Thirty-Six
O ne million dollars.
I nearly choked at the thought. I couldn’t imagine such a sum, and I couldn’t believe that Lucas actually had that money. There was no way. Was he really willing to lose any savings he must have had? Was he willing to put up his stakes in the company? Such a high reward would mean he needed me back, that maybe he actually cared. But I knew he didn’t. It had to be something else—and it was unlikely Wright really cared that much. He could probably find another woman here or in England that would want to manage his house in return for that comfortable lifestyle.
One million dollars. To get me back.
I swallowed the lump in my throat .
“If I didn’t love you, I’d turn you in myself,” Flora joked, not noticing my silence. “I’d break you out again, of course. And we could run away with the money!”
I shook my head, mostly to myself, turning the information over and over. “That can’t be right.”
“What, the money?”
“He wouldn’t—”
“Maybe he’s had a change of heart, a coming-to-God? Maybe your mother finally smacked some sense into him.” Flora shrugged. “He’s not going to have to shell out the money anyway, right?”
I’d been at the party a few days prior. How many people had seen me? How many people had caught me with Vince ? They’d know exactly where to find me. And if Lucas found out about Vince, about Adam , I knew his threats to lock me away somewhere were more likely to become reality.
I ran a hand down my face.
“Dixon wouldn’t—”
“No!” Flora nearly rose from her seat. “Why would he send you back to your brother for a measly million?”
One measly million .
“You know how much he doesn’t like Vince.” I sighed, standing and wiping my palms down the front of my dress. “I have to go tell him.”
“Who?”
I raised a brow. Flora’s concern changed to excitement in one second, and she joined me as I walked toward the door. “Does this mean I get a tour? ”
“I was going to show you around anyway,” I grumbled, linking my arm with hers, just like old times.
The only place I knew to look was his private study, the one Sinclair had led me to that night weeks ago. My memory of the layout of the house was still fuzzy, but when we turned down the hall, I recognized the statues against the wall, the portraits hanging, watching us as we walked past. The hall was silent, except for Flora’s gasps and our footsteps.
As we approached, the door swung open. Like he heard us coming. Perhaps another advantage of his species.
Vince stood, waiting. When he saw Flora, I swore his eyes flashed. But he plastered on a smile and held his arm out for me, pulling me to him.
“Hello again,” Flora beamed at him. Bright as always.
The room was the same—a fire burning to chase away the chill, the curtains drawn closed still, no breakfast, only glasses of a deep red liquid set on the table. And Veronica, sitting on one of the couches, silent as we entered. We must have been interrupting something, because papers were scattered across the table, which she cooly reached for and pushed together in one pile when she saw us.
“I hope you’ve been—oh.” Flora’s words to Vince were stilted once she realized there was one more in the room.
“Flora, this is Veronica,” I said, suddenly feeling out of my element. “And this is… Vince.”
To my surprise, Flora didn’t react to the change in name, only crossed her arms and quirked a brow at the man she used to know as Adam. She sized him up. And he let her look her fill, her eyes landing on the glinting Rolex at his wrist, the golden cufflinks, the pinstripes on his pants, the dark, expensive suit jacket laying on the couch.
“You look different,” she said simply.
He blinked.
Flora turned to me. “Doesn’t he?”
“I—”
“And you look marvelous, as always,” he said, letting the charm seep into his voice. Sending me back in time, to the first moment he’d met her at one of our lunches, before dragging me into an alley and ravishing my neck with his lips. “It’s like you haven’t aged a day.”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the flattered smile that pulled at her lips. “Don’t try too hard,” she said.
“Can we help you with something?” Veronica spoke up, pressing her lips into a thin smile. Her dark eyes gleamed with annoyance, and it was an odd feeling being on the receiving end of her ire. If Vince and Sinclair and Séra tamped down their preternaturalness in an attempt to play human, Veronica felt no need. Her shiny black hair was cut in a sharp bob, her high cheekbones and shadowed eyes giving her the appearance of a statue. “We were in the middle of something.”
I turned to Vince. “Did you see what Lucas said? In the paper—”
“This?” Veronica grabbed one of the many newsprints on the table and handed it to me. “We discussed it earlier,” she said, giving Vince a pointed look.
I grabbed it from her, the delicate print crinkling in my fingers, the ink greasy against my fingertips.
REWARD FOR FOUND SOCIALITE .
Lucas Quintrell, owner of the Quintrell Company, is announcing a One-Million-Dollar Reward for the return of his sister, Helena Quintrell, who has gone missing after leaving the city to visit family. Quintrell says that his sister is likely somewhere in the state, and any information as to her whereabouts will also be rewarded.
It was a warning, more than anything. That I had to watch my back, that he would get his hands on me again.
He knew I would see it. It was like he was talking directly to me.
“And?”
I felt panic rise in me, but glancing at Vince, he seemed unbothered.
He shrugged. “What of it?”
“Were you not going to say something?”
“You saw the paper, did you not?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “And what did you two discuss ?” Glancing at Veronica.
He only grinned at my frustration, at the hint of fear creeping into my voice. I was trying to keep it together, to not worry about my brother, but being kept in the dark about what concerned me didn’t bode well. Vince reached for me, a placating smile pulling at his lips. “So angry,” he said, amused. “I like it when there’s fire in you.”
“I’m being serious. ”
Veronica sighed. “Perhaps we should leave you two to talk?”
“Perhaps that would be best—” I began, but Vince waved her off. “What’s there to talk about?”
“ What’s there to talk about ?” I shook the paper at him. “There’s a manhunt for me!”
He again didn’t seem to understand. But some realization dawned on him and he laughed. “Are you afraid you’ll be found?”
As though the notion were ridiculous.
He shook his head to himself, leaning in closer to me. “You won’t be found,” he nearly purred. “Not if I don’t want you to be.”
I was at a loss for words. A small part of me, the tiny part that still felt like that young girl, shivered at what he’d said, caught up in this notion that I was protected, that nothing could reach me again. The princess found her prince charming, her knight in shining armor.
But a larger part of me, the part that still felt like I was under Lucas’ claws, however indirectly, was beginning to feel frantic, like I had to run .
“Do you not remember…?” My voice cracked.
I saw the mirth leave Vince’s eyes.
He directed his false smile at Veronica. “Maybe a moment would be a good idea.”
With a roll of her eyes, she led Flora out into the hall, a delicate hand to my friend’s back. Flora glanced at me. I felt it, but I couldn’t turn away from Vince, couldn’t do anything but stand there with my hands in fists at my sides. When the door snick ed shut behind them, Vince’s smile faded. He studied me, adjusting his sleeves, turned partially away from me .
It was the first moment I felt I didn’t know what he was thinking.
“Do you have no confidence in me?” he said, utterly unreadable.
My mouth dropped open, a spear to my chest. “Excuse me?”
He lifted a shoulder, making a slow circle around the couches, toward a cart with a decanter and glasses. “It’s just that—and correct me if I’m wrong— you wanted to run away. Yes?”
I nodded, biting my lip.
“And you came to me.” He looked up at me. “Yes?”
I nodded again, suddenly feeling like I was in an interrogation. Like I was being questioned for my actions, like maybe I’d done the wrong thing. My teeth bit into the flesh of my lip harder, drawing pain and the taste of iron.
He was in front of me in a second, grabbing my fists in each hand, soothing my fingers open, thumbs brushing against the half-moon indentations from my nails. “And yet you’re still so scared.” He cocked his head to the side, a lock of his auburn hair falling over.
I was so scared .
He searched my face. “You don’t have to be frightened anymore, Helena.” His palm came to rest on my cheek, and I’m not sure if it was a supernatural compulsion or just the familiar comfort of his touch, but the weight of everything finally surfaced, and I felt tears build in my lashes.
I growled in frustration, wiping my eyes.
“Ah,” he said, his thumb swiping my cheekbone.
“I’m tired of this,” I said, unable to speak above a whisper. “I’m tired of feeling like there’s a demon looming over my shoulder. ”
“Not a demon anymore,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. “Just a vampire.” And he leaned forward to press his lips to my forehead.
My fists bunched in his shirt, and he didn’t seem to care that I was wrinkling the expensive fabric.
“You can let go here,” he whispered to me. “You don’t have to worry about him or anyone else from the outside. Just worry about me . Worry about us . I will take care of the rest.”
I looked up at him through my blurry vision, wondering just how he would take care of it if someone reported they’d seen me. If Flora accidentally let it slip somewhere. If the cops showed up with guns blazing— Could a vampire even survive a gunshot?
I shut my eyes against the light of the room.
“Remember what I said, my darling.” I felt his lips on me once more. “I’d burn the world for you.”
I pulled away. “What if I want to burn it?” Burn my family’s legacy, burn Lucas. Burn Wright Highsmith and his stupid estate down.
He grinned, a dark glint to his eye, his teeth gleaming in the lamplight. “Then I’ll give you the match and watch.”