Page 1 of His Dark Vices

CHAPTER 1

Bree

Iwas worried about coming here at first.

I've been to mansions for interviews before, so it wasn't the huge estate that was worrying me. I could have at least had a reason for my unease if there were rumors, but there weren't any. There was more like a heavy feeling attached to Charlie Carter. Not publicly—everyone loves him. Rather, that foreboding fog lingered solely in my workplace, thanks to the journalist who used to interview Charlie, Sherrie.

I got sent today in her place because Sherrie refuses to write on political topics. And the last person she interviewed was Charlie.

The article she wrote was positive, so I don't think her relationship with Charlie soured. She just suddenly lost interest in what seemed to be a topic she was passionately interested in.

Which is weird.

Honestly, I get the impression that Charlie bit her or something.

After meeting him myself, I still don't know what happened, but I'm starting to get an idea.

Up close, Charlie is a little too polished. I wonder if the last journalist tried to get a closer look at him. Anyone who has the time to sleuth around can find the flaws that are surely there. I hope she didn't go that route.

It would have been an obvious mistake.

No matter what evidence she found, there's no way Shade Valley's favorite son would have gone down. They love him too much. Any excuse would have been found to explain his misdeed, and even if no one could find an excuse, all he would have to do is apologize, and everyone would move on.

He'd still be Shade Valley's favorite son.

People love who they want to love and believe what they want to believe.

My family learned that the hard way.

It didn't matter how many years my dad put in at the university or how well he supported the students. When a journalist accused him of inappropriate relations in the lecture halls, readers didn't demand evidence (it didn't exist anyway), and they didn't listen to the many students and faculty members who defended him. They readily accepted that my father was a predator.

Because they wanted to.

I don't believe for a second that Charlie is as perfect as he seems, but you wouldn't get that impression from me. We had a very pleasant interview, and I'll be writing very pleasant things about him, the way my readers expect me to. They want to be happy, even if it means lying to themselves.

Maybe one day he'll be exposed and fall from grace, but that star is going to be burning for a while.

As for me, it's time for a little treat.

The late afternoon sun greets me as I step out of Charlie's mansion, temporarily blinding me as I look for my car. It's right where I left it, sticking out like a sore thumb at the end of a line of shiny vehicles. I head over proudly to my plain gray rental, thinking about how far I've come, and slide into the driver's seat. At least I'm not driving my beat-up yellow deathtrap anymore—though I'm grateful it got me through college.

This afternoon, I'm hitting up my favorite café for a little post-interview ritual. I used to go to the Cozy Cup in college after finishing up articles for the campus newspaper. It was a little way to pat myself on the back. To remember my roots, I've kept up this ritual since I graduated.

I'm a little excited. My stomach is growling, and I'm thirsty from talking so much. I can almost taste the strawberry soda I'm going to order, but I don't know what I'll eat yet. I'll probably just go for my usual avocado toast. But maybe I can switch things up?

I crank the radio up and pull off, humming along. I try to focus on the road and decide on what I want to eat at the same time until I get to the café's parking lot. After parking, I grab my laptop bag and practically skip to the entrance, beaming the whole way. I'm in a really good mood as I breeze through the door and quickly scan the café. I'm hoping my favorite booth is empty, like it usually is. I like to think the employees try to keep it free for me, but that's probably not it. I'm just super lucky.

Like today!

The booth is empty. Well, not completely empty. It looks like there's a fresh strawberry soda waiting for me—and avocado toast! Huh. And here I thought I was annoying the employees with my presence. I guess they value me after all!

I look around excitedly, trying to catch the eye of the employee who set this up for me—and so quickly. Did they see me pull into the parking lot? But everyone seems pretty busy, rushing here and there, taking orders, or cleaning.

As far as I can tell, no one's things are at the booth, so I walk over and plop down, still trying to catch someone's eye. This is for me, right? Who else could it be for? A strawberry soda and avocado toast topped with a fried egg, my usual order, in my usual booth.

Well, it's not my booth, but itisthe one I usually sit at.

I kind of space out as I go back and forth with myself mentally and reach for the glass. Yup, that's strawberry alright. There's no way this isn't for me. I take a grateful sip and bounce a little in place as the carbonation hits my throat. Sooo refreshing! And now my little ritual is kicking off smoother than I expected.

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