The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(13)

I glanced at Rohan who shrugged, but retrieved it from the file.

"Check out the second page," Drio said.

I leaned over the table for a better look. It was Drio's findings on his session with Evelyn. The relevant section was a detailed explanation of her possessions, including a locket with a French quote engraved on it that she'd worn around her neck. "On n'aime que ce qu'on ne possède pas tout entier," Rohan read in a terrible French accent.



       
         
       
        

I giggled.

"It means –" Rohan looked for the translation.

We love only what we do not wholly possess, I thought.

"‘We only love what we don't fully possess,'" Drio said. "Could sum up their relationship."

"We done?" I asked. "I want to go over this list."

Rohan handed over a printout of my travel details. "I'm on an earlier flight than you two. Your plane lands Thursday morning Prague time, so I want you in the hotel lobby by 2PM. I'll have Samson there so you can meet him."

"Got it." Scooping up the photos and some files, I retired to my room to figure out my plan of attack since the only thing I agreed with them on about me playing groupie was the bait part.

I spent the next couple of hours watching every video online of Samson that I could find. Didn't matter if it was formal interviews, award-show sound bytes, or party footage, I studied it all to see how he handled himself and who he surrounded himself with.

I rearranged the pillows behind my back, sitting against my headboard with my legs stretched out, computer on my lap, scrolling through red carpet snaps and Instagram pics.

Drio had reached out to Samson's posse long before Rohan agreed to do the theme song but they'd rebuffed all attempts to buddy up until learning of Drio's own entourage pedigree, prompting Drio to dub them starfuckers. He could handle them just fine. It was the women that Samson kept company with who were of interest to me. I flipped between windows at the various stills frozen there.

Two things were abundantly clear. One, he was not picking his companions for their scintillating conversation, since he didn't seem to let his dates speak. Every single one of them, from famous swimsuit models to porn stars, always clad in short, tight dresses, mutely let themselves be led around.

This led to the second revelation which was they all possessed a status that I lacked. Drio could tart me up all he wanted, but D-list strumpet wasn't going to cut it. Sadly, there was no way to fabricate any kind of fame for me. Not at this late date.

I'd have to catch Samson's interest another way.

It brought me back to that quote on Evelyn's locket. After Googling it, I learned it was attributed to Marcel Proust, which didn't help any. But the idea kept looping back through my head like a song on repeat. We love only what we do not wholly possess.

Samson worked in envy the way Michelangelo worked in marble. Was it possible to catch his interest through my utter disinterest? Not to make him love me, but to want me? Want to impress me? Physical type aside, he seemed to go for women who didn't present any type of challenge. Hot arm-candy. Not to dismiss the intelligence of his dates, but chances were, when these women were with Samson, they kept pithy insights and witty repartee to a minimum. They knew their role, lesser lights revolving around Samson's bright sun. 

Only he was allowed to be the center of the universe with everyone –dates, posse, and general public –being pulled into his gravitational orbit. I expected overt evil from a demon, but Samson wasn't forcing anyone to buy into what he was selling or do his bidding. Merely presenting himself as the de facto pinnacle to aspire to, then exploiting our all-too-mortal weaknesses for his own gain.

I pulled my blanket around my shoulders.

Right or wrong, people worshipped celebrities and would do anything to be like them. Knowing this, Samson was letting us do all the heavy lifting. Simply giving us a final nudge into the misery necessary to achieve whatever his big picture goal was. Shades of gray brilliance.

Though whether that made him a demon or a psychopath remained to be seen.

I stared at his grinning mug on my laptop. "If you're getting everything you ever wanted, Samson, then how do I make you want me? How do I become your own personal challenge to conquer?"

Evelyn had been sexy. She'd been flat-out beautiful. Smart too, I'd bet. She had a Proust quote around her neck, not a pop lyric. Had her intelligence been a turn-off? That would rule out the sexy librarian look. I searched online but couldn't find any photos of the two of them together to determine body language.