I straighten the lapels on my favourite suit, trying to ignore the pounding in my chest. “Send her in.”
Sinead appears a moment later, shoving my door all the way open. “Arabella Lestrange, I’m pleased to introduce Gideon Blake, CEO of Sanctus Industries. Gideon, this is Arabella Lestrange, our newest resident. She’s here for her grand tour.”
Sinead could be reciting the ingredients of Reginald’s closely-guarded hot chocolate recipe and I wouldn’t even notice. From the moment she strides into the room, Arabella has my full attention.
Every inch of this woman is pure sin. Her hair is shaved close to her skull, revealing the shapely curve of her neck and the place where her clavicle dips. She wears a crimson suit with tailoring so sharp it could circumcise a man. Her shirt jacket has only one button, revealing a plunging neckline and… nothing else. She’s wearing nothing underneath but a mesh bra covered in a design of coiled snakes.
This… this is a trap. It has to be.
My enemies at court have sent her to undo me.
“We’re already acquainted.” Arabella bites off each syllable like the testicles of all the men who’ve wronged her. Thankfully, there doesn’t look like there’s space in that suit of hers to hide one of Alaric’s blades. “Gideon. It’sfascinatingto see you again.”
Her lips curl back into a dangerous half-smile as she stretches out her hand to me. Her nails are painted in a glossy crimson to match her suit, and each of them is sharpened to a point.
I’d prepared myself for every eventuality, but notthis. Not this beguiling creature. Not the courtesan with the seductive smile tugging on the corner of her lip.
I might almost believe this is the Arabella from 1879, the Arabella she became when we wandered the streets of Paris, anonymous in the crowd, or when the lamps were put out and it was just the two of us arguing over a game of backgammon. The Arabella she was when no one else was watching.
But that’s impossible, because I know therealArabella, and now that she knows she didn’t get rid of me, she’ll be keen to finish the job.
So what is this?
And why do I want it so, so much?
“You haven’t changed a bit.” I take her hand. Instead of shaking it, I bring it to my lips, brushing them lightly across her knuckles, giving her skin the tiniest of scrapes with my fangs. She doesn’t react at all. “You’re just as ravishing as ever.”
“I think you’ll find I’ve changed,” she says.
“Is that so? Then I look forward to learning about the new, moreforgivingyou.”
I am trying very hard to keep my eyes on her face. It’s quite difficult with the plunging neckline of her suit jacket and the way she folds her impossible legs into that perfect triangle as she sits opposite me, but I’m managing.
Mostly.
“I’ll leave you to your tour.” Sinead’s voice drips with boredom as she closes the door behind her.
I’m alone.
Alone in a room with the woman I’ve grieved every day since the night I left her.
Alone with a woman who would be well within her rights to castrate me.
I am so dead.
“So…” I flatten my hands against the table. “Drink?”
She lifts one of those sharp eyebrows. “Do you make a habit of drinking on the job, Gideon Blake? You certainly have changed.”
“I’m offering the finest blood on the market. I still don’t drink alcohol. My clients are here to enjoy the finer things in life, and that includes sharing a glass of blood in public without worrying what humans might say. Would you like fresh or will a vintage suffice?”
“Vintage, please. I find fresh so… messy.”
I pour two glasses from the bottle on my desk. This is a drop Alaric gave me to celebrate his engagement to Winnie – a fine nineteenth-century railroad worker, all peaty and full-bodied. I lean across the wideexpanse of my oak desk, which today feels not nearly wide enough, and hold out the glass to Arabella.
As she reaches across like a scandal in motion and takes the stem in her delicate fingers, her skin brushes mine.
A frisson ofsomethingdescends my spine. Hatred or fear or wanting… I can’t decide which. Perhaps all three at once.
