15. A Course Correction
Chapter fifteen
A Course Correction
Nicolette
I couldn’t believe I was walking around Whole Foods with Julian, shopping for groceries like we were just some regular married couple, when back at the penthouse I had a minilab set up complete with a portable centrifuge.
Julian had discreetly smuggled in all the equipment.
We wanted no one to know what we’d be doing for the next few days—especially the psycho who kept leaving me “love” notes.
Hence the cutesy grocery-shopping trip, pretending like we were prepping for a little long-weekend staycation.
Our cart was filled with all the romantic things: fine chocolates and cheeses, steak, an array of seafood, snacks, and sparkling juice because Julian thought it best that we stayed away from alcohol.
I agreed. The last thing we needed was lowered inhibitions while we were attempting something that could, in theory, kill one or both of us.
Nothing says “bad idea” like getting tipsy and then doing experimental blood work.
We were already taking each other’s lives into our hands.
Julian was literally a ticking time bomb.
We were hours away from the plasma treatment wearing off, and once it did, his mutated pathways would start firing again—meaning an increased craving response, sensitivity to light, and, according to him, a broodier, darker mood.
You know, all the fun vampire side effects.
The plasma therapy kept those pathways suppressed, but without another dose his system would start reverting.
Which was exactly why I needed baseline samples from him before the treatment kicked back in.
Super romantic, right?
Of course, I would have to run most of the tests back at the lab, but that was once he was “safe” again.
This was assuming I survived. Julian assured me I would, but I could tell he was nervous, and, given his pull toward me, he questioned himself.
I kept seeing flashes of myself as the woman in a horror movie—the one who loves the vampire so much that she says, Sure, honey, take a drink, and then he can’t control himself and she dies.
“Darling,” Julian interrupted the gruesome montage playing in my head. “We should grab some strawberries and mangoes. I know how much you love them.”
Sometimes I thought that if Julian hadn’t stolen my family’s company, forced me to marry him, and lusted after my blood, and—minor detail—if he actually loved me, he really would have been the best husband.
“That would be great. You’re the sweetest,” I sang, making sure to play my part.
I even braved leaning in and brushing my lips against his cheek, begging myself to behave.
While I didn’t trust his family—or almost anyone at this point—I was hedging my bets.
If they were truly willing to protect me, I needed that protection now more than ever.
So I was going to sell this fake marriage the best I could.
Julian turned his head, his expression genuinely surprised by my show of affection. Yet he looked . . . pleased. Especially when he gently pressed his lips to mine and murmured, “Keep your clothes on, Nicolette.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Julian took that as an invitation to kiss me again, his lips cool and sure against mine—right up until Winnifred Morgan’s floral-bomb perfume announced her arrival before she even spoke.
“Look how cute the newlyweds are,” the mayor’s wife interrupted us in her exaggerated Southern accent.
Ugh. She was one of the last people I wanted to see.
There was just something so disingenuous about her and her husband.
Like they were nice to your face, but if it served their purpose, they’d turn on you in a second.
My mom had warned me about people like them.
The people who appear to have a thousand friends with no close circle are usually friends to no one but themselves, she’d said.
And the Morgans had never wanted anything to do with me until Julian came into my life.
Granted, they were much older than me. But still, my parents had been prominent people in our community.
I’d always lived in the shadows, even though I went to one of the top medical schools and had been published in plenty of medical journals. And frankly, I’d liked it that way.
Julian and I broke apart and faced Winnifred, who was sauntering toward us, eyeing us with open skepticism.
I didn’t blame her. I hadn’t exactly inspired confidence that Julian and I were madly in love.
Mainly because we weren’t. But I’d realized my misstep, and I was making a course correction.
One that would hopefully lead me straight to my freedom.
So when Julian put his arm around me and drew me flush against his side, I leaned into it, smiling up at him like a lovestruck bride.
Winnifred, dressed to the nines in a silk blouse, designer slacks, and enough jewelry to blind someone under the fluorescent lights, her dark-blonde bob perfectly in place, peered into our cart nosily.
“Well, it looks like you two are stocking up to get all cozy.” She sounded disappointed—no doubt because she’d probably been spreading rumors that Julian had only married me for the company. She wasn’t exactly wrong.
“Yes,” Julian said wryly, clearly annoyed by her. But he still played his part. “I regret that I couldn’t take Nicolette on a honeymoon, so we are taking a long weekend and doing a staycation. I can’t wait to have her all to myself.” He nuzzled my neck for effect.
Oh, it had an effect on me. I had to grip the cart, terrified I’d do something to embarrass myself. Thankfully, only a tiny squeak escaped my lips.
“How romantic,” she responded cheerily, but her narrowed brown eyes, which were lasered right at me, said she had a hard time believing Julian could be so smitten with me.
“He’s so romantic,” I snipped, not appreciating her lack of belief in my fake marriage.
Sure, I was mostly to blame for that. But come on.
Julian was a world-class actor. Sometimes even I bought his charm.
You know, in the middle of the night when he’d kiss my head and tell me how lovely I was and that everything would be okay.
“I’m sure he is,” she said in a placating tone before switching to her sweet-as-pie one. “I do hope you two will be at our costume ball. It’s the best Halloween party in town. Or so my friends say.”
That comment deserved an eye roll, but I refrained. Instead, I heard myself say, “We’d love to come.”
Ugh. I so did not want to go, but it was the kind of event my parents would have attended.
Good PR for Hart Labs and for Julian and me.
Besides, I knew a cure for Julian was months away—maybe even years.
That’s how science worked. Take penicillin, for example: It was accidentally discovered in 1928, but the first human clinical trials didn’t happen until 1941, after it was purified and stabilized.
Granted, I had some serious incentive here and would be totally locked in on this experiment.
Julian blinked, surprised, before flashing his charming grin. “I can’t wait to show off my wife in her ravishing costume.”
Uh . . . ravishing ? I was thinking more along the lines of Cinderella’s fairy godmother.
Winnifred gave me an appraising once-over. “Well, I look forward to it.” Pretty sure she was having a hard time picturing me as “ravishing.”
Whatever. I didn’t have time for her. I needed to get my husband home before he started craving blood. “We’d better go, honey. Our staycation awaits.”
“Just lead the way,” Julian crooned before his hand glided down my back and he grabbed my butt.
It caught me so off guard that I jumped and giggled.
Winnifred gasped, looking highly affronted. “Goodbye.” She hastily walked off.
“Why did you do that?” I whispered. “We’re definitely going to be the talk of the town now.”
“Good. I hope they all know just how attracted I am to my wife.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For not making me feel like I’m beneath you.”
He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Why would I do that when you are clearly above my station?”
My stomach fluttered against my will. “Don’t make me like you,” I teased, though I kind of meant it. I’d liked him once before—very much—and then he’d told me he was a vampire, he was taking my company, and if I didn’t marry him, I would die.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He grinned.
I had a sinking feeling that was his biggest lie yet.
But I might not have had to worry about catching warm and fuzzy feelings for my husband. There was a real chance I wouldn’t even survive the next few days—or weeks. If Julian didn’t accidentally kill me, the psycho probably would.
On that fun note, it was time to get this party started.
Julian and I arrived back at the hotel, carrying our groceries like a regular married couple. You know, except we had a personal bodyguard—a.k.a. Amos—who escorted us up to the penthouse while pretending to be just another member of the hotel staff.
“Evenin’, Mr. and Mrs. Rossi.” Amos slipped into the elevator with his crooked grin and immediately closed the door.
I kept wanting to like him. He was so personable. But each time I’d received a note, Amos had supposedly been watching out for me. And he’d known that I’d worn blue the day I received the first one.
“Everything secure, Amos?” Julian asked.
Amos nodded and smiled at me. “No one’s gettin’ at the doc.” He’d started calling me that, and I had to admit I liked the term of endearment.
“Very good,” Julian commented.
“Got a copy o’ the coroner’s report for ya, just like ya asked.” Amos patted his vest, giving me a sheepish look.
I knew it was my mother’s. Julian felt like he might have missed something the first time he read it. Admittedly, I was anxious to read it too.
“It’s all right, Amos,” I assured him. Believe me, if my mother was murdered, I wanted to know more than anyone.
“Don’ wanna spoil yer time together.”
Even Amos believed we were just taking some time off to be alone.
“I appreciate that.” I always tried to play nice with the vampires. You know, just in case.
“I will let nothing get in the way of our time together.” Julian reached out his hand for the report.
Amos pulled a thick business-size envelope from his vest and handed it over. “Let me know if ya need anythin’ else.”
Julian adjusted the canvas bags in his hand and took the report. “Please, just make sure we aren’t disturbed. But let me know if anything arises that I need to be concerned about.”
I swallowed hard, thinking of all the concerning possibilities that could arise.
Like what if that psycho vampire was already in the building?
What if it was someone Julian trusted? I didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with those possibilities.
Not when I was about to come face-to-face with Julian’s bloodlust.
“You got it, boss.”
“Thank you.” Julian nodded.
The elevator door opened, and I took a breath before stepping out, praying the gamble with my life was going to pay off.
Julian joined me, and Amos waved and winked at us. “’Ave fun.”
The wink didn’t mean anything . . . did it? It was a playful wink, right? Not a sinister I’m going to come snap your neck later wink, right? I was obviously becoming paranoid.
As soon as the elevator door closed, I said overly loudly, “Forget about the groceries; come to Mama.”
Julian tilted his head, his quirked brow asking what was wrong with me.
Oh, so much. Seriously, I was getting ridiculous. Come to Mama? I’d never said those words in my life.
“I just want to make sure your family thinks we’re totally into each other,” I whispered.
Julian chuckled. “Hmm. That should do it.”
I met Julian at the door as he punched in the key code. “Are you mocking me?”
“No. Never,” he said playfully.
“Sure,” I said dryly, moving past him into the penthouse—only to stop short and drop the groceries where I stood.
The place looked completely different than when we’d left.
Fairy lights were strung everywhere, casting a warm glow over rose petals scattered across the hardwood floor.
They formed a path leading to a nest of pillows arranged in front of a massive movie screen.
And waiting there, like the cherry on top of this influencer-approved fever dream, was my favorite peanut butter popcorn in a heart-shaped bowl.
It looked like the coziest, most romantic setup I’d ever seen. Something straight off a date-night Pinterest board.
I bit my lip and turned toward Julian. His expression hovered somewhere between pleased with himself and—if I wasn’t mistaken—nervous.
“What’s this?” I asked, sounding like a breathy teen girl. No one had ever done anything like this for me before.
“I just want to make sure my family knows I’m totally into you.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile. “Yeah, well, I guess you win on that front.”
Julian set his bags on the kitchen counter before sidling up to me. “I just want you to know how bad I feel that I didn’t insist on taking you on a honeymoon. I thought maybe this could make up for it.”
“But this staycation is just a ruse,” I stuttered. “We’re starting my research into a cure for you.” This was just pretend for him . . . wasn’t it?
Julian took my hand and brought it to his cool lips.
Lips that felt colder now that the plasma treatment was wearing off.
“Your research can start tomorrow. Tonight is all about you. I have one of your favorite movies, Pirates of the Caribbean , cued up. Now go get comfortable while I make us dinner.”
“Uh . . .” I was at a loss for words. I hadn’t been expecting a date night. Or whatever this was. A romantic lure to my death? “Shouldn’t we go over the coroner’s report?” I blurted out, not sure I wanted to get this comfortable around him.
“Not tonight.” He kissed the top of my head and walked toward the kitchen.
I stared after him as I drifted slowly toward the bedroom, my feet moving on autopilot. This night had taken a weird turn. The question was . . . Where was it going to lead?