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“Don’t invite me, then,” I manage to say even though my throat is so dry, it hurts. “But I still need to know what to pack. Jeans, a suit… what?”
His gaze flicks over me. “Clive will know what you need. Tell him I want him to arrange for you to have a haircut, too.”
My hand lifts to touch my head before I can stop it. Sure, I’m a bit late for my usual visit to the barber, but my hair’s not that long. “No, thanks.”
“It wasn’t a request, Adam. You’re beginning to look unkempt.”
My mouth falls open, and I sputter indignantly.
“Go. I’ll be very displeased if we have to wait for you.”
I snap my mouth closed so fast that my teeth click, then stomp toward the door. I want to say something sharp and witty, but my brain’s blanked on me. I’ll probably think of the perfect comeback in a week.
Meanwhile, there is absolutely no fucking way I’m getting a haircut.
Chapter 21
This is my first time travelling with Tristan. He’s had to make a couple of trips since I started working for him, but they were all day trips, and the only reason I even knew about them was because he moved the time of his evening feed to later.
So I don’t think I can be blamed for my confusion when Anna drove us to Essendon Airport instead of Tullamarine. I’ve never even been to Essendon Airport before—why would I have? It’s where regional airlines, corporate jets, and super small planes live. Most commercial flights leave from Tullamarine, or a few from Avalon.
That’s when I remembered Tristan saying something about a pilot and realised I was about to take my first ever flight on a private plane. My first thought was to wonder who I could video call from on board, and sadly the answer was no one—except maybe Cat. Most of my friends think I now work as the junior assistant to a rich guy. I kept the details vague, and I’m pretty sure Ladi, at least, thinks I’m working for an underworld figure. He dropped some heavy hints about rewatching Underbelly.
Anyway, private planes? Fucking insane, man. I’ve seen them on TV a million times, and I still gawked like an idiot when I stepped inside. The whole flight, I wanted to run around the cabin and explore everything. I didn’t, but mostly because Clive was sitting next to me and every time I so much as twitched a finger, he glared. I think if I’d tried to get up, he would have full-on tackled me.
But now we’re in yet another expensive black SUV—I haven’t worked out yet if Tristan really likes black or if he just prefers to be subtle—crawling through Sydney traffic on our way to Tristan’s place.
“Where’s the house?” I ask. I have zero familiarity with navigating around Sydney, having never been here. I’m aware of how weird that is, considering that my parents grew up here and Melbourne is only a short one-hour flight or eight-hour drive away. Maybe this will be my chance to check out the city. I could even try to set up a meeting with my grandparents—I should ask Cat for some phone numbers. I’ve heard lots of good things about grandparents adoring and spoiling their grandkids, and I’m not opposed to being adored.
Anna meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Potts Point. Why?”
I shrug. “No reason. Maybe I’ll visit my family while I’m here. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them in person.” Like, never.
Clive, who’s sitting beside her in the front, turns around to give me a suspicious glare. He’s been huffing and puffing ever since I told him Tristan wanted him to oversee my packing and he got a look at my wardrobe. What with all the work I’ve been doing to learn about vampire society, I never got around to shopping for clothes like I planned to. Today’s reason for me being in his bad books is that my clothes aren’t suitable for socialising as Tristan’s feeder, and I didn’t tell him before. How was I supposed to know? I think my clothes are fine.
Anyway, he stormed out of my room with his phone to his ear after telling me he was going to order some things and I’d try them on or else. Is it a tiny bit weird that I kind of like riling up Clive? It’s like teasing a sibling, except I’ve never had a sibling and don’t know what that’s like. Plus, Clive’s at least thirty years older than me and would probably hate it if I said he was like a sibling to me.
Hm. Something to save for another day.
“You’re needed today for fittings,” he reminds me, and Tristan turns his head to look at me.
“For what?” I ask. Fittings? Huh?
Clive’s eyes narrow. “Your new clothes are being delivered and need to be tailored to fit.”
“Whoa. You just said I had to try them on, not anything about tailoring. Do I look like the kind of guy who has his clothes tailored?” What does that even mean, anyway?
From the seat behind me, Pierce clears his throat, and Tristan swings his head away to look out the window, but not before I see the tiniest curve of his mouth. Clive’s gaze skims over me, and his lip curls.
“You do not, but you will. Tristan has a standard to maintain.”
I roll my eyes but give in. Anything to make my “big brother” happy, though I don’t know what’s wrong with my clothes. I have nice pants and a few going-out shirts—those should be fine for whatever the fuck socialising we’re going to be doing.
“Fine, I’ll stay home today. But you can’t keep me locked up with tailors for the next two weeks.”
He sniffs and turns back around in his seat, ignoring me. I’m not sure if that means he’s planning to keep me locked up or he doesn’t care what I do after I’ve been tailored. Whatever, I’ll find out soon enough.
Meanwhile, I pull out my phone, open a browser window, and type in “Potts Point.” I’m not surprised to see that it’s an expensive suburb on the harbor, close to the CBD, but I am surprised to read that it’s trendy. Busy nightlife and food and drink scene. Not the kind of place that appeals to Tristan at all. But then, he probably bought it a hundred years ago or something.
