Chapter 9
Iflipped the page on my current read before glancing up, distracted by the sound of an engine.
I was comfortably settled on my tummy, propped on my elbows, lounging beneath the shade of a massive oak tree.
A checkered picnic blanket was spread beneath me.
A basket sat near my elbow, previously filled with goodies I’d already laid out.
The air was warmer today and a small breeze tickled my skin.
Two days had come and gone, both spent reading.
Books had always been an escape for me. During the first eighteen years of my life, I would have completely lost it without them.
They’d gotten me through the hardest parts of my life.
My gradeschool libraries carried some of my fondest memories.
If I couldn’t escape Laurent’s manor on my own two feet, then at least I could escape into the pages of a book.
I’d already burned through Nikalia Cohen’s new book and two others.
This one was my fourth, and I was nearly finished.
I shoved a bookmark between the pages and closed it, changing my position to sitting.
The manor grounds were vast, but I hadn’t wanted to stray. Mostly out of fear given what had happened. So I’d chosen a spot not far from the kitchen.
A delivery truck came to a stop at the end of the small gravel drive. A driver got out, glanced in my direction, waved, then lifted the back hatch to reveal stacks of boxes.
Vittorio stepped out of the back door, glancing in my direction before greeting the driver. They broke into conversation, too low to reach my ears. I shifted on the blanket, watching them. The delivery driver began piling boxes on a hand truck. He wheeled them into the house.
Finally, an inkling of a plan took shape in my mind.
While the driver was occupied, Vittorio walked over. “Is everything all right, Miss Shaw?”
“More than all right,” I assured him, patting my tummy. “It was delicious.”
I’d finished off a plate of chicken salad tea sandwiches and the fruit arrangement he’d created in the shape of a flower. All that was left were the brownie bites. Vittorio’s eyes flashed over the evidence of my small feast.
“Shall I get you some more iced tea, then?”
“Oh. Yes, please. If it’s not too much trouble.” I offered him a grin and I swear—I swear—his expression softened. He retreated into the house, then returned with a pitcher, refilling my glass. “Thank you again, Vit, for all of this.”
“My pleasure, Miss Shaw.” He tipped his chin. “If you need anything more, I’ll be in the kitchen unpacking.”
He retreated, pausing to pay the delivery driver. I watched as the truck’s back door rolled shut. My eyes lingered over it as it backed up, rounding the side of the mansion toward the front drive, then disappeared.
I picked up my book, trying to read as I finished off the remainder of my lunch. It was no use. I was too distracted now. I piled everything back into the basket, then folded the blanket, placing it neatly on top.
It had been a treat and a surprise. I’d come out here several times over the past few days.
Vittorio had noticed. Today, he’d met me with a picnic basket on his arm.
I’d been overwhelmed enough that my eyes had watered.
He’d only warned me to, “Please do not cry, Miss Shaw,” and then handed it over, promising to be along with some iced tea.
A small smile tugged at my lips as I crossed the grass. He’d been doting on me. No one had ever doted on me. It left me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. What a sweet man.
I’d definitely miss him once I got free of this place. He might be the only thing I missed. Zola too. And her book collection, of course.
Certainly not Laurent.
I’d only seen him once in the past two days, when I intruded upon him in his study. He hadn’t even looked up as he said, “Miss Shaw.”
“I want to make a deal with you.” I’d closed the door behind me while he just kept right along typing.
So I’d moved deeper into the room, forgoing an invitation to speak.
“You want me to cooperate. I can do that better if my best friend isn’t worrying about me.
Let me tell her I’m okay. I promise to cooperate and stay here and behave myself. ”
He stopped typing then, looking up at me. I didn’t miss the way his eyes traced me from head to toe, lingering on my throat.
“Let me get this straight. You wish to speak with your friend?”
“If you want me to cooperate.”
“No.” A single flick of his gaze dismissed me as he returned his attention to his laptop.
My mouth fell open. “No?”
“No,” he repeated.
“But… Wouldn’t it be better if I willingly cooperated?”
“You will willingly cooperate. Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you myself. Have I not made that clear?”
It wasn’t a huge ask, a mere conversation in exchange for a lifetime of imprisonment. I just wanted a chance to tell Ania I was alive. To keep her from worrying.
“Will that be all, Miss Shaw?” Laurent couldn’t have sounded more disinterested if he’d tried. I had managed to choke out some sort of yes and keep my emotions hidden. “Excellent. Then good day.”
And that had been that.
Recalling the interaction made heated anger rise to the surface of my skin.
Twice, since then, I’d considered asking Zola to deliver a message to Ania. But the thought frightened me. She’d been kind, and I didn’t want to put her into an awkward position. I’d put that option in my back pocket, for now.
I opened the glass door leading into the kitchen and marched in, my book beneath my arm. I set the basket on the giant island and took in the chaos around me. Vittorio was unloading box after box of foodstuffs, looking everything over with a critical eye.
“Wow…” It looked like enough food to feed an army. “Can I help with anything?”
“Thank you, Miss Shaw. No. I’ll handle it.”
“But… This is a lot of stuff.”
“And I could have it finished in ten seconds if I felt like moving quickly.”
“Oh…” A tiny laugh bubbled up. “I guess you vampires have an eternity ahead of you.” He gave me a look that confirmed this. Huh. I’d never considered what that might be like. Choosing to work to escape boredom.
“How often do you get food delivered?” I asked, my eyes lingering over the cuts of meat, tightly wrapped, and the vegetables he’d piled in a heap. He hesitated, eyes narrowing in my direction. “I just didn’t think vampires ate all that much. There’s a mountain here.”
“Master Laurent enjoys a few meals per week, sometimes demands them when he wishes to gather his family. Other times he eats when I make his favorites. But with you here, I decided to increase the delivery to every three days.”
Every three days. I filed the information away, keeping my face bland. “You did this for me?”
Vittorio lifted a shoulder, unboxing cream cheese, butter, and other cold items. He began shuffling around the kitchen, placing things in the industrial size refrigerator and pantry.
I was silent a moment, taking it as a good sign that he hadn’t asked me if I needed anything more. His usual way of getting rid of me.
“How do you decide what to cook?”
Since my arrival, he’d cooked me three meals a day, keeping me plied with snacks in between. The batch of cinnamon rolls was long gone, but when he brought me blueberry waffles this morning, I’d decided that was almost as good.
“I have an app,” he said, not turning from where he shuffled things around.
I burst into laughter. “An app?”
He stood, turning to me, hands on his hips. His exasperated scowl was definitely feigned. “Yes, Miss Shaw. An app. Many recipes I remember, but I like to keep them all written down.”
I’d seen Laurent’s laptop. I’d seen Zola scrolling on her phone. I’d seen the televisions. Even some of the gaming systems in the activities room. It just felt…strange.
“I always pictured vampires as these old fashioned creatures,” I admitted, calming my laugher. “Living in dungeons, grumbling about technology killing our planet, lamenting over the good ole days. This just isn’t what I expected.”
“I see.” He didn’t sound amused.
“Everyone here keeps up with the times, you go out in sunlight, you don’t walk around with bloodstains on your clothing.” Vittorio’s expression morphed, probably over the thought of spilling anything on his pristine attire. “I suppose I just never had a proper source to frame an opinion, is all.”
“Right.” He hesitated, and then, “Have you need of anything else, Miss Shaw?”
I pulled my lips between my teeth. “You know, you do that whenever you’re eager to be rid of me?”
His mouth twitched, but he merely turned back to the pantry.
“Okay, fine. I’ll see you later,” I said, backing from the kitchen. “Thanks again for the basket,” I called over my shoulder as I disappeared.
I wandered around the manor, passing through rooms, alone with my thoughts. I stepped into the drawing room—where I’d gravitated several times already—and went to stand beside the grand piano. I ran my hand along the sleek varnished wood. A throat cleared—
I whirled around. A vampire stood in the doorway. He had dark hair and brown skin. He looked Middle Eastern, perhaps? And he was handsome like the rest of them, with sharp, distinct features. When I looked closer, though, I noticed the shadows beneath his eyes, the haunted expression in his gaze.
“Forgive me, I did not mean to disturb you.” His voice was soft and slightly accented. I liked it immediately. Liked the way it calmed me, putting me at ease.
“You didn’t—disturb me, I mean. I was just…admiring the piano.”
“Yes, a beautiful piece, is it not?” I offered him a nod. “Do you play?”
“Uhm.” I hesitated. Then shrugged. It wasn’t really an answer, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to give one. I’d been avoiding the piano since seeing it my first morning here.
“I am Hassan,” he said, remaining in the doorway. Hassan. Ohhh. He must have noticed the subtle widening of my eyes, the way I glanced over his body, searching for hidden injuries. “I take it you’ve heard of me.”