“Come in,” he sighed. At least he held the door open for me. I half expected him to slam it in my face.
Though Erika had warned me about Robert’s moroseness, his scornful gaze knocked my confidence down about ten thousand pegs. I did my best to smile as I stepped into the bright light that flooded his home, fighting against the bizarre nervous spasm pulsating in my cheek. I bit down on the inside of my mouth, desperate to maintain a modicum of professionalism. I was getting paid for my efforts, after all, even if the guy was a complete jerkwad.
I acted as if I wasn’t remotely unsettled that my back was to a predator. I cursed Michael and Marlena for not providing me with a handbook on vampires. It would have been nice to read up on them prior to my date—no, decoy assignment.If he sunk his teeth into my neck, how long would it take to drain me? Was there anyone else in the house, or was I on my own with the gorgeous bloodsucker, parading around like a snack in heels? Could he smell the garlic I’d eaten last night?So many questions.
Robert shut the door and I turned around to face him. My heart raced. He was almost painful to look at, like the sun. But unlike the sun, I couldn’t tear my eyes from him, even if he hated me.
His stare traveled over me, from toes to head. It wasn’t a violating gaze—the kind a creeper at the gym will give you when he doesn’t think you can see him in the mirror—but more one of . . . what? Curiosity, maybe. Disdain? He was hard to read.
I started when he spoke.
“You’re different than I expected.” His voice was calm, even, deep. The epitome of masculinity.
“If you’re not happy, I’m sure Dignitary could send somebody else,” I responded tartly.
His eyes widened. “No. I only meant to say that you are different. I did not expect somebody so . . .”
I raised my eyebrows.
He clasped his hands, composing himself. His expression remained guarded. “All I wished to say is that you are lovely.”
“Oh,” I said, momentarily stunned by his comment.
“Can I offer you a drink?” he asked, Mr. Manners now. “We have a few minutes before we must leave.”
“Um, sure. That would be nice.”
He extended a hand toward the living room. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right in.”
He busied himself at a built-in bar as I sashayed toward the living room. Normally, I wasn’t one to sashay, but I couldn’t help it in a formfitting silk dress with a train. I still couldn’t believe I was wearing Seraphim Blythe!
My suggestive gait was not overlooked by my companion. He’d stopped toiling and was standing motionless, observing me with his tranquil grey eyes. “You’re stunning. The dress, it suits you,” he said matter-of-factly, a statement rather than a compliment. Then, unrelatedly, “I must fetch some champagne. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was out.”
Without another word, he left the room.
I floated on, feeling like a million bucks. I knew it was somewhat pathetic (okay, itwaspathetic) to let a man shake my confidence to such an extent. Nevertheless, it was a relief to know that Robert didn’t find me hideous, particularly because I categorized his handsomeness at a sex god level. This man—vampire—was the incarnation of every erotic fantasy I’d ever had, wrapped up in a ritzy tuxedo. I no longer questioned if we, immortal and mortal, were physically compatible. Iknewwe were, just like I knew my underwear needed to be wrung out.
I pinched the inside of my arm, checking myself. Unfortunately, I had Marlena’s rule to follow, so fantasizing what it would be like to have Robert inside me was the most I could do. Pity.
I laughed quietly and shook my head at my presumptuousness. How delusional was I, thinking that it I have a chance with him, anyway? He could have any woman he wanted.
In the living room, I went to sit on the sofa, but then changed my mind when I thought about having to get back up in the constrictive gown. I’d nearly faceplanted trying to get out of the car but had managed to right myself at the last second by flapping my arms at my sides like chicken. I was not eager to execute a repeat performance in front of my sexy date.Client. He was a client. It would serve me well not to forget that, given how much I needed employment that paid as well as Dignitary.
It felt unnatural just standing there, so I had a look around. Not surprising, there wasn’t a single element in the space that didn’t infer wealth. Unexpectedly, though, for every bit as modern as the outside of the house was, the inside was contrastingly antique. The walls were adorned with beautifully detailed tapestries of nude elfin women, cherubs, and demons, most depicting mythical battles between good and evil. Near the back of the room was a tufted bench about as long as a school bus, upholstered in plush black velvet. Its claw legs were carved from mahogany so smooth it could have been chocolate. A shimmering crystal chandelier the size of a sedan took center stage of the ceiling; it was suspended by a myriad of mercury-colored pearls—realpearls, probably from Tahiti or someplace as equally exotic.
My favorite thing in the whole room was an old portrait by the fireplace. The man in the painting wore a top hat, Victorian clothing, and bore an uncanny resemblance to Robert. I squinted at the signature in the corner. It was dated 1855.
Robert suddenly materialized at my side, fast and quiet. I hadn’t realized that he’d come back, and I thanked my lucky stars that I hadn’t been doing something trashy during his approach, like scrubbing lipstick off my teeth or tugging a wedgie out of my butt. He handed me a glass of champagne and I thanked him. I took a whiff. the fizzy liquid smelled expensive and perfumy.
“You aren’t going to have a drink?”
He shot me a peculiar glance. “No, I cannot drink anything but—”
“Blood,” I finished for him, giggling nervously. My voice sounded canned and unsteady, about ten octaves higher than its normal pitch. I felt my neck grow hot and suspected I was sweating visibly. I needed to calm the hell down. “Right, sorry. I forgot.”
“It is a common human mix-up.”
Desperate to change the subject, I said, “This painting is remarkable. Was this a relative of yours—a great, great grandfather, perhaps? He totally looks like you.”
