Forty-Two
“ I have an idea.”
I had time to think. It was two days after Brancato’s appearance, and I had been mulling over what to do, how to go about this.
Why had he shown up now, and what did it have to do with our meeting weeks ago?
It couldn’t be a coincidence. I refused to believe it.
Not with the way he had looked at me, like he knew exactly what he was doing. I hadn’t caught it that night weeks ago, but I saw it two days ago, when he stared me down, dropping his human mask.
My skin crawled. I was right to listen to my instincts and walk away from him. Who knows where I would be if I had taken up his offer for dinner?
Vince glanced up at me now, sat behind the files sprawled across the surface of his desk. It was just me and him in his study, the other three elsewhere in the house. He reclined in his seat, legs crossed, a pen to his lips. “Go on.”
“We should throw another party.”
I was on one of the couches, flipping through one of the many novels—this one with the pages cut—that sat in ornate bookshelves lining the walls. A fire crackled in the hearth, though with the changing weather, we wouldn’t need to light it much longer.
“Lure him in.”
Vince knew exactly who I meant. “No.” He shook his head.
“We know he’s coming back,” I tried to reason. “Or, if not him, someone else. Why not invite him?”
“I won’t allow him to step foot on these grounds again.”
I had thought about it over the past couple of days, putting things together in my mind.
And then came the realization that I had never planned for anything in my life—it had all been decided for me. My schooling, the serendipity of meeting Adam—then stumbling upon Vince; the decision of my betrothal to Wright. All happenstance, or someone else’s concern. Without Fate’s intervention, my days had played out the same way, with late nights, skipped breakfasts, and apologies to my mother, before it began all over again, waiting for an interruption of the monotony.
Only I hadn’t realized it. Never had I changed the course. Not until I ran away from it all, deciding I needed Vince more than anything else.
“Think about it,” I said, placing the novel onto the tea table .
“I am thinking about it,” he nearly growled. “No.”
“Is it not better to know when he’s coming? That way we can prepare.”
Vince’s eyes bore into me as he tapped the pen to his lips. Thinking, wheels churning. Outside, the sun was close to setting, sending ribbons of pink and orange across the sky. With every nightfall, we were one day closer to Brancato doing something . None of us knew what. But that mischievous smile had said it all, that he would return and wreak havoc in doing so.
“And when do you suggest we do this?”
“As soon as possible,” I said. “Tomorrow. We throw the biggest party this house has ever seen. Invite everyone. And Brancato will come.”
“We don’t need invitations,” Vince said, cocking his head. “It’s never been done.”
“Yes, but what if?” I stood, stepping closer to him, meeting his stare across his desk. “What if we invite the whole city? If they see invitations to the great house of Vince Thornton, they’ll come in droves.”
A pause. His jaw ticked. “Is that what we want? Human collateral?” His pen stopped its tapping. “There will be blood.”
I leaned closer. “A distraction.”
Brancato had been starving. His lust for blood was obvious. I had an inkling he wouldn’t be able to resist if he heard there was a party to end all parties, especially so close to his arrival. If he brought others with him, whoever he had helping him, they’d either be fighting their instincts the whole time, surrounded by humans and their fresh blood, or expose themselves for monsters .
And if it did turn into a bloodbath, Brancato would have to go into hiding. No vampire who was the cause of an attack in public would risk recognition, right?
He’d be relegated to the shadows, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t like it.
“Besides that,” I added, “we know the house. He doesn’t.”
It was a veritable labyrinth, easy enough to get turned around down these halls, with its hundreds of rooms, some locked, some not. Many rooms had two doors, I found—each one leading to a different corridor, some leading to other suites. It was a testament to the servants’ abilities to clear the entire house, to find all guests after these shindigs, as I’m sure many a partygoer got lost after the heavy drinking, passing out on one of the many guest beds in the house.
The past few days, I had scoured each hall, twisting every door handle I could find.
I had made a map in my mind. Knew which doors only opened one-way, locking behind you once you entered. I had even found a few secret corridors behind bookshelves or hanging tapestries. I wondered if even Vince knew of them all.
And I couldn’t get cornered.
I couldn’t tell him the entirety of my plan; it wouldn’t work if he knew. He’d never allow it.
He sat silently, eyes flicking over my face, considering as I spoke. I saw the hesitancy in him, but the anger too. A dangerous sort of glint to his eyes, much like how he stared Sinclair down on my first morning here. The fire to protect what was his.
“I will not risk such violence.” He shook his head .
“There will be violence either way,” I said, palms against the surface of his desk. “Better it is here, where we have the advantage. Ask the others if you need a second opinion.”
I knew what he wanted to do—he wanted to handle this himself, wanted to fight Brancato one-on-one. But Sinclair, Séra, Veronica—they all would help. It was their lives at stake, too.
Brancato represented everything Vince had left behind. Sending his head back to the Sire would be a clear message.
“I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
“I will be with you the whole evening,” I said, reaching for his fingers.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Tugging on my fingers, he brought me over to his side of the desk. He uncrossed his legs, pulling me into his lap.
We were face-to-face. Equal.
In his arms, I felt invincible. Like nothing could reach me.
Those gray eyes studied me. Leaning forward, tracing his nose along my jaw, wrapping his arms around my waist, bringing me close. “You make me want to be violent,” he murmured. “You make me want to hurt everyone that dares put a hand on you.”
“Then do it,” I said.
A spark ignited in his eyes. “What a savage woman you are.” Inhaling deep, he pulled away just enough to bring some clarity. “We will ask the others. But I cannot promise that I won’t hide you away somewhere.”
“This could go one of two ways,” Séra said, brows furrowed as she thought the proposition over. We had found the three of them in the intimate dining room where I’d first met them. “Either he remains out in the open, or he sneaks around,” she continued, then turning to Vince. “Would Brancato want to hide?”
Vince stood with his arm around me, as though if he let go, I’d vanish. “He would want us to know he’s here. That is, if he even shows up.”
That was always a possibility.
“Okay, and once he’s here, then what?” Sinclair spoke through the ever-present cigarette between his lips. “We corner him and beat him up? Send a message? They want you back, Vince. He’s not going to come just to politely say hello and remind you of their demands.”
Vince’s glare was like a knife. “I’m aware.”
The room sat in silence for a few moments. If Vince refused, I wasn’t sure what else to do, but I didn’t want us to be sitting ducks, either.
Brancato would come, but not to bring Vince back, just for Vince to take his position as heir. No, that door was closed. His Sire wanted him back, and not to keep him close, I feared. Vince’s time was running out—Brancato’s words were a threat.
Vince’s thread was about to be cut.
He shook his head as he stared at a point on the floor. His mind was running through all these thoughts, too.
“He’ll make an offer I can’t refuse,” he murmured, unmoving. He didn’t blink. “The Sire means it when he says he wants me to return. Brancato is just the messenger. He’ll have my hands tied.” With an ocean between Vince and the Sire, there was really only one way to get him back to the coven in Europe.
And now Brancato had leverage.
Vince’s eyes bore into me. “It’s too much of a risk.”
“I think it could work,” Veronica said, and we all turned to her in surprise. “Brancato will come, but there’s no reason for him to sneak onto the grounds. He’s too arrogant for that. But if he can’t see us…”
Séra’s lips pulled back in a grin. “A masquerade!”
“It will, at the very least, slow him down,” Veronica acquiesced. “And we will be able to see him .”
“There are too many factors at play.” Vince shook his head again.
“So we distract him.” Séra shrugged. “Sinclair and I can draw him in one direction or another.”
“This will only end in murder.” Vince gritted his teeth. “This can’t be resolved without spilling blood.”
“Good.” Veronica’s eyes shined like a cat’s. “Just make sure it’s his.”