Chapter 19 #2
Girl has a point.
“You know what I mean,” I sigh, waving her off. “Something mindless. I’ve got a credit card dedicated to rounding out my wardrobe… whatever the hell that means.”
“It means buy all the pretty things on his dime,” she snickers, scooting closer and catching my hand. “You sure you’re okay?”
I force a brittle smile, nodding.
“I’m here for you, Tay,” she murmurs, her expression turning serious. “Whatever you need. Shopping, drinks… and if you wanna run away after, just say the word and we’ll disappear.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, squeezing her hand. “But no running away. Just the shopping and drinks.”
“Fine.” She flops back against the leather seat dramatically. “So, where are we headed? Somewhere fancy that gives out free champagne?”
“How else are we supposed to live out our Pretty Woman fantasy?” I tease, finally managing a real smile.
The driver merges into downtown traffic, the noise of the city wrapping around us.
Car horns, chatter, music thumping from other cars…
it’s all so loud and messy and alive that my chest actually aches with relief.
I hadn’t realized how silent and sterile the estate felt until now.
Just being out here in the real world is already making me feel more grounded.
Well, that, and Bex.
We spend the next several hours wandering from boutique to boutique– places we never would’ve dreamed setting foot in, suddenly accessible thanks to my new ‘job’.
The driver doubles as a bodyguard, trailing us from store to store and lingering just close enough to keep a watchful eye.
It’s weird at first, but we adjust. Not that we have any choice in the matter.
Bex drags me toward racks of silk blouses and soft sweaters, holding things up against me with theatrical disapproval or delight. She talks a mile a minute, filling me in on gossip from the tattoo shop, the new bartender she’s been flirting with, a rumor about a guy we used to know landing in jail…
Normally, I’d jump in to tease her or ask for details. Today, though, my mind keeps wandering. Every texture against my skin, every brush of fabric, reminds me of last night– the weight of James’ hands, the press of his mouth, the way I melted into a damn puddle beneath him.
“Earth to Taylor,” Bex calls, waving a hanger in front of my face. “You’re zoning out again.”
“Sorry,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”
“Uh huh,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
“Seriously, I was up late last night. James had this… party at the estate.”
She snaps to attention, arching a dark brow. “What kind of party, and why wasn’t I invited?”
I avert my gaze, combing my fingers through my hair as I drop my voice low. “The kind where clothing is optional.”
She gapes at me, eyes wide. “Like a sex party?!”
“Shh!” I hiss, frantically glancing around to make sure nobody’s listening in. The weekday shopping crowd dried up about an hour ago, though, and other than the lone clerk across the store and the driver lurking just inside the doors, we’re alone.
“Okay, wait, this makes so much sense,” Bex laughs, quieter now. “You look amazing. Like… disturbingly glowy. You finally got that vampire D, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer, but the heat that rushes to my cheeks says it all.
“No way!” she whisper-shouts, immediately breaking into a little happy dance. She stops when she realizes I haven’t joined in, smile fading and brows furrowing. “Wait, why don’t you look happy about this? Did he hurt you or something? I swear to god, Tay, if that asshole–”
“No,” I cut in, my stomach swooping. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?” she presses, frowning. “You can tell me.”
I hesitate, staring down at the pile of clothes draped over my arm. The truth burns at the back of my throat, heavy and shameful. Because he didn’t hurt me… not in any way I didn’t beg him to.
“It’s complicated,” I admit.
Bex exhales dramatically and throws an arm around my shoulders, steering me toward the fitting rooms. “Everything in your life is complicated. That’s your brand. But I’m gonna need you to hurry up and try those clothes on, because our timeline for drinks and girl talk just moved all the way up.”
I laugh despite myself and let her push me into a room, leaving me alone with my reflection.
She’s right– even under the harsh fluorescent lights, I look good.
Positively glowing. But as I peel off my clothes and catch sight of the bruises, I swear I can still feel James’ hands tracing my hips.
And as I examine everything I try on in the mirror, my hand unconsciously drifts to my neck, remembering the ghost of his bite.
“Well? How do they look?” Bex’s voice calls through the door, muffled but impatient.
I blink and clear my throat. “They fit.”
“Then let’s buy them and get the hell out of here.”
By the time we arrive at Cabo Cantina, the sun is dipping below the skyline, streaking the city in gold and purple. There’s already a decent crowd packed in, the low thump of bass vibrating through the floorboards and the air thick with the scent of lime and the tang of stale beer.
We claim our usual high-top booth near the back after buying our own margaritas for a change, neon lights glinting off the rims of our glasses as Bex raises hers in a toast.
“To your new vampire sugar daddy, and you being my new sugar mama.”
I chuckle reluctantly, clinking my glass against hers. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”
“Not a chance,” she grins, eyeing me over the rim as she takes a sip. “Now talk, I’ve been patient all day.”
I take a bigger gulp than I should, the tequila hitting fast on my empty stomach. “This whole thing isn’t what I thought it’d be,” I murmur as I set my glass down.
Bex tips her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “What do you mean? There’s gotta be perks to living in Dracula’s mansion.”
I snort a laugh. “Oh, there are perks. My bedroom is ten times the size of my apartment, the bathtub’s big enough to swim laps in.
And the food… Bex, I didn’t even know food could taste like that.
He’s got a whole team of chefs, plus a full staff to run the house.
I swear even the air there smells rich.”
“You sound like you’re describing heaven,” she sighs dreamily, swirling her straw around in her margarita. “Or a very fancy cult.”
“Maybe both,” I chuckle.
“So then what’s the problem?”
“James.”
She narrows her eyes, inclining her chin. “What about him? Isn’t he rich and hot and brooding in a sexy, bitey way?”
“Yeah. All of that,” I admit, heat creeping up my neck. “But he’s also… intense. When I’m with him, it’s like I forget who I am.”
Bex leans forward, concern replacing the teasing. “Forget how? Like, danger-forget, or hot-forget?”
I huff out a laugh that catches in my throat. “Both? When he’s not there, I can’t stop thinking about him, and when he is there, I can’t think at all. I mean, it’s all consensual. But when he touches me, it’s like…” I trail off with a groan, eyes rolling back. “God, I can’t even describe it.”
Her lips twitch into a smirk. “Girl, you sound addicted.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, tracing condensation on the rim of my glass.
“I think I am. To him, to all of it. The luxury, the power, the way everything feels heightened when he’s around.
I keep telling myself it’s all temporary, that this is just a job, but it’s like I’m starting to lose touch with reality. With who I really am.”
She frowns, setting her drink down with a soft clink. “That’s not healthy babe. You can’t let some guy– rich vampire or not– rewrite who you are.”
“I know.” I manage a faint smile. “I just… don’t know how to stop it. Or if I even want to.”
I hate that I just said that out loud, but it feels damn good to get it off my chest.
Bex reaches across the table for my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Then maybe you don’t,” she suggests. “Maybe you just enjoy the ride until it burns itself out. Promise you’ll keep your eyes open, though. You can play the game without letting him own the board.”
I stare down at my glass and nod slowly, letting her words settle.
She squeezes my hand again. “Hey. Look at me.”
I do.
“You don’t owe him anything beyond what you signed up for,” she says fiercely, green eyes blazing. “If it’s too much, walk away. No amount of money or orgasms or whatever is worth stressing yourself out this much.”
Her bluntness cuts through the haze like a punch. “I know,” I reply, swallowing thickly. “I just… don’t think he’d let me walk away that easily.”
Something sharp flickers in her expression. “What does that mean?”
I shake my head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. I’m being dramatic.”
Bex doesn’t look like she buys it, but she lets it go, picking up her drink. “Fine. But I swear, if this dude pulls any crap, I’ll go full Buffy on him. Wooden stake and all.”
That earns a real laugh from me, one that finally unravels the knot in my chest I’ve been carrying around all day.
“Who knows if that’d even work,” I snort, taking another sip of my own drink.
“Turns out a lot of the things I thought I knew are just myths. Did you know they eat? And they don’t burn up in the sun, they just prefer the dark. ”
“For real?” Bex gasps incredulously.
Before I can answer, the air in the room shifts. Subtle at first– like a sudden drop in temperature, a current moving against the grain. The tiny hairs on my arms rise. Laughter dims, music softens, conversation dips just enough for my instincts to prickle.
My gaze drifts toward the entrance like I’m being pulled there by some invisible thread, and there he is.
James looms just inside the doorway, a dark silhouette framed by neon. He’s shed his usual armor of formality– no tie, just an open-collared black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looks impossibly out of place in this messy bar. Too sharp, too composed, too him.
His icy blue eyes lock with mine, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
“What’s he doing here?” Bex wonders aloud, clearly noticing the shift in my attention.
I can’t answer. My pulse is pounding too hard in my ears as he moves toward us, the crowd seeming to part for him without even realizing why. His expression gives nothing away, but his gaze burns with an intensity I can’t name. Possession, maybe. Or fury, or hunger.
Or something far more dangerous.