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“Wonderful,” Nisha is saying. “We’ll⁠—”

“Great to meet you,” I interrupt, my voice clear and loud. “Tristan, is it? I’m Adam Barale.”

Tristan stiffens slightly, but everyone else full-on freezes. The horror on Cat’s face tells me I just fucked up again, but seriously, how? It’s not like I actually called him on being a rude prick. I just introduced myself.

Okay, yeah, it was passive aggressive, but still.

The great vampire snob Tristan turns to face me, still just as expressionless as before. “Adam Barale, you said?” The slight emphasis on my surname, like he doubts I could belong to such a superior feeder family, doesn’t escape me. Neither does the faint British accent, or the warm, melodiously deep voice.

“Yes. And my mother is a Stewart.” I smirk, glad that Cat threw in that little bit of trivia about Mum’s family also being generational feeders.

Dark brows lift slightly. “Quite an illustrious heritage.” Left unasked but heavily implied is how two prominent families produced me.

I fucking hate this guy.

So I plaster on my sunniest smile. I’m going to milk him for every cent and benefit I can get. “Oh yeah, for sure. Hey, is there Wi-Fi here? Because I play Fortnite with some friends every Thursday night, so I gotta be able to get online.”

Someone sucks in a breath—probably Cat. Do vampires even need to breathe?—but I don’t take my eyes off Tristan. He’s still studying me with that bland expression, and then I swear the corners of his mouth curve up. It’s over too soon to be called a smile, but at least it’s proof he’s not a robot.

“There is Wi-Fi,” he confirms. “Pierce will give you the password when he shows you your rooms. A moving company will attend your home this afternoon to assist you with bringing your things here. I understand you’re going to the Association once you leave here?”

A moving company? I don’t have that much stuff—it’ll all fit in my shitbox car. “Yes,” I say instead. If he wants to pay for fancy movers, I won’t argue.

“I’ll ensure they have your contract for review by the time you get there.”

I try to work out where the trap is in that sentence. Cat said the contract would likely be a standard one, so why would anyone need to review it? But on the other hand, if he’s planning to put anything dodgy in there, why would he send it to the feeder union to be reviewed? This guy is either super sneaky in a way I can’t work out, or he’s completely aboveboard. I wish I knew which it was.

In the meantime… “Thank you.”

He nods once. “Clive runs the house and will see to your needs. He’s been a member of my household for a long time and answers only to me.” There’s a warning there, but I don’t plan to be a dick to the person who’s going to cook for me, so I smile and nod.

“No problem. I just want to do my job, not interfere with his.”

“You are, of course, free to use your time as you wish, but I frequently hold meetings here and require noise to be kept to a minimum.”

I shrug. “I have headphones.” They’re shitty Kmart ones, but once I get my first pay, I can splurge on something good.

“There will be a car and driver at your disposal⁠—”

“Nah, thanks, but I’ve got a car,” I assure him. “Don’t worry, I don’t need a garage space. Will I need a council permit to park on the street?”

Finally, he seems taken aback. It’s not obvious from his face, but he pauses for a second before answering. “There’s off-street space available for you to park. However, I would prefer that you not go out alone. Anna can take you anywhere you need to go.”

Huh? “Uh, yeah… what? Why can’t I go out alone?”

“I will rely on you to feed,” he reminds me, like that’s something I could forget. “It would be a simple thing for someone to strike out at me through you.”

My jaw drops open, wide enough that a whole colony of flies could fly in. Either Tristan’s really up himself or he’s a VIP, and I don’t have a fucking clue which it is.

“Yeah, right,” I manage. “Sorry, forgot that. I’ve been working with humans for a while. Uh… I’m sure”—fuck, what name did he say?—“Anne and I can work something out.”

“Anna,” he corrects, and I nod.

“Right, Anna. I’ll be honest, there’s probably gonna be times I go out alone, but we can come up with a system so you don’t have to worry about people using me against you. Maybe you can track my phone.” Ugh. Not my favourite plan.

He studies me for a few seconds, then says, “We can discuss options when Anna is present. She’s a trained security officer.”

Holy fuck, who is this guy?