Chapter Three
MINA
“He’s…um…” Roux scratched his ear.
“He’s all right,” Bene filled in quickly.
Good old Bene. The only socially intelligent being in this bunch of growly supernaturals.
My panic subsided slightly. “Totally all right?”
Bene shot me a crooked smile. “As all right as a dragon shifter will ever be.”
Roux pinned him with a hard look, and Bene’s humor vanished.
“Uh…I’d better unpack,” Bene mumbled, trotting toward the west wing.
I stared. What was there to unpack in that tiny sports duffel of his?
It was all I could do not to shake Roux. A damn good thing I didn’t, because he looked edgy. Well, even edgier than usual. And you didn’t go shaking a testy tiger.
“Marius is all right, but he’s not here?” I asked.
Roux stuck his hands in his pockets. The top pockets, because he loved cargo pants, an echo of the military life he’d once led. Henrik looked around awkwardly, then thrust something at me, not at all his usual, bored, aristocratic self.
“A gift,” he murmured then hurried up the stairs.
I stared at the small flat can. Caviar?
Henrik, of all people (er, vampires?), had brought me a present?
Something was definitely wrong. That, or I was reading too deeply into old-world manners that required him to bring a gift to the lady of the house, as he insisted on calling me.
Old-fashioned manners didn’t prevent Henrik from avoiding me, though. Only Roux stuck around, compelled, no doubt, by his tightly wound sense of honor.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
He rubbed his chin, then finally came up with, “Marius had to…take care of a few things.”
His tone suggested innocuous trifles like a dental checkup or mowing his grandmother’s lawn.
Much about Marius remained a mystery to me, but if there was one thing I’d learned about the dragon shifter, it was that he didn’t do innocuous or trifles.
This was the guy who’d torched half an acre of forest in pursuit of an intruder.
A man whose idea of a diversion was a fire big enough to burn a Mallorcan villa to the ground. Everything Marius did, he did big.
“Take care of a few things,” I echoed, showing my disbelief. “Like what?”
“I didn’t ask,” Roux mumbled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
He grabbed his bag and headed into the house.
I stared at the door he disappeared through. The guys and I had had a rough start, but we’d gradually moved on to more cordial relations and even bonded, especially after that mission in Mallorca. Now, we were suddenly back at square one. Why? What had happened?
I trailed Roux into the house, a little forlorn. His footsteps echoed through the massive entry hall and up the stairs. Then everything went quiet, until Bam! The breeze slammed the front door shut.
I stood alone in that vast space, feeling small and hurt. Had I been kidding myself about forming genuine friendships with the guys? Was I stupid to think of a group of dangerous supernaturals as anything more than clients?
I squeezed my hands into fists. No, dammit. We’d laughed and cried together. (Well, I’d cried.) Roux had carried me out of a burning building. Bene had given me a touching birthday present. Henrik had…um…refrained from sucking my blood. If that wasn’t friendship, what was?
So where the hell was Marius?
Turning on my inner detective, I studied the caviar. It looked like the real deal, with Cyrillic script and everything. I stared at the hallway leading to the men’s quarters. Whoa. Had their mission taken them to Russia?
But, no. The sticker on the base of the can was printed in French, English, and German, and marked Noir Impérial Importateurs SRL, Bruxelles.
I looked back up at the empty stairway. Brussels, maybe?
Then again, that can could have been resold anywhere in Europe.
I stood, lost and confused, for another few minutes. Then I peered outside, willing another car to come down the drive. Marius would hop out, throw his arms around me, and everything would be all right again.
But there was no car. No Marius. No explanation. Just the vast, echoing space of the front hall.
I trudged toward the kitchen, then veered off to my apartment in the east wing, unable to face Madame Picard. She was busy preparing dinner for five, not four, but not busy enough to hold back from a barrage of questions I couldn’t answer.
Once in my apartment, I went straight to a window and stared at the driveway while my emotions churned.
I didn’t have Marius’s number, because I’d never needed it, with him living at the chateau. I’d learned to live with radio silence whenever he was on a mission for Gordon, but his latest mission was over now. So where the hell was he?
Celeste jumped into my mind. Was his succubus ex somehow involved in this?
The thought made me sick, but what could I do?
Get much-needed work done instead of sitting around fretting, I chided myself.
I detoured to the mini fridge in my apartment, broke off a chunk of dark chocolate, and headed for the door. Then I stopped, turned back, and grabbed another chunk. I was in the midst of an emotional crisis, and I deserved it, dammit!
Then I headed for the upper level of the opposite wing of the chateau — the rooms corresponding to mine, where my guests lived.
I’d originally assigned them rooms on the ground floor, but Marius had immediately moved to the upper floor, while Henrik had moved in to the attic.
I’d been furious at the time, but that was before… Well, before Marius and I had…
I trailed off there, trying to fill in that blank. Before he and I had fallen in love, or before he and I had started our ill-fated affair?
In any case, my latest renovation project focused on the four upstairs rooms in their west wing, because the plan was to rent out accommodations in addition to hosting weddings and other events someday.
I snorted under my breath. High-paying, human guests, I hoped, not temptingly dangerous dragon shifters who messed with my heart.
Work was the last thing I felt like doing, but the chateau wouldn’t renovate itself, so I pulled on my work overalls, headed to the west wing, and started scraping paint from a window frame.
My focus was only half there, however. The rest had me peeking around the room, spying the few possessions Marius had left behind. Wondering. Wishing.
But there were no love letters revealing a secret affair, no map pinned with locations of murders to investigate — or carry out. No duffel bag full of weapons, and certainly no album of childhood memories to give me some insight into the man I loved.
Time dragged. The shadows of the forest that fringed the chateau stretched and crept across the lawn. Roux and Henrik paced outside, deep in conversation. I watched them from the corner of my eye then checked the clock. Five p.m.
I worked straight through till six, though my mind spun with conspiracy theories the whole time. Habit drove me to shower and into the dining room for dinner afterward. A decision I regretted the instant I walked through the door.
Roux, Bene, and Henrik were there, and Marius’s absence loomed large. They stood silently by the windows, and the atmosphere was very much that of a wake. My heart hammered. No one was dead, right?
“Any news?” I asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
Roux shook his head grimly.
My phone pinged, and they all tensed. I fumbled in my haste to answer, then grimaced.
“Oh hello, Gordon. How are you?”
All three men paled. Even Henrik, who looked more ghostly than usual.
Gordon responded with the usual pleasantries, but I could sense an undertone to his words.
“Yes, all’s well here, thank you. I got a lot of work done on the west wing. You should come visit and see the progress for yourself.”
Roux’s eyes went wide, and Bene made a cutting motion with his arms.
I turned the screws a little tighter, watching the men as I spoke into the phone. “Maybe next weekend?”
Roux joined Bene in making frantic stop gestures.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I said when Gordon politely declined, citing work.
Bene exhaled, and Roux rubbed his chest, right over his heart.
Then Gordon asked about my houseguests, as I’d guessed he would.
“Are they back?” I echoed his question to my three guests.
Roux and Henrik nodded like a couple of those toy dogs with bobbing heads people kept in their cars, while Bene put his hands together in a pleading motion.
“Yes, they’re here now. Roux, Bene, Henrik…” I said, then paused.
“And Marius,” Roux hissed.
So, whatever Marius was up to, it wasn’t a job Gordon had assigned. Interesting. No, infuriating. I glared at the men.
Bene flapped imaginary wings, miming a dragon, while Henrik went for a threatening approach, letting his long vampire fangs extend.
I flashed him my middle finger.
“And Marius,” Roux repeated, pleading this time.
I considered for another split second, then spoke into the phone. “And Marius, of course.”
I jabbed a finger at Roux, mouthing, You owe me.
Henrik turned to the drinks cart, poured a scotch, and handed it to Roux.
“Would you like to speak to him?” I asked Gordon.
Roux nearly spat out his drink. I shot him a fake smile, though I trembled inside. What if Gordon called my bluff?
“Not necessary,” Gordon said.
I exhaled.
“I just wanted to check in,” my godfather added.
Funny, how that always coincided with the comings and goings of my houseguests.
Or not funny at all, because I hated being used.
And I hated the new truths these not-strictly truthful men had unveiled to my naive eyes.
I’d thought my godfather had done me a huge favor by paying for his team of “bodyguards” to board at the chateau, but he was actually using it as a base from which to conduct nefarious business deals.
“I appreciate it,” I said, not as enthusiastically as I had in the past.
“I’m sorry I can’t make it, but please come visit any time,” Gordon said.
I made a mental note. Maybe I would, dammit. Maybe I would.
“Thanks so much. Talk to you soon?” I said, summoning what cheer I could.