“Yeah, I would.” Bonnie laughs. “I wouldn’t go. No matter how much you tried to make me.”
“You know what, Bonbon?” Mom sighs and pointedly uses her index finger to lift the skin on her forehead to prevent eleven lines. “I think now is the exact perfect time for you to get dressed and ready to go shopping with us. Otherwise, I’ll end up needing an additional bottle of Botox at my next appointment.”
“Speaking of creepy, Botox is, like, really bad for you, Mom. It’s—”
“Bonnie!” Mom cuts her off and points toward my bedroom door. “Go get ready.”
“Gawd.” Bonnie flops off my bed dramatically. “This feels like oppression.”
My mom ignores her this time and smiles over at me. “You think you can be ready in about an hour, Blair?”
I smile. “Definitely.”
When they leave, the room goes quiet again, and I sit on the edge of my bed, picking the vampire doll back up and turning him around in my hands. The eyes catch the light and shift—green deepening into dark violet.
And instantly, my mind flashes back to last night.
To the man with the blond hair and green eyes who was watching me from across the room. I spent a lot of the night hoping he’d come and talk to me, but he never did.
Something uncomfortable rolls in my stomach, but I ignore it and shove out of bed, heading into the bathroom to turn on the shower.
But before I can hop in, my phone chimes on my nightstand with a text message.
Holland Thorne: Morning, Blair. Hope you’re feeling as incredible as you looked last night. Did you have a good time?
A smile tugs at my mouth before I can stop it. Holland Thorne is someone my parents have known for a few years. He’s a vampire and holds an important position as a lawyer in theentertainment industry. He’s only a few years older than me, and most of his clients are elites.
He’s kind of a middleman for the elites, so to speak.
Holland: Everyone loved you. And Damien? He couldn’t stop talking about you.
I smile as I type quickly.
Me: He talked about me?
I’m so tempted to ask more details about Damien, but I know that’s not appropriate. That’s not how these things are done. It’s all very hush-hush.
Holland: He noticed you, for sure. And, trust me, that’s not something he does casually.
Damien is reserved—yes—but that just means when he chooses, it’s significant. And if he spent most of last night talking to me and he even talked to Holland about me…thathasto be a good thing.
Still, my fingers hover over the screen, and I find myself sending him another message.
Me: Were there…others? Any other men asking about me?
The reply comes fast.
Holland: Quite a few. You made an impression, Blair. So many men have you at the top of their list.
My heart does a silly little dance inside my ribs, and I glance down at the doll in my hand before I start typing another message.
There was a man with green eyes and blond hair last night. He was wearing a black suit. Do you happen to know him?
But just before I can hit send, I delete the whole thing. It would be overstepping a serious line if I inquired about a specific elite vampire like that.
Don’t be stupid, Blair, I tell myself, setting down my phone and forcing myself into motion instead.
Shower, makeup, hair, I get myself ready for the day.
