Page 10 of Viktor

“Is this thing on?” Dr. Williams joked, signaling to the orchestra to close out their piece. “Thank you, everyone. This has been a very successful evening. Not only have we come together for a celebration of the arts, but you are now part of history. The money we raised here tonight will go to expand exhibitions, bring in new and rare items. And most importantly, provide outreach programs to future generations, future artists, future art lovers like yourselves.”

Waverly clapped her hands in appreciation. As she caught Viktor’s gaze, he shot her a sexy smile and winked. What is he doing? Is he out of his mind flirting with me in front of all these people?

She nervously tapped her fingers against her thigh and focused back onto her boss. He waved an envelope in the air and the room erupted in applause.

“That’s right. One lucky winner is going to have a private showing of this rare unseen Monet. I’d like to thank our generous donor, Mr. Viktor Christianson, for this outstanding donation. Please, come up and help me announce the winner.”

Viktor waved at the crowd and quickly took his place next to the director, who handed him the envelope.

“Please. Tell us who the winner is.”

“Before I open it,” Viktor began, “I’d like to thank everyone for their support of the museum. And I’d like to give a special thank you to the curator, Dr. LaFleur.”

Waverly’s face flamed red as the applause grew louder. From the stage, Viktor smiled in amusement. Uncomfortable as an ant caught under a magnifying glass, she squirmed, and returned his smile, her eyes lit with anger.

“And the winner is…” Viktor tore the envelope open, casually nodding at Waverly. “Mr. and Mrs. Benedict Rollings.”

The well-known philanthropists, who’d made millions in the oil business, had supported the museum for nearly three decades. They smiled politely, acknowledging their prize, almost as if they’d known they could outbid anyone in the room.

Viktor handed off the microphone to Dr. Williams who addressed the crowd. “And so ladies and gentlemen, dinner will be served soon. Please feel free to mingle about the open areas of the museum, enjoy dancing and drinks. Thank you once again for opening your hearts and wallets. Well done.”

The orchestra commenced playing a Viennese waltz. Waverly breathed a sigh of relief, and tapped at her cell phone, answering a list of text messages.

No, I don’t want to go shopping.

No, I don’t want to go clubbing.

Drinks? With Jen? Absolutely.

Whale watching on Ryan’s boat? Hell yes.

Yoga tomorrow morning? I’m down.

As she lifted her gaze to look for her boss, she caught sight of Viktor, staring at her. His expression, dark and intense, caused her heart to skip a beat. Her mouth gaped open as a corner of his lips ticked upward into a sexy smile and he pointed at her.

Waverly looked around at the many people watching their interaction, her cheeks once again heated in embarrassment. As he strode across the room toward her it was as if he was a magnet, drawing her to him. Laser-beam focused on his target, he approached, ignoring all else but Waverly.

“Shall we dance?” He extended his hand to her.

Six-foot-four of pure lethal seduction towered over her. Waverly trembled, as she considered his offer. Without him laying a finger on her, she sensed his energy. She took a deep breath, aware of the consequences. The visions would consume her.

“I…um…I can’t. I mean…” She shook her head, her mind spinning. “But I need to go soon, Mr.—”

“Viktor. Call me Viktor.”

Waverly flinched, bracing for a vision as he gently reached for her hand and took it in his. Her eyes widened in relief, and she allowed him to put his arm around her waist, his fingers gently touching the small of her back.

“I can’t dance,” she fibbed.

“Everyone can dance. You just need to stop and feel the music.” Viktor smiled, and took the first steps, leading her into a waltz.

Waverly acquiesced as she relaxed into his arms. As a child, her mother and father had taught her to dance, insisting that it brought culture into an otherwise uncivilized world. She couldn’t recall how many times she’d catch them in an embrace, swaying to Motown. But this wasn’t home. And Viktor wasn’t family. He was a dangerous, albeit charismatic, vampire.

“See there, you’re doing quite well,” he encouraged her.

“I’m sorry. It’s just—” She attempted to concentrate, still shocked she was dancing with the vampire who’d saved her.

“Is this about Miami?” Viktor laughed.