Chapter Twenty-Two
MINA
“Not the time for second thoughts,” Henrik hissed, looming over the limo door. Beyond him, party lights sparkled and guests chatted.
I clutched my ridiculously overpriced purse, harboring not just second but third, fourth, and fifth thoughts. Not that I had much choice now.
I did my best to slide, not trip, out of the limo — one that had picked us up at a pricey hotel, not our base at the finca, in order to better cover our trail. Henrik reached down, helping me out with his cold, clammy vampire hand.
My skin crawled, but I forced myself to wind my arm through his.
For Dad, I told myself. For art lovers everywhere.
I teetered on my heels, grimacing. Plan B — making a run for it — was definitely out.
I pasted on a smile, lifted the hem of my dress, and followed Henrik up the stairs of the imposing villa.
Prudence told me to focus on the marble stairs, because death by high heels was a distinct possibility.
But the villa was practically a palace, all glass planes and sleek lines, and I couldn’t help gaping at the stunning clifftop views.
The setting sun cast glittering orange and red lines over the Mediterranean.
The clear, clean notes of a string quartet drifted skyward, welcoming guests to the party.
It ought to have been beautiful, but all I felt was foreboding.
Henrik mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, “Focus. It’s showtime.”
Showtime was right, with everyone dressed like they’d come straight from the Oscars — including whoever had arrived in the helicopter standing on a pad at the far end of the property.
Dressed to kill, I reminded myself. According to Roux, the guest list included arms dealers, mafia bosses, and crooked politicians.
“Welcome, welcome,” the man at the top of the stairs greeted the couple ahead of us.
Ronald Baumann, I presumed. Roux’s photos were a little dated, but otherwise on the money.
Hugh Grant’s evil stunt double, Bene had quipped, and he was right. The features were a one-for-one match, minus the goofy charm.
The woman ahead of me curtsied, and I panicked. Was I expected to curtsy too? How the hell did one curtsy anyway, especially in heels? It was all I could do to keep my center of gravity over the damn things when I was upright.
Henrik flashed a little fang and tightened his grip on my arm. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, darling.”
I stuck an elbow in his ribs. “And I have wooden stakes up both sleeves, darling.”
The couple proceeded into the house, and the host turned to us with a smile.
“Ronald Baumann,” he said, shaking Henrik’s hand.
“Henrik van Hoerde,” my “date” replied smoothly, then motioned to me. “Miss Maria Orlemann.”
Baumann’s eyes lit as he looked me over the way one studied a nude statue in a museum — pretending not to be interested but leering on the inside. That included a long, hard look at the scarf around my neck — a last-minute addition by my stylist, Delphine.
You’re posing as a vampire’s date, she’d explained, all matter-of-fact. And vampires’ dates get marks on their necks. So…
My skin crawled.
We couldn’t be sure Baumann would peg Henrik as a vampire at all, especially since he’d doused himself with expensive cologne. But I had to look the part in case Henrik’s cover was blown.
Baumann took my hand — literally took it before I even offered — and grazed his lips over my knuckles.
“Isn’t she lovely,” he murmured to Henrik.
My fake smile threatened to slip, but I managed to keep it glued in place, mainly because the alternative — kneeing him in the balls — wouldn’t get us any closer to our objective.
Also, I would topple down the stairs if I tried kneeing anyone while perched on suicidal heels.
I caught the barest whiff of a canine scent in Baumann.
Wolf shifter, Bene had said. An especially nasty one too.
Baumann’s eyes traveled back up my body, and when his eyes met mine—
Boom! I was hit by an out-of-nowhere, brushed-by-moonlight moment that opened a door on his soul. And, yikes. If I had any misgivings about this mission, they vanished, because all I saw were evil and greed.
Briefly, I wondered which of my ancestors that power stemmed from and what else they could do. Mostly, though, I clutched Henrik’s arm. Even a vampire was better than Baumann.
“Enjoy the party,” our host said, turning to his next guests.
And just like that, we were in. But boy, was I nervous.
“Now what?” I whispered to Henrik. “How do we get an invitation to wherever the art is?”
Henrik smirked. “Patience, ma belle. Patience.”
He looked around, oozing old-world mannerisms and…well, charm would be an overstatement, but there was a certain appeal in his aloof bearing. Women were already eyeing him like he might be titled nobility. Duke this, Prince that, or even Your Highness. And hell, he might be.
“Champagne for you, senor? Senora?”
I nearly cheered at the familiar voice. Bene!
Henrik was about as comforting to have around as an arms dealer, but having Bene around helped. Marius would be even better, but Bene was a good start.
The lion shifter’s eyes danced, but he kept his expression neutral, reminding me to do the same.
“Or would you prefer sparkling water?” He held out a tray, jerked his eyes to the right, and dropped his voice.
“Dobrov is the short guy in blue at three o’clock.
He arrived with three big crates, which are in the library.
” He jerked hiis eyes the other way. “Down that hallway, third room on the right. Two guards.”
Henrik nodded crisply, taking two champagne flutes and handing me one.
I frowned, staring into it. “What if I wanted water?”
Henrik shrugged, raised his glass, and sipped.
I held my glass in front of his face and gave it a little shake. “I won’t throw this at you now, but who knows?” I smiled sweetly. “I might get my chance back at the chateau.”
Bene chuckled. “Watch your back, buddy.”
Henrik motioned with his champagne. “Shoo, kitty. Shoo.”
Bene waltzed off, unperturbed. Henrik took another sip and glanced around, haughty as ever.
I stood at his side, waiting. And waiting and waiting…
Finally, I nudged Henrik. “What now?”
Another disinterested sip. “Patience.”
Not my strong suit. I looked around and piqued my senses. Most of the guests were human, with a few scattered supernaturals, each of whom kept a low profile. A wolf shifter here, a vampire there…
My heart pounded. If only I had more of my ancestors’ powers! But even if I did, I was never going to outfight, outfly, or outmagic anyone. I could only maximize what I had, like brains, cunning, and art knowledge. Not exactly Marvel-comic superpowers, but hey. I wasn’t about to give up now.
I scanned the room for a better look at Dobrov, but I spotted Marius first. A rainbow arced over my soul, and my heart leaped. If I hadn’t exercised supreme self-discipline, I might have jumped up and down.
He stood against a wall between a catering table and a ceiling-high palm, looking all the world like a secret service agent in his dark suit.
When our eyes met, a mix of heat and ice shot through my veins.
Heat, because Marius was Marius, and my body reacted that way every time.
Ice, because his look was that cool and detached.
Henrik chuckled, and I glanced at him, annoyed.
And, oops. In the next split second, I learned Lesson One about undercover work with a vampire. Never, ever turn to face him without your guard firmly up — as in up in the stratosphere. Otherwise, you might get dragged into a smothering kiss.
Make that a superglue kiss, because it took several seconds of struggling to break loose. I raised my hand to punch him, but he grabbed it.
“Now, now, darling,” Henrik chuckled. “Remember, you have to look the part.”
The air pressure in the room spiked, and a growl sounded in my mind.
I turned, spotting Marius, and boy, did he look furious.
I will kill him, I swore I heard him snarl.
Yeah, well. Get in line, I grumbled, then shoved Henrik. “Stop provoking him.”
His eyes glittered. “Most fun I’ve had this century.”
By some miracle, I hadn’t spilled my drink, and I held it up in a mock toast. “Until the day — very, very soon — when you get roasted by dragon fire or staked in the heart. Cheers.”
He had the nerve to laugh and touch his glass to mine a second time. “Cheers, ma belle.” But something over my shoulder caught his eye, and he frowned.
Following his gaze, I found Roux and Delphine across the room. The tiger was positively striking in his tux. Delphine looked every bit as stunning in her red dress — but wounded to the core.
Henrik looked at her a moment longer, then turned away. A small but infinitely cruel gesture that angered me as much as the kiss.
“You’re a bastard, you know that?” I couldn’t help hissing. “The way you treat her…” His blank look made me huff. “Unbelievable.”
He frowned. “You mean Delphine?”
“Yes, I mean Delphine!”
He waved his glass. “Look around. See the caterers? The musicians? They’re all staff. That’s what Delphine is. She’s been hired to do a job, just like them.”
“Not at all like them,” I muttered.
His eyes flashed and not in a good way. “Delphine is here for a paycheck, and she’ll get it — a very handsome one.”
“What if a paycheck isn’t all she’s after?”
He frowned, genuinely confused. “What else would she be after?”
Boy, he really didn’t get it, did he?
“When we arrived last night, Delphine ran into your arms. That wasn’t an act,” I growled.
Henrik’s brow furrowed.
“Every time she looks at you, her eyes light up — and not with dollar signs. All that time we were out shopping, it was, ‘Do you think Henrik would like’ this or that? She couldn’t wait to show you her dress.”
“She showed everyone her dress.”
I shook my head. “She showed it to you. And all you could say was ‘nice.’” I mimicked his deep, bored voice.