Chapter 26 #2
“My God,” I whispered. He was a fucking wine collector. I should have caught the hint when he’d opened a bottle of wine last night, but somehow I’d overlooked it, too distracted by the naked goblin swimming around in the pool.
“This looks delicious,” a voice called from the other side of the cellar.
I turned in time to see Bastian depositing plates piled high with Alfredo, peas mixed in.
There was a basket covered by a cloth holding our bread.
He moved over to the side of the room and plucked a couple of wine glasses for us. “Any preference on wine?”
I made a sound between a laugh and a nervous chuckle. “Considering you’re an expert, no. Something that pairs well with Alfredo?”
“I’ll try not to disappoint.”
There was no way that was possible.
I took a seat, watching as he walked along his collection, fingers stroking the bottles in the lightest caress. He slipped into the cold room and emerged seconds later with a bottle.
Over at the counter he made quick work of the cork, then poured us each a generous amount. A few moments later, my wine was placed in front of me. The sound of ice slushing and then a metal bucket appeared in front of me too, the bottle propped inside to stay cold.
A cloth napkin appeared in his hand. “Allow me,” he said, leaning forward and spreading it over my lap before I could stop him.
He'd thought of everything. My heart fluttered as he took the seat opposite me.
He hesitated, his brows drawing low as if in thought, then he flourished his hand. Music started from somewhere above, the sounds drifting down to us. Classical, this time. “There. That’s better.”
Now he really had thought of everything.
I was in so much trouble.
Bastian inhaled. “Damn, this smells amazing. I’ll have you know, I’m a bit of an Alfredo connoisseur.”
“Crap,” I muttered under my breath. “Knowing how you cook, I’d have cooked something else then.”
“Why? Afraid I’ll be a harsh critic?”
I snorted. “I’d rather you be harsh than tell me lies.”
“Noted. Let’s see then.”
He twirled fettuccini around his fork. I held my breath as he took a bite. His face gave nothing away—absolutely nothing. He swallowed, then his eyes lifted to mine and a smile spread across his lips. “It’s perfect.”
My stomach swooped. He took another bite as I managed to find my voice. “I… You’re just saying that.”
“I told you I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Instead of answering, I picked up my fork and speared a piece of chicken, dragging it through the sauce and stuffing it into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed, then smiled. “Okay, in your defense, this might be the best Alfredo I’ve ever made.”
“See? And I know my Alfredo. It happens to be one of my favorite comfort dishes.”
“It is?”
“Yes, which is why I am so pleased you made it tonight. Thank you. That means a lot. Things got…a little out of hand earlier and I got home later than expected.” Something flashed in his expression, there and gone.
I wanted to ask about it but didn’t want to pry. Instead, I picked up my glass, now coated in condensation. I swirled it a couple of times before taking a sip. Crisp, light, buttery flavor spread across my tongue. The perfect palette cleanser.
“I love Chardonnay,” I murmured, taking another sip. “This is good. Really good.”
We ate in silence for several minutes. I devoured half my plate before slowing down. Bastian inhaled most of his. If I’d doubted him initially, the vigor with which he ate changed my mind. There was something indescribably satisfying seeing him eat my food. And not just eat it but enjoy it.
“Mmm…just the right amount of spice,” he said, leaning back and stretching.
“The red pepper flakes.”
“Right, I noticed that. Nice addition. I like adding it to mine, too.”
I grinned, butterflies bursting through my stomach. He finished off his glass and refilled it, then topped mine off. Like the wine last night, this one went down so smoothly.
“So, what did you get up to today while I was out?”
“Oh. Not much.” I gave him the abridged version of what I’d done, taking sips of wine between my words.
He nodded, listening patiently. His eyes glittered with curiosity when I told him I’d talked with Vivi, but he didn’t ask about the conversation.
Maybe he didn’t need to. He could probably tell just by my voice.
Another silence fell before he said, “I think Luke is behind Professor Miller’s death.”
I faltered, my breath stalling in my chest. I recovered and took a gulp of wine. Then another. It did little to calm my racing heart. “I had the same hunch.”
“Tell me your theories and I’ll see if they align with mine.”
“Luke was always overly curious about artifacts. That’s the first red flag—given what we’ve discovered. He shouldn’t have had trouble tracking down Professor Miller. He knew we worked together—probably still held a grudge from that night, when she interfered.”
Bastian listened patiently, taking a moment to refill our glasses while I spoke.
The bottle was emptied. I watched him set it back in the bucket as I continued.
“I wouldn’t have suspected him, except that he found me not long after Jane’s death, that night at Vortex.
But then, with my apartment getting trashed and Peter’s body.
” I shook my head, thoughtful. “That was too coincidental. I wasn’t positive until that happened—like a gut feeling—that it was him.
But the missing badge? The artifacts in the library. It’s too suspicious.”
Bastian nodded, his fingers drumming the table. He took a sip of wine before speaking. “So, you think Luke could be behind the sleepers too?”
Sleepers. It was a fitting name, given the name of the harp.
“I mean, I wouldn’t have thought him capable of that much, but he always showed a hunger for power, which didn’t become apparent until we’d been together for a while. He must be. He has to be.” Dread formed in my gut. I clutched my arms against my chest like I could ward off the emotion.
“I hadn’t believed the two might be intertwined,” Bastian mused, “but you might be right. I received more intel this afternoon—from the vampires. A number of their people have suffered the same sleeping episodes.”
Chills raced down my spine.
“How is he doing it?” I whispered. “I never learned how the harp worked. Does he need to play it in the vicinity of the person he wants to affect? Or what?”
“I was hoping you’d know.”
I shook my head, a little mad at myself. Mad that I hadn’t pushed Jane harder for details. Had Luke? That night when he’d invaded her home? Had he hurt her, forced the information out of her?
My stomach roiled. The pasta and wine turned into a hard ball. I took a deep, calming breath.
Bastian sat back in his chair. “If we don’t know how it’s used, we are at risk.”
“You think he’d use it against us?”
A low growl rose in his chest. “He could have used it against you in the alley that night.”
An ache formed at the back of my throat. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For coming for me, I mean.”
“You’re welcome, sugar. I told you I’d keep you safe, and I intend to.”
A ball of warmth dropped into my belly. The threat of Luke faded into the distance. Bastian had a way of making things feel less frightening with just his mere presence and reassurance.
He rocked back on his chair legs, rubbing the back of his neck. “We need to form a plan to catch Luke, but I think for now, we table it.”
“We?”
“You heard me correctly.” My eyes narrowed.
“I have a feeling you’ll be instrumental in catching this asshole.
And anyway, if I could leave you out of it, I would.
I want nothing more than to flay the skin from his bones.
There’s no guarantee I won’t. My contractor never required me to keep him alive.
So…no promises there.” I made a choking sound, something tightening between my legs at the menace in his voice.
It shouldn’t have sounded so fucking hot—shouldn’t have turned me on.
“But if he wants you badly enough, then I’ll need you. ”
“You’re going to use me as bait?” My eyes widened, the realization sinking in.
“Possibly. Like I said, let me think on it. I’ve had a hell of a day. I need some sleep. We can discuss it in the morning.”
He drained his wine and stood. My eyes roved over his body. He set the glass on the table, waved a hand, and our plates disappeared.
“Thanks for dinner, Eleanor. That was a treat.”
“You’re welcome.” My voice was soft.
“Good night, sleep tight, and close the door on your way out,” he added, winking. Then he headed for the stairs, leaving me alone surrounded by hundreds of thousands of dollars of wine.