Paradise - Part Four (The Erotic Adventures of Sophia Durant) by O.L. Casper Page A

I retrieved in Minerva that night. I was writhing with anger. I had to put an end to this. Or did I? She was leaving soon, but that was no bar to what Stafford might do to stay in contact with her. How did Isabella put up with this? Did she know anything? As my thoughts ran in this groove I caught a glint of something out of the corner of my eye.
    I looked up at the window whence the image came. It was gone almost as soon as I looked. It was a reflection of Isabella Gardner standing in the room behind me. I was terrified to my very bones. Overwhelming chills coursed the length of my spine. I was dizzy and I sat down to regain compose.
    A tap-tap came at the door. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. More chills coursed down my back. I stood slowly, half-expecting to see an apparition the other side of the door, and walked forward.
    “Who is it?” I called out, thinking it would ease the tension.
    “Mark,” came the muffled voice through the door.
    I opened the door. Stafford stood smiling.
    “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
    “Thanks for the compliment.”
    “It’s more concern than anything else.”
    “Thank you,” I said glumly, walking back in and sitting on the bed.
    “What’s the matter?”
    His voice was exceedingly kind and he did not come in.
    “May I…?” he asked, stepping forward.
    “Of course.”
    “What’s the matter, gorgeous girl?”
    “I’m tired. Not sleeping well. Like you said.”
    “I’m sorry to see that. Anything you want to talk about?”
    “Nothing. Just a whirlwind of feelings, a torrent of guilt.”
    “About what?”
    “Nothing in particular. Life.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “It’s a lady thing, I suppose.”
    This was a poor excuse. He saw right through it.
    “If there’s anything I can do.”
    “You’re fine. You’ve done incredible things for me already. I have an unbelievable life with you. I went from being abjectly poor to living in mansions. I’m not rich, but I have all the accoutrements of wealth. I don’t need to be rich. I’m too guilty already.”
    “Live without guilt. Like I do.”
    “How do you do it?”
    “There may not be a tomorrow. I think of that every day and I live accordingly.”
    “Like Frank Costello in The Departed .”
    “I haven’t seen that movie.”
    “It’s a cool flick.”
    “Look—Sophia, if you’re going to die one day, and one day we all will, then one of these days is obviously the day before our last. As we pass into nothingness, or even if we carry on as spirits, life as we know it is done and so is everything that went with it. Therefore cultivate a sense of detachment and live without guilt. Besides…you haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”
    “You’re right. I don’t believe…I have.”
    I stumbled over the last part and swallowed. I thought about the death of Emma Green as I said it, and what I wanted to do, and probably would do, to Ava Madeiros. The stupid cunt. In moments like this I used to think about the why of the matter, but I no longer did. I only considered the action. I felt bad after what happened to Emma. Especially since it had been so sloppy in the execution. But I thought I wouldn’t feel bad about Madeiros. I was an experienced killer now. Strangely though I did feel guilty over Isabella’s death. It was not my fault. But I had wished for it at one point.
    “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve done for me so far. Some of it has been risky. I’ve decided, at perhaps a personal risk to me—perhaps not—to bring you closer. To bring you into the fold. Make you an insider. I’ve used a friend in government to provide an extensive background check on you. I hope you don’t mind.”
    “Not at all.”
    I wondered where this was going.
    “Normally you need the individual’s consent to do so, but…”
    “You found a way around it,” I interjected.
    “Yes…and you came up stellar, squeaky clean.”
    “Good. Did they interview my