Chapter 7 #2
“You lied to me,” I snarled, letting my anger, my sense of betrayal, color my words. He glanced down at his laptop, then calmly shut it before looking back up at me. “You fucking lied to me, Laurent. You killed Daniel. I asked and you told me not to worry about him—“
“Daniel Burgos was a liability,” he explained, like he would to a child. There was zero remorse.
“You killed him. And now I’m wanted as a suspect in his murder.”
“An inconvenience, yes.” The way he looked at me with those handsome, otherworldly features said everything. I was utterly insignificant to him. A fly he wanted to swat away.
“Are you kidding me?” My teeth ground together. I stepped closer to his desk. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say, you heartless asshole? You could have—I don’t know—used some kind of vampire magic on him or something. You didn’t have to kill him.”
“What is it, Miss Shaw, you wish to hear?”
I gaped at him. “I don’t know. An apology might be a good place to start. My credibility is at stake. I’m enrolled in BU’s Ph.D program in the fall—“
I cut off.
Oh, my God. Oh my fucking God. My Ph.D program.
This was going to ruin everything and I felt powerless to do anything.
The air whooshed out of my lungs, taking all my strength with it. My neck throbbed. I placed a hand over the bandage, as if to sooth the pain.
Laurent’s eyes flicked over me. “Return to your rooms, Miss Shaw.”
“What? No! This isn’t… You expect me to just…?”
Just…what? What did I honestly think would happen by confronting him? Laurent was a vampire. Not just any vampire. He was the head of House Sarkas.
My stomach dropped like a stone.
Laurent stared at me, his expression unyielding.
I opened my mouth again, then closed it.
Just this morning, I’d been brutally attacked.
I’d had my throat ripped open. I’d seen Laurent rip the heart out of a vampire.
Rip her fucking heart out. Shove his hand in and pull it free like he was gardening.
He’d done it so casually, so effortlessly…
Heat crept up my neck and I began to back away.
“Good night, Miss Shaw.” His voice was low.
I turned on my heel and fled.
Back in my room, I shut off the TV and began to pace. An abrupt knock cut me short. My muscles tensed, coiled tight, ready to spring. “Who is it?”
“Vittorio, Miss Shaw.”
“Oh. Uhm. Come in?”
There was a hesitation, then the door swung open, revealing the driver—or whatever he actually was. Vittorio swept into the room, his lean frame dressed in a pair of slacks, black button-down rolled to his elbows, and sleek dress shoes. He was striking. His nose, I noticed, was slightly bent.
“Don’t vampires have healing abilities?” I blurted, then snapped my mouth shut.
“Indeed. We do.” He hesitated and then, “Your dinner, Miss Shaw. If you are hungry?” He glanced about, then strode to the table and set down the tray.
I smelled it almost immediately, the aroma filling the room.
My eyes took in the silver platter cover, glass of wine, and a basket covered with a white cloth.
My stomach decided this was its cue, rumbling loudly.
When was the last time I’d eaten? The cucumber sandwiches. “Was that you?”
“Pardon, Miss Shaw?” He took another step back, staring at me. I discerned nothing from his neutral expression.
“The tea sandwiches,” I clarified. He hesitated, then nodded. “And this?” He nodded again, placing his hands casually behind his back. “They were… They were really good, actually.”
“Excellent.”
“And this?” I gestured toward the tray.
“Seared salmon in a beurre blanc, wild rice, and yellow squash.” My mouth fell open. “If it is not to your liking, I would be happy to prepare—“
“No! I mean, it sounds delicious. I just—I didn’t think—do vampires eat normal food?”
“Indeed, Miss Shaw. But our tastes are quite refined, as you can imagine.”
A small laugh burst from my chest.
He continued, “I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer wine, or another cocktail. That came from Master Laurent’s collection. There is more left in the bottle, if you wish—“ His words cut off abruptly before he said, “What, may I ask, is that look for?”
I schooled my features and strode across the room, lifting the plate cover. The scent of cream and fish and rice, accompanied by the herbs he’d used, was overwhelming in the best way. I loved cooking, but my measly finances never afforded anything like this.
I replaced the cover and turned. “Is this your job here, then? Cooking?”
“I have served House Sarkas for a very long time—yes. Along with a number of other duties.”
My forehead furrowed. “Are you like…a servant or something?”
He huffed, affronted. “Miss Shaw, that is an outdated term. If you must make sense of my position, I prefer butler. But even that doesn’t cover everything I do for this family.”
“Oh…”
“Have you need of anything else?” He took another step back, obviously impatient to remove himself from my presence.
“Wait, this isn’t like poisoned or anything?” I was mostly joking.
There was a brief flash of irritation before his expression smoothed. “No, Miss Shaw. I assure you, it is perfectly fine. Anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
He offered me a curt nod before closing the door behind him.
Okay, maybe I should have kept the poison comment to myself.
I dropped into a chair and began uncovering my food, like opening a precious gift. The basket held warm bread. I lifted a slice of it to my face and inhaled. It was soft on the inside but crusty on the outside.
Had he baked this just for me?
I dismissed the idea. Why would I warrant that sort of effort? This was probably something Vittorio had made for Laurent—leftovers he’d scrounged up when it came time to feed me.
Even still, I wasn’t going to let that sour my experience. There’d been a time when food was scarce. When I’d gone days without anything to eat. I knew how to accept what was given to me. Accept it and be grateful.
I began shoveling food into my mouth, groaning. It was good, so good. The squash medallions were perfectly seared, with a hint of butter. The salmon was charred just right. I inhaled everything, using the bread to sop up the remaining sauce before sighing with contentment. My body went limp.
The wine, I savored, sipping it until it was gone.
I was tempted to ask for more, but exhaustion hit me. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open. I groaned—I wouldn’t be a lazy slob, especially on the off chance that Vittorio had actually made this for me. So, I replaced everything onto the tray and carried it downstairs.
I found the kitchen after wandering through the manor. It was shockingly modern, with stainless steel appliances, an industrial grade cook stove, and miles of granite countertops. A giant island stood in the middle, home to an elegant, multi-tiered fruit basket.
Vittorio looked up, caught off guard.
“Miss Shaw? Is something wrong?”
“No, I just wanted to return these.” I walked over to the sink.
“I will manage the dishes, Miss Shaw,” he said, tone sharp. “Leave them by the sink.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
I studied him. “Are you…making bread?” He tipped his head in answer. His hands were covered in flour, submerged in a ball of dough. “You like cooking and baking, don’t you?”
“I enjoy it, yes. Will that be all, Miss Shaw?”
“Well, since you ask…” A mischievous grin overtook my lips. “How are you with pastries and such?”
He tutted. “That you should even ask—“
“I would kill for a cinnamon roll,” I admitted. “The gooey kind, you know? With cream cheese frosting?” His mouth twitched. “Not, like, immediately. But maybe when you’ve got nothing better to do and feel like baking something?”
“Duly noted, Miss Shaw. Anything else?”
“No. Thank you, Vittorio.” The brief interaction had lifted my spirits somehow. Every small kindness felt precious in this place.
“My pleasure. Good night.” If I wasn’t mistaken, his voice had somewhat softened. That made a small smile spread across my lips.
I walked back through the manor, satiated and exhausted.
When I returned to my room, it wasn’t quite eight p.m. My eyes were already heavy.
I managed to make it to the bathroom, forgoing a shower—I wasn’t sure about my bandage—before collapsing into bed.
All I could do was take a couple more painkillers before my eyes closed for good, whisking me into a deep sleep.