The Letter by Rebecca Bernadette Mance

evening shadows of dusk already giving way to darkness. Victoria shivered and pulled her cloak closer against the thick cool fog that was rapidly rolling in from the Pacific.
    It was time to meet her date with destiny and the devil.
    And she would have to make her own magic.
    *****
    Tossing aside his pen, William leaned back in the leather chair and slid his gaze along the intricate molding that framed the ceiling. Finally, he had finished the last of his work for what had been a long day made longer by distracting thoughts of Victoria Riley.
    She had most inconveniently gone from being a problem to be solved to an obsession.
    Even though he had anticipated that she might run, he had been gravely troubled when Jack Little informed him of her harrowed flight to the train station. Yet, what else could he expect from a wholesome, good-hearted country girl after his epicurean and Lucullan proposition?
    To his immense satisfaction, she had listened to his reasonable arguments regarding her circumstances and possible solutions and had returned to the hotel. Miss Riley might be naive but she was not a fool. He held the high cards and would play them if he had to. However, he preferred her to have a willing compromise to her dilemma regarding the store and her future.
    Satisfaction that his plan and persuasion was successful in returning her to the hotel and under his control again swelled inside of him. Of course, there was no guarantee that she would fall easily into the rest of his requests. However, whether she realized it or not the fact that she returned to the hotel meant that she was ultimately going to do what he wanted. If she truly intended to deny him, she would have left on that train. All he had to do now was to remain patient. Like anything worth acquiring, she had proven to be a fascinating challenge.
    In the meantime, his need and desire for her had reached almost ridiculous and embarrassing levels for a man in his late 30’s!
    If he saw her again, he would seduce her, of that, he was certain. He would not give into the temptation to seek her out until she had made up her own mind because he wanted her to come to him on her own.
    Instead, tonight he would find relief in his paramour Lotus Blossom. Lotus would take care of this raging need for Victoria.
    Lotus Blossom was his exclusive Madame, who ran her own “business” with an army of Asian prostitutes and lived in a large house on the fringes of China Town. It was a perfect situation for a man who wanted no tangles, or attachments, or bastards, or diseases.
    He had met Lotus six years ago. She had solicited him as he emerged from his office after a late evening of work. Something about her gentle and regal manner as she tried to compel him to her bed captivated him immediately.
    Ever since that day, they had forged an arrangement that pleased them both. He took care of her, and she took care of him and no other men.
    Now he really needed her to take care of him.
    As he said goodnight to the guard who locked the office behind him and headed down the marble steps to the waiting carriage, a nagging guilt tugged at him, one that had troubled him off and on all day.
    Victoria Riley deserved more than he was offering. To him, having her in his bed was a matter of a small revenge and lust. She, on the other hand, was paying the ultimate price. A girl like her was meant for marriage and children; not for his nefarious craving.
    She was so wholesome and good, not part of his world, the world of greed, money and power. Who would she be once she was corrupted by his lasciviousness and touched by his brutally affluent world?
    What would her life be like when it was over between them?
    Damn! Was he getting soft in the head? Where were these sensitive notions of righteousness coming from? He was a Worthington. He would have what he wanted, just as he always did. She would belong to him.
    Besides, she would suffer no hardships at his hands…quite the contrary….he would