Chapter 3
Dorian sipped the excellent cappuccino Debi had brought him.
He flicked through the script he’d previously decided against and was now having second thoughts about after Robin had mentioned it in passing.
That was enough for Dorian to give it another read.
When it came to judging if an idea had legs, Robin was right on the money most of the time.
“Are you okay, Dorian?” Debi asked. “You’re normally more excited when you get a new script.”
Dorian huffed, a smoke ring escaping. “It’s not new, but I got the feeling Robin wasn’t happy I didn’t jump at the offer.”
“Maybe it’ll help remind him you’re also open to other offers.”
“I doubt it somehow. I’m hot, glorious even, but Robin left me to go home without so much as a smooch. Didn’t even stay for a second drink.”
Debi patted him on his shoulder. “Did you use your thrall?”
Dragon thrall was pretty decent, not on the level of the vampires, and his was usually enough to get what he wanted. “Not last night, but I don’t think it would’ve worked. There has to be an element of receptivity, and he was sticking to his boundaries, so there wasn’t much point.”
“Robin’s a vamp; perhaps his thrall cancels yours out, and it wouldn’t have worked anyway?”
Dorian appreciated her trying to make him feel better. He shook his head. “Never used to have an issue. Robin’s thrall is special, but we complemented each other in that respect, and other ways.”
Robin was one of the sexiest bastards he’d ever fucked. He was good-looking, powerful, and had an allure that made Dorian want to take off all his clothes. Until recently, he’d never had a problem getting Robin’s attention, and perhaps it was time to call it quits and accept that ship had sailed.
“Didn’t you notice anything different? Did his thrall feel off somehow?”
Robin hadn’t used his thrall all evening. “He wasn’t projecting.”
Debi raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a bit odd? It’s sort of what he does. Maybe something’s happened so he can’t?”
Robin strutted around Hollywood as if he owned the place. Certainly, a large number of people owed their success to him, and he did tend to give off a god-like air that had people fawning over him. But last night he was different, more reserved, reticent almost.
“You might be onto something, Debi. He wasn’t himself yesterday. He slipped out of the club as if he didn’t want to be seen. That’s not Robin.”
“Maybe his husband’s keeping close tabs on him. I know you said it was a political marriage, well, he’s probably agreed not to do anything in public that might embarrass his beau.”
“Could be. I should accept that what we had were very enjoyable encounters, but ones that won’t be repeated.
” He’d lick his wounds and nurse his pride.
It would suck for a little while, but Dorian would find someone else worthy of his passion.
Someone who might want something more permanent.
He hadn’t had a partner in the true sense of the word for a long time.
He’d thought Robin might become his nestmate one day, but he was beginning to think he was a bit daft waiting for that fairy tale to happen.
“His husband is supposed to be some sort of powerful fae, right? He could be enchanting Robin. As you said, he’s acting really out of character.”
Dorian’s nostrils flared, and more smoke escaped. “I hate to think that’s true. Robin’s happy, he’s enjoying being married, and he thinks the sun shines out of Simon’s arse.”
Debi snorted. “I hope not, given Robin’s a vampire.”
Dorian laughed. “You’re a riot. But Robin’s a friend, and the least I can do is keep an eye out for him.”
“Given everything Robin’s done for you, maybe you should see if there is something wrong? Then, if there’s nothing but true love and hearts in their eyes, you can move on with a good conscience. I know you, Dorian, you’d hate to have been able to stop a good friend from getting hurt.”
She wasn’t wrong, but he had to be careful. “I don’t know how much I can do. If I were to mention my concerns to Robin, he’d dismiss me as being jealous. He might even stop representing me, and that’d be a disaster for my career.”
Debi took out her phone. “I have an idea.”
She tapped her screen and then turned her phone to show it to Dorian. He saw a logo that looked like a badly drawn piece of bacon and a fried egg. He squinted, not able to make out the word written underneath.
“What’s that?”
“Not a what but a who. Trevir Manisha. He’s a mage, not someone the Warlock Ruling Council would recognise, but he’s creative and willing to do whatever you want for the right price.”
There were plenty of rogue magic users; most weren’t useful, but if this guy had got onto Debi’s approved list, then he must have something about him. “You’re willing to vouch for him?”
“I wouldn’t have mentioned him if I wasn’t.”
He needed a bit more than that if he were going to do something that might involve accusing Robin’s husband of enchanting him. “How do you know this mage?”
“I’ve used Trevir before. Several times, actually. For both work and private business. He came recommended from a trusted source, and he delivered. Fast, clean, no questions asked.”
Dorian was willing to skirt the line of legality to make sure Robin was okay.
He wasn’t being solely altruistic; he wasn’t that self-unaware, because if Robin were under a spell, then if he were to break away, Dorian would be happy to comfort him in his hour of need.
He trusted Debi, so if she was convinced this Trevir guy was worth a go, then he should at least consider talking to him.
“Sounds like you have an idea how he could be useful.”
“Yes, he’s a bit of a master of all, turning his hand to whatever you need. He can personalise potions and charms, and I’m positive he could come up with something that could work on a certain vampire to make sure there’s nothing kooky going on with the fae bae.”
Robin’s new husband was a pretty powerful magic user, so that would have to be factored in. “He’ll need to be subtle. I reckon Simon would be able to spot anything too obvious.”
She smirked. “Dorian, that’s why people pay him the big bucks. He’s a genius in that respect. Want me to set up a meeting?”
“I can’t have my connection to him getting out.”
“He’s worked for half of Hollywood, and you didn’t even know his name, you’re not gonna have an issue.”
There’d be no harm in meeting him. First thing was to confirm that Robin was under some form of influence and find a way to break it if there was.
Robin had been into him in the past; they’d had great sexual chemistry, and maybe there was a way to capitalise on that.
If a little bit of magic oiled the way, then as far as Dorian was concerned, that was justifiable to give Robin his freedom.
“All right. See how soon he can visit.”
She tapped away on her phone. He was used to getting what he wanted, and Robin’s new attitude irked him on many levels.
Not just the whole wanting his lover back, but that Robin didn’t appreciate or even seem to care how lucky he was that Dorian wanted him.
His new husband was not that hot. Simon was pretty in a fae way, but he had none of the raw passion and fire Dorian could provide.
Debi clicked her tongue. “Trevir says if you’re willing to pay double his normal initial consultation fee, he’ll come straight away. Otherwise, it’ll be at least two weeks before he’s available.”
He didn’t want to wait, but he would if the price was too high. “How much?”
“Eight thousand dollars.”
The amount was nothing to Dorian; he spent more on an average night out. “Not a problem. Get him here.”
“He’s asking the best place for him to portal so as not to be seen,” Debi said, reading from her phone. “Shall I suggest the pool house? I can go and collect him.”
“Whatever you think best.”
She stood. “Right, I’ll be straight back.”
“He’s here already?”
She smiled. “Oh, yeah. He’s a big fan.”
Debi hurried away, and for a moment, Dorian wondered if he was doing the right thing.
Robin was convinced Simon was perfect for him, but Dorian thought there had to be more to their relationship.
Simon’s demands on Robin were beyond being a bit jealous over an old ex—he was being really suss.
Dorian was only looking after a friend’s best interests, and besides, he was just talking to Trevir… he hadn’t agreed to anything yet.
Warlocks, in his experience, didn’t wear long gowns or pointy hats.
That stereotype was something humans had made up, but Trevir could have come straight off the set of Lord of the Rings, complete with staff and navel-length beard.
Admittedly, the colours were a bit different as Gandalf wouldn’t have worn crushed purple velvet, but then he wouldn’t have had Crocs as footwear either.
“You’re Trevir? The guy who half of Hollywood is supposed to be flocking to for help?” he said incredulously.
“It’s called hiding in plain sight,” Trevir replied with a grin. “No one’s going to think someone dressed as a silly old coot, dangerous or capable of magic not fully sanctioned under the law.”
“Well, it’s working.”
Debi ushered Trevir to sit. “Trust me on this, Dorian,” Debi said. “He might be a little unconventional, but he’s the real deal.”
Dorian thought this Trevir was going to have to come up with something special to convince him he wasn’t a crackpot and he hadn’t wasted eight grand on a guy who’d played Magic: The Gathering one too many times.
“Okay, I’m willing to give Trevir a shot. But this is highly confidential.”
“Naturally.” Trevir grinned. “Tell me your problem, and I can suggest a few things. If you want to try any of them, we can work out the how, when and payment.”
Trevir was far more confident than his appearance would’ve suggested, and Dorian had a sense that maybe he wasn’t a prize bullshitter.