Moonstone: Gems of Wolfe Island One

But the ultimate blame rests on my own shoulders.

I grew addicted not only to alcohol, but to the power I wielded.

And with that power, I became abusive.

I pull up the camera on my phone and look at myself. The sun is out, and a glare punctuates my face. My hair is cut short and is so dark brown it’s almost black. My eyes are brown as well. A normal everyday color.

The long sleeves of my shirt cover the tattoo that used to define me.

Also underneath my shirt are scars. A bullet in my shoulder. I knife wound to my abdomen. And one to the back.

From a woman.

Luke Johnson has short dark hair and brown eyes.

But through the façade I see the real me. The long blond hair, the blue eyes, and the tattoo that starts on the back of my left hand and travels up my arm and across my left shoulder.

The tattoo that—even after laser removal—will always be with me. I’ll always see it, just like the hair dye and colored contact lenses can’t change me.

Perhaps I’m still him.

Perhaps I always will be.

A yellow cab skids to a stop.

I hop in. “The Glass House in Manhattan.”

I don’t have time to go home, which is why I wore my work clothes. I’ll be a little early for my shift, but that’s good. It’ll give me something to think about other than my fucked-up life.

I thought I could do this.

I pull out my phone, go to contacts, pull up my mother.

I could call her so easily. Just touch the screen, and she’d answer in her soft and comforting voice.

So easy…

I slam the phone back into my pocket.

No. I can’t ruin this. People put their lives on the line to give me my current circumstances.

I can’t let them down.

More than that… I can’t let Katelyn down.

Katelyn. The woman I love. The woman I don’t have the urge to control. Which means…

Which means it’s probably real love this time.

Real fucking love.

And the best thing I can do for her is to let her get on with her new life—the life she deserves.

Without me.

37

Katelyn

I’m fidgeting with my fingers as Reid leads me not to his private office but to a small conference room.

“Have a seat.” He holds out a chair and then sits down adjacent to me. A laptop is open in front of him, and another woman sits across from me—short dark hair, friendly brown eyes. “Katelyn, meet Alicia Davis, my personal secretary.”

I begin to stand but Alicia simply reaches across the table to shake my hand. “So nice to meet you, Katelyn. Mr. Wolfe speaks very highly of you.”

I clear my throat. “Thank you. Nice to meet you too.”

“Alicia is going to take notes during our interview,” Reid says, “and she’s also here because if you choose to take the position as my assistant, you and she will be working together closely.”

If I choose to take the job? Does that mean I already have it? That can’t be.

“Our company,” Reid continues, “is committed to helping all of my father’s victims make the transition into healthy and productive lives. If we can help by employing them, all the better.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s the least we can do. My wife, as you know, feels very strongly about this as well. You’re one of her favorites, Katelyn.”

My cheeks warm. “Thank you. I owe her everything. I owe all of you everything.”

“We feel that we owe you. It was our father who put you in danger, who stole years of your young lives.”

“None of that is your fault.”

“We know that,” Reid says, “but we all wonder if perhaps we should have been more vigilant. If we had, maybe we could have found out what our father was up to long ago.”

“Don’t blame yourself, please. It’s the last thing I want.”

“You’re very kind, Katelyn, and I appreciate that. I’m not so sure all my father’s victims feel the same way, and to be honest, I can’t blame them if they don’t. Let’s get down to business, then.

“Of course.”

“My assistant needs to work closely with Alicia. You’ll handle my calendar. You’ll sit in on all meetings and take notes. You’ll do a lot of traveling with me.”

“If I may ask, what is the difference between your assistant and your secretary?”

Alicia smiles.

Crap. Did I just make a humongous faux pas? I was eighteen years old when I was taken. I haven’t experienced any of life. Which means I’m not qualified for this job, and I have no clue how to conduct myself during an interview.

“Alicia’s main responsibilities are typing up documents, filing, mailing, taking phone calls. As an executive assistant, you would be her immediate supervisor.”

My cheeks warm. “Wouldn’t Alicia be a better person for this job? I could be a secretary.”

Alicia smiles. “Mr. Wolfe and I talked about that, actually, and I’m happy where I am. I’m not comfortable in a supervisory position.”