfully, I’m smart enough to know that would be the wrong move. Hastings is a close friend of my investor, Richard Sullivan. The two are members of a billionaires-only club, along with a few other prominent businessmen in the city.
They meet at this place called ‘the farmhouse’. I assume it’s a luxurious underground bar that serves caviar and flecks of gold in their drinks.
“Can I help you, Mr. Hastings?” I ask gruffly.
Darrel peers at me with probing green eyes and I eventually look away. While some people are freaked out by robots and their unblinking eyeballs, I find human eye contact far more disquieting.
“Would you be offended if I told you I’m here to helpyou?” Hastings answers.
My unease grows. “If you’re here to tell me about your Lord and Savior?—”
“I’m not,” Darrel says with a chuckle.
“Oh.” My eyes shift to the scenery over his shoulder.
It’s a beautiful day with a startlingly blue sky and fluffy clouds rolling by. Trees bend their branches ever so slightly from the rough winds blowing from the west.
Huh. Since when did those trees start bearing fruit? Has it really been so long since I left the house or looked up at the sky?
“You have a very nice place,” Hastings says. I notice he hasn’t invited himself in. Is that on purpose? Is he waiting for me tooffer him a drink or something? Do I have to? Crap. I really don’t want to.
“Yes, I like it,” I say succinctly. At least that’s the truth. The first thing I did when I got my payday from Sullivan was buy an acreage miles away from the city.
Now, instead of living in a cramped apartment where I’m forced to exchange small talk with people in the elevator, I have nothing but trees and grass for company.
A housekeeper comes in once a week to deep clean and set everything the way I like it. She delivers groceries and sets pre-cooked meals in the fridge too.
I have no idea what her name is and I highly doubt she even knows mine. She never asks me questions or seems that interested in my life. As long as I pay her, she stays out of my way.
Unlike some people…
I eye Darrel again.
He stares back at me frankly. “You seem uncomfortable, Mr. Cullen.”
“I’m trying to understand why you’re here.”