Voss sipped, then returned his drink to the table. “You’re not a fool. You know Moldavi will blame you for her disappearance—and take the opportunity to destroy you.”
“Attemptto destroy me—and that’s no great news. You bring me no information I don’t already possess,” Dimitri replied. “You’ve interrupted my card game for naught.”
Voss settled back in his chair, once again looking like the rogue he was well known for being: heavy-eyed, half smiling, relaxed. “Ah, but thereisinformation you likely don’t possess.”
Dimitri didn’t care for the smile twitching the corners of the man’s mouth. What the Hell had brought Voss back to London anyway?
Probably the women.
It had always been the women, the pleasure, the hedonism for Voss and most others of the Dracule. And for a time, Dimitri had tried to enjoy it as well.
“Chas Woodmore was last seen in Paris, with Narcise. He’s gone missing as well.” Voss spoke with a note of satisfaction in his voice.
Ah, damnation.
Woodmore was supposed tokillMoldavi, not run off with his sister. Dimitri didn’t speak, but his gut tightened.
Voss’s information meant a variety of things, but the worst was what it meant to Dimitri himself.
It meant that his well-ordered, if monotonous, life was about to turn upside down.
It meant that his solitude, his studies, his very existence was about to be invaded by the silly, giggling, frippery-happy Woodmore sisters.
Including the maddening Miss Maia Woodmore. And her sister Angelica.
Why in the name of the Fates had he ever promised Chas Woodmore he’d be his sisters’ guardian?
Damn it all to Lucifer.
Dimitri curled his lips and darkly considered his predicament.
If Chas was missing, that meant he, Dimitri, would have only a few days to put things in order before the girls would invade his home. They couldn’t stay at their residence, not with Cezar Moldavi coming after their brother. But Dimitri wasn’t about to have them under the Corvindale roof until he was prepared to be overrun.
Damn and blast and burning bones.
He’d have to set some guards to watch over the girls until he was ready to have them to Blackmont Hall.Damn the Fates.
What the hell was it going to be like with two young,mortalwomen in his house?
Grinding his teeth, Dimitri poured another glass of whisky, then tossed it back with a big swallow. When he glanced up, Voss, the bastard, was watching him with a smirk.
He knew exactly how annoyed Dimitri was. And the man was enjoying every moment of it.
Which begged another question—perhaps the most important one of all: What did Voss expect to gain from all of this?
The man never did anything without getting something for himself.
Bloody damned hell.
1
WHEREIN MISS WOODMORE’S SERVICES ARE ENGAGED
As he admired his figure in the mirror, Voss wondered which of the Woodmore sisters would fall prey to his charm first.
It didn’t really matter which one of them did, as long as one of them succumbed and he could get the information he needed—namely, which of them had the gift of the Sight.
He adjusted the shoulders of his coat, aligning the seams, then smoothed the lapels and hem. Having been alive for more than a hundred forty years, he’d seen his share of fashions come and go—and some of them had been horrific.
