20. More to Fear from Love
Chapter twenty
More to Fear from Love
Julian
I watched as Nicolette stood at the front of the boardroom, the large, sleek screen illuminating her.
She was radiant in her dark, fitted dress that graced her every curve, her long red hair falling in waves down her back.
She tried to hide the tremor in her voice as she directed the board’s attention to her slide deck—an update on how well Hart Labs was positioned to compete in the diagnostic market, given our improvements in assay sensitivity.
She didn’t think this was where she shined—nor was it where she wanted to.
But there was no hiding her brilliance or the way she could command a room.
If she could only see how enraptured she had everyone.
Well—everyone except Cyrus, who watched her with the keen, suspicious focus of a man convinced she and I had crossed a line this past weekend.
A line he feared would be my downfall . . . and perhaps our family’s.
He’d berated me the moment I stepped into the office this morning. Giving my blood to Nicolette was a gamble he couldn’t stomach. But he had no idea it was her life we were truly gambling with. If it ever got out in our world what her blood had the potential to do . . . I shuddered to think of it.
Especially after what she’d shown me Friday night in the lab.
My DNA results had revealed an extra band—one humans don’t have.
According to Nicolette, the band appeared almost hidden, mirroring the first so closely that it was easy to mistake it for background noise.
But it was there all the same, hiding in plain sight.
She’d said it was the kind of anomaly anyone could miss if they weren’t looking for it.
Obviously, Cyrus had.
A fact I had no intention of mentioning to him.
Yet the truth was unmistakable. It was proof that vampires were derived from a genetic mutation, not myth or curse. For centuries, my nature had been a matter of legend and blood.
Now it was a matter of base pairs.
And for the first time in my long existence, there was scientific proof I could be cured.
But at what cost?
Nicolette was hellbent on seeing this through—determined to discover and isolate the protein in her blood that might be the key to everything. What if she succeeded? What if she truly was my cure?
I smiled at her as she elegantly orated about her next initiatives—improving the stability of our latest derived protein trials, outlining timelines and projected milestones with a confidence she didn’t believe she possessed.
I thought about how when I kissed her now, it felt as if she were kissing me back. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking.
Yet, last night, in our bed, she’d curled against my side without any entreaty on my part. There she’d gone over her presentation with me again and again, her brow furrowed in concentration, her voice soft and earnest as she practiced.
She seemed more worried about stumbling over her words in the board meeting than about the danger she was in. What her discoveries over the weekend meant. Or even the lingering doubts now surrounding Delia and her mother’s death.
She was an interesting creature. A creature I was coming to more than adore. She was making me question what humanity truly meant. Did it really come down to a single band on a gel—or was it found in our noblest actions, like protecting those we loved and cared for?
I knew Nicolette believed her best protection was to see this research through. To find a cure for what I was. But I wasn’t so sure.
I glanced at her father, seated to my right, the chairman of the board in a stately leather chair.
He loathed having to play nice with me in public.
For that, I couldn’t entirely blame him.
What I did blame him for was the way he stared at his daughter now—as if he were seeing her for the first time.
As if he’d somehow missed the brilliance, the charm, the quiet force she projected so effortlessly.
No wonder his wife had likely lived an entire second life he’d never noticed.
One which had placed his daughter in mortal peril.
And then there was Delia.
What the blazes was going on with his newfound friendship with her? Something was off there. With Delia.
Deeply off.
It was another piece of the puzzle in this ever-unfolding mystery.
But for this small moment, I allowed myself to admire my wife.
I loved how, with each passing second, she stood a little taller and her voice steadied.
But my favorite part came when she concluded and glanced at me—just briefly, just enough—and said, “Our progress in assay sensitivity and protein-stability trials reflects what I believe Hart Labs does best—pairing innovation with purpose. I’m grateful for the opportunity to contribute to that mission, and for the leadership that continues to push us toward meaningful discovery. ”
I wanted to believe she meant it. That we’d reached some sort of truce.
That she wasn’t simply playing her part for the board, for her father, for my family.
I wanted to believe that in time she would see that we could have something real.
That she would stop entertaining the notion of disappearing the moment she found her answers and gave me what I’d been searching for all these years.
I was gutted at the thought of her leaving me. I’d already grown too accustomed to her—her warmth in my bed, her body curling instinctively into mine, the way she fit against me as if she were meant to be there.
“You’re a lucky man,” Simone, my executive assistant, whispered beside me as she typed notes for the minutes. “I’ve read some of her published articles in The Lancet . She’s brilliant.”
“Very,” I agreed—on both counts. How lucky I was to have Nicolette in my life, and how brilliant she was. I only prayed no one ever discovered just how intelligent she truly was.
Wallace cleared his throat loudly next to me, as though the very idea of me having warm feelings toward his daughter offended him. No doubt he disliked Nicolette’s nod to my leadership. For all I knew, she’d said it for show. But foolishly, I chose to believe she meant it.
If Wallace hated that, he was going to loathe what came next.
I rose and beamed at my bride.
Nicolette blushed and took her seat.
I would give her all the flowery compliments she deserved once we were alone, but I knew it was best for both of us to keep it as professional as possible right now. I didn’t want anyone to question the validity of her role in the company.
“As you can see, the Hart legacy lives on. The partnership between the Hart and Rossi families, I think you will all agree, has been beneficial. One that will ensure Hart Labs continues to be an industry leader and an integral part of the medical and scientific community—as well as a civic leader here in Savannah. Wouldn’t you agree, Chairman? ”
I turned my gaze toward Wallace, silently warning him to play nice.
It would be in Nicolette’s best interest if he did.
It might even help put to rest the rumors about my marriage.
Nicolette didn’t deserve for the community to believe Wallace and I had struck some barbaric bargain—him handing over his company if I agreed to marry his daughter.
What a preposterous thought. Nicolette wasn’t a charity case. Any fool could see that.
Wallace’s face burned red, yet he held his composure as he adjusted the knot of his tie and stood to come eye to eye with me.
The tension in the room rose with him. The board members—mostly well-connected, wealthy community leaders—knew my takeover hadn’t been entirely welcome.
After all, I’d heavily pressured many of them in order to acquire voting control.
After an uncomfortable moment, Wallace finally let out a long breath, relenting.
“I think we all agree that the company is in excellent hands.”
It appeared to take every ounce of his humility to force the words out. They came stilted, and a vein pulsed at his neck.
“Thank you, Wallace.” I offered him my hand, hoping to project mutual respect—son-in-law to father-in-law, CEO to chairman of the board. Anything to ease the impact on Nicolette.
Wallace reluctantly took it, gripping far too hard, a grimace tugging at his distinguished features. “Say nothing of it.”
It was clear he meant that literally and he wasn’t ready to play nice.
I released his hand and sat, allowing Wallace the closing remarks, which were mercifully brief.
As soon as the meeting was adjourned, I watched Nicolette take her victory lap with the board members—each of them offering praise, admiration, and no small amount of awe. All except Cyrus. His gaze flickered between Nicolette and me, his eyes asking the same questions they’d asked for months.
Is this real? Do you truly trust her? Do you know what you’re doing?
I would have liked to respond with an emphatic yes to all three.
But the truth was far less certain. I feared for the first time in centuries that I didn’t know what I was doing at all.
And while I wanted what Nicolette and I had to be real, only time would reveal whether it could be.
If she would allow for it. As for trusting her .
. . I had no choice. I’d handed her the key to both my salvation and my demise.
And she, in turn, had placed her very life in my hands over the weekend.
I still shuddered to think how close I’d come to losing control. How, for one brief and horrifying moment, I’d believed I might end her life. And then she’d offered me the ultimate gift—a taste of humanity. A taste of her.
Cyrus turned away, unsatisfied, and walked out the door.
I disliked this newfound barrier between us. Cyrus had been the one constant in my long life, the one person I could always count on. I wanted that to remain true.
“Julian,” Nicolette called.
My name on her lips soothed something in me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.