She has the good sense to look ashamed. “I swear, I haven’t! I wouldn’t even know where to find your safe! I saw her on an ad for the pole dancing studio in the village – the owner has ripped off a famous Toulouse-Lautrec poster, and it’s clearly of Arabella. And Paul Badica says he remembers her from her Parisian club. He remembers things he paid her and her girls to do to him. Depraved things, even by vampire standards. He’s telling anyone at Sanctus who will listen, and posting about her on Sepulchrr, which isn’t helping our reputation, especially not with Hamish blowing everything up—”
I stalk towards her. “What happened with Hamish Aeturnus?”
“See?” Sinead fixes me with a look that’s half triumph, half exasperation. “You’re so obsessed with her, you don’t evenknow. Aeturnus pulled his investment. He doesn’t want his name associated with acriminal. As of right now, unless you can come up with more money, Sanctus is over.”
The elevator arrives and she stomps inside. The doors close with a finalDING.
Shit.
That must be why my phone’s been going off. With Aeturnus out, we’re done. I barely have enough in the accounts to make payroll, let alone fund the next stage of the build. If only I could pay people in treasure…
Wretchedness twists my gut. I knew I was stretching myself building this place, and that I was taking a big risk by allowing vampires to pay for their homes with treasure instead of cash. I also knew that cutting out the Conclave would have consequences, but I had to do it or else everything Sanctus stands for would be a lie. How could I claim I built a sanctuary for Upyr if I let the Conclave control it?
I never imagined that Aeturnus would turn on me. The Conclave must have got to him, which means they see me as a threat. They won’t stop until they destroy this place, which won’t take them long. I’ve poured every cent of my fortune into Sanctus. I have nothing left.
I could ask Alaric for money. He has enough of it. But if word got out that he was an investor in Sanctus he’d lose any ground he’s made on changing the human–vampire laws. Callista’s out for the same reason.
Ihatethis. Why ruin something that Upyr need, something that’s been nothing but good for vampires, because you can’t have a slice of the pie?
I flop back down on the sofa, gingerly touching my crotch and thinking about how best to approach the implosion of my life’s work and my new revelation that I’m absolutely besotted with Arabella Lestrange.
Again.
Still.
Arabella hates my guts, but that’s only because she doesn’t know the truth about what happened.
But I’m nothing if not determined.
I’m Gideon Blake.
I can save Sanctus.
And… I can win Arabella back.
I just need to show her that I’m sorry I stole from her, and that we can pick up where we left things in Paris.
Not even her closest friends know her like I do. I’ve been privy to all the secrets she’s hidden from them for so many years.
She trusted me once. All I have to do is win that trust back.
Ideas begin to sprout in my mind.
How hard can it be to sweep Arabella Lestrange off her feet?
But first, I need to remind myself ofexactlywho I am.
I grab my jacket from the back of the sofa and my favourite knife from the table.
Time for a chat with a certain unworthy human.
I circle the cottage twice, my brogues crunching on Dora’s prize-winning flowerbeds as I peer in the darkened windows to be certain of what I’m seeing.
Mike is sitting at the kitchen table, alone, in the dark, staring at the kettle on the stove. The kettle is not on.
His odd behaviour is almost enough to make me get back into the Lamborghini and return to Sanctus. I drove past Spell The Tea on the way in, and spied Dora and Isis inside, sharing a bottle of wine while they stuffed herbs into hex bags. I’m pleased Mike hasn’t stayed true to his threat of stopping Dora from seeing her sister. And he certainly doesn’t look like a man who’s proud of his outburst.
But I’ve seen far too many men like Mike ruin the lives of people I care about.
