Chapter 13
I gave Ezra’s name to the hostess in the foyer of Le Demi Monde later that night, feeling smug at this little test of whether my ex would instantly recognize me. My strawberry blond hair took me aback every time I caught sight of myself in a mirror, but its pinky hue complemented my blue contacts. I’d leaned into lilacs and golds on my makeup palette, used shapewear to give me curves and push up boobs, and spritzed on a muskier perfume than I generally favored.
This wasn’t just about pulling one over on Ezra. I had to get used to being in this persona—how she walked, her body language—for the gallery event tomorrow, so there was no time to waste. Plus, like it or not, there was so much pressure riding on this date that if things went horribly wrong, somehow the blow would be easier if I didn’t look like myself.
At least, that was what I’d kept insisting during the embarrassing amount of time I’d spent getting ready. Cherry Bomb had used up her year’s quota of snorts and Maud had insisted on photos of every single potential dress, providing helpful commentary.
That color reminds me of baby food. Yum!
Aw, you’re so brave for wearing that. Good for you!
And my personal favorite: That outfit is perfect if you want him to focus on your personality .
Why had I wished for a sibling again?
Well, I was here now. I tugged on my ivory slip dress for the billionth time as I followed the hostess across the restaurant, its fabric clinging to my padded-out curves in a way that made me feel both sexy and self-conscious.
Le Demi Monde was a hidden gem nestled in the heart of the city. Whenever I’d driven past, I’d admired its elegant facade adorned with two discreet wrought-iron balconies and cascading window boxes that even now in January overflowed with vibrant flowers.
However, the one time I’d checked out its minimalist website, I’d noticed there were no prices on the menu and resignedly closed my browser. Happily, tonight was Ezra’s treat, and I’d promised Sach that by the time I’d finished, my blood would be replaced by béarnaise sauce.
The gentle clink of fine china and crystal was a soothing percussion to the soft classical music playing in the background. Actually, everything about the space was tranquil, from the cream-colored walls adorned with British Columbia landscapes, to the tables draped in crisp white linens. Ornate chandeliers cast a warm golden glow over the space, their light dancing off the polished silverware.
I sniffed the heavenly aroma of boeuf bourguignon, my stomach rumbling, and stepped onto a slightly raised platform at the back of the restaurant. Partitioned off with enormous vases of orchids, it afforded guests more privacy.
Well, one guest to be precise, because this back area was otherwise empty.
Ezra stood up from a leather banquette, his athletic frame cutting an impressive silhouette in a tailored charcoal suit. His wild black curls were somewhat tamed, and my stomach did a little flip at the way his silver-blue gaze raked over me, his scrutiny intense.
Wait. My hand drifted to my hair. He did know it was me, right? I cursed myself for not sending him a close-up photo of my new look with the caption “AVIVA!!”
He schooled his face into a polite smile for the hostess. “I’m expecting my date.”
My next step faltered.
The hostess glanced at me uncertainly.
“I’m his date,” I said through gritted teeth.
The other woman smiled in relief. “A blind date.”
Well, Ezra might end up blind once I poked his eyes out.
“How sweet,” she said. “And romantic. He reserved this entire section for the two of you. Your server will be along momentarily. Enjoy.” She left me there.
I crossed my arms, all the better to get those boobs front and center. “Like what you see?”
“Yes, but not because of your new look.” Ezra poured a glass of red wine from the bottle on the table and held it out. “Because you’re here. That glower when you assumed I didn’t recognize you was adorable.”
My stomach went squirmy at his fond smile. Point to Count von Cardoso.
Maybe don’t use the villain name on the man you’re reconciling with? Cherry said in an amused voice.
Considering reconciling with . The ongoing consideration is important to this equation .
Uh-huh.
Shut it, demon .
I sauntered past empty tables glowing with tiny candles. Barely sparing a glance for the jaw-dropping view of the Vancouver skyline through the picture window next to us, I accepted the glass of wine.
Ezra’s fingers lingered on mine.
“You clean up pretty well yourself,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t betray the flutter in my chest.
The intimate seating in the banquette forced us to sit side by side rather than across from each other, and while Ezra wasn’t nowhere near as muscular as Silas, he took up a lot of room. Oxygen too, which was no mean feat for a guy who didn’t breathe. His rock-hard thigh brushed mine, and when he draped an arm along the back of the seat, I was curled into the crook of his arm.
I flexed my fingers like I could capture the easy familiarity of it.
In my head Cherry blew a raspberry at me. You can, idiot .
“What’s with the disguise?” Ezra said with a forced lightness.
“I’m undercover.”
“You certainly are.” His smile sharpened into a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth red flag. “Should I call you by a different name as well?”
“Undercover on a case,” I said evenly. “I’m learning this new character. This is the perfect place to practice being her.”
“I’m thrilled, as ever, to assist you in your career goals.”
Keep it up, Cardoso. You’re making my choice about us a lot easier.
No one thinks there is still a choice to be made , Cherry said.
There is if he’s going to be a dick .
I sipped my wine, the flavor coating my tastebuds in silky grape ecstasy. “Goddamn that’s good.”
“It’s a Chateau Petrus 2019, so I hope so.”
“You’re talking to a woman who buys her wine according to how funny the label is so you can skip your fancy names and dates, buster.”
Ezra nodded somberly, though his lips were quirked. “Noted.”
I picked up the handwritten menu sitting on my bone white china plate.
Which was merely the top plate upon a small stack.
I frowned at the plethora of dinnerware in front of me. And the staggering amount of cutlery. Also, what was that third glass for? I tightened my hold on my menu. Oh, for a burger where I wouldn’t embarrass myself.
He tugged on my curl gently. “Stop overthinking whatever you’re overthinking.”
His touch sent shivers tumbling through me.
Get with the program and get to the good stuff already , Cherry snapped . Any longer and you’ll need a dictionary to remember what an orgasm is.
Sex is not a reason to get back together with someone , I retorted.
Then pick one of the thirty other reasons off the list you made .
Point of fact, I’d made two lists and while the second one was short, its single point held a lot of weight. Shockingly it wasn’t that Ezra had broken my heart. I’d processed our pasts—it was our present situation that was the issue.
I reached for the wine again.
Our waiter approached. “Are you ready to order?”
Ezra raised an eyebrow. “May I?”
Since I’d failed to see anything on the menu past the first hors d’oeuvres of stuffed squid, sure. “Been plotting the way to my heart, Cardoso?”
“You caught me.”
I loftily waved for him to have at it.
Ezra ordered a meal in French with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
Once the server had left, I turned to my date. “I want to ask you something, to get all business out of the way before our delicious meal arrives.”
“Shoot.”
I launched into what happened with the maggot and the female vampire supplicant. I didn’t tell him about Patrin, but I did say Darsh warned me how dangerous the Ashbishop was.
“I doubt Darsh shared a fraction of his information. The Ashbishop disappeared long before I was born,” Ezra said, “and no one’s heard from him in decades. That was a good thing, but if he’s back, he needs to be put down slowly and painfully.”
“Can you ask around the Hell if anyone remembers him? Oh, and also ask about the female vampire who was the most recent supplicant for the power word on the Ashbishop’s behalf?” I gave Ezra the few details I had—including that she’d become part of his flock because she buried a human child.
She’d died taking the test, but hopefully someone missed her.
Ezra agreed to look into both.
Our first course arrived. I got a beautifully plated appetizer; Ezra received a glass of chilled blood presented in an ornate crystal chalice.
I leaned forward, my mouth watering at the smell of flaky golden-brown puff pastry. I had to restrain myself from cutting it open to discover its treasures inside before the waiter had finished topping up our water glasses. Fortunately, I managed to keep my pace to that of a civilized person’s and didn’t moan or roll my eyes back into my head at the first taste of the goat cheese and caramelized onion filling.
“I love watching how much pleasure you take in eating,” Ezra said. “It’s so contagious that I feel like I’m sharing it with you.”
I pointed my knife at him. “Well, this show isn’t free. You know the price.”
Ezra had been texting me hilarious anecdotes from the Hell every few days. “Nothing weird has happened today,” he said.
“Bullshit.” I coughed the word.
He gave an exaggerated sigh and pulled out his phone. “There may have been one instance involving a pinball machine and an Eishei Kodesh with a bad Botox job.”
We fell into the easy rhythm of conversation we always shared. I found myself laughing more than I had in weeks, the tension of recent events melting away in Ezra’s presence.
Ezra tapped the wine bottle, his eyebrows raised in question.
I held up my glass. “Drink me.”
His pupils dilated. “Phrasing?”
“You know what I mean,” I muttered, blushing.
He complied without spilling a drop. The man really did follow orders beautifully.
Idiot , Cherry scoffed.
He pressed in close to my side, his phone angled to take a shot of the two of us. “Smile.”
I leaned out of frame, placing the glass on the table. “What are you doing?”
He frowned, fiddling with the image. “I’m capturing my dinner with a beautiful woman.”
“You can’t post that!” I lunged for the phone.
He pulled it out of reach with a scowl. “I wasn’t planning to, but even if I did, no one would recognize you.”
I peered over his shoulder at the screen.
The chandelier cast a honeyed light on the curvy blonde woman with flushed cheeks and sparkling blue eyes. Damn, my disguise was gorgeous.
Ezra had snapped the picture while he was almost in profile to the camera, his focus on me. A slight smile played on his face like he’d just recalled a cherished memory.
I stared at the woman who looked nothing like me. “Ezra.”
“Is this where we fight again?”
I smoothed out my napkin in my lap. “Am I that transparent?”
“Only to those who know you well,” he replied with a soft smile. “And I’d like to think I still fall into that category.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “This new case is going to be a lot, and I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t taking this—us—seriously.”
Ezra placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “That warms my cold, undead heart. But the case isn’t the issue. You don’t want to date the Lord of the Copper Hell, do you?”
“I want to date you , Zee.” I toyed with the stem of my glass. “What if we took it slow? Stay off certain people’s radars?—”
“Make me another dirty little secret?” His expression was thunderous. “Fuck that.”
I’m not dirty , Cherry mildly commented.
My eyes tingled. I dug my nails into my palms, using the bite of pain to center myself and speak calmly. “Our friends would know. Michael, too, but she isn’t going to tell the Authority. We’d keep it from our fathers for obvious reasons.”
“Get real, Aviva. You think Delacroix hasn’t figured out the truth? I’ve threatened to dismember him for hurting you. More than once.”
“He knows you help me out, that we’re friends. Anything else is none of his business.”
“This has nothing to do with our privacy.” Ezra reached for the chalice.
I squirmed in my seat. “Can’t it just be about us for a while? You want all that other pressure?”
“Nice try, mi cielo,” he drawled coldly. “You’re retreating to your hiding-in-plain-sight fallback. I won’t do it.”
“At least that’s a strategically sound place to be,” I shot back. “You’d rather shove yourself—shove us—into the spotlight in the misguided belief that it keeps you safe.” If we did this and then ever broke up, my cover was blown and I couldn’t go back to hiding. Once I was outed to the world, that was it.
He crossed his arms. “I see it as being all in on this relationship, but thanks for your condescending opinion.” He shook his head. “I’m not the same man I was, but you don’t trust me. Just say it.”
“This isn’t about trust. It’s about choices we’ve both made.”
“And yours involves putting the Maccabees first.”
“It involves putting me first. Not blowing everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve. If you cared about me, you’d understand that.”
“I understand plenty,” he muttered and fired back the rest of the blood in the chalice.
I slammed the table. “You got to dictate the end of our relationship, why can’t I set some rules for the start?”
Ezra blinked at me, his expression an unreadable mask. Then he stood up and walked away.
I threw my napkin on the table. It was less satisfying than throwing my knife at his back. “For not being the same man, this looks awfully fucking familiar.”
He stopped and turned around. His fangs had descended. “I’m not leaving you. I’m stepping outside to take a moment, so I don’t say something I regret.”
“You could have mentioned that,” I sniped.
He didn’t reply, his retreating footfalls feeling like a blow.
The waiter brought what should have been my succulent, decadent main course of Lobster Thermidor, along with another chalice of blood for Ezra.
I sawed listlessly at the sumptuous meal, not staring at the empty seat beside me.
Ezra finally returned and sat down. “I’m not leaving the Copper Hell.”
I set down my cutlery. “Because of your mother.”
“That and we have no clue what Delacroix is up to. Not only does this put me in the best position to find out, there’s no telling what he’d do if his security system up and left. And if things get really bad with Natán, then you, me, our friends, we all retreat to the yacht where he can’t get to us. I know you hate it when I do things to keep you safe, but this is for more than just you.”
“That all makes sense, but…” I shrugged and spread my hands wide. “Is this our last supper?” I teased sadly.
“No.” He leaned forward, his eyes blazing with intensity. “How about we simply be two people enjoying each other’s company? No labels, no pressure. Besides, you don’t even look like yourself right now and you don’t even smell like yourself.”
Right. Ezra and a busty blonde. My heart thudded hollowly in my chest. “Darsh gave me this pheromone-based perfume.”
“Well, it gives us some breathing room. Ezra Cardoso is simply having dinner with…” He looked at me in question.
“Jackie.” I used the short form of my middle name—Jacqueline—and flipped my hair off my shoulders. Too bad I didn’t feel as lighthearted as I acted. “What happens when I’m not undercover anymore?” I said softly.
“We…” The corners of his eyes and lips tightened briefly. “Can’t we have one thing that doesn’t require a million strategies and contingency plans?”
That was rich coming from him. I downed the rest of my wine, my shoulders slumped.
“Ezra Cardoso, you naughty boy.” A vaguely familiar Black man with a shaved head stepped onto the platform, his broad British accent at odds with his impeccably tailored suit.
“Alastair,” Ezra said flatly.
The vampire who ranked only behind Ezra in Natán’s Mafia hierarchy. My shitty evening was complete.