Chapter 10 #2
I grinned and returned her book. We weren’t close enough to talk about our love lives, so instead I said, “There is something so delicious about a helpless female being dominated by an alpha male who is all gooey and soft on the inside. Isn’t there?”
She shrugged, but I saw it. I caught the quick slip of her expression. A brief flicker. But it was enough.
When was the last time she’d been helpless? Could she even remember a time? She’d never quite find herself in the same situation as the women in these books. A tiny pang twisted my chest. I could hardly fathom what it was like to be her, to be an ancient vampire with unmatched strength.
“I almost feel guilty for throwing my feminism out the window every time I pick one of these up,” I added, smiling at her.
She merely chuckled, then set the book down to stare at me.
“You know, darling, I look at you and almost see this sort of woman.” She shook the book at me.
I scoffed, because as indulgent as these stories were, I wasn’t interested in being helpless.
She hesitated, perhaps reading my expression.
“Laurent has been cold for a very, very long time. But he wasn’t always that way. Sometimes I wonder…”
I waited.
“Sometimes I wonder if he’s ready to pass on,” she admitted.
My brows furrowed. “Old vampires—ancient vampires—they reach a point where sex loses its luster. The enjoyment of life goes next. Then blood. When that time comes, they discover there’s nothing else to live for. I worry Laurent is close to that.”
“He does seem like a cold asshole,” I muttered. “It’s the soulless eyes.”
She laughed.
I couldn’t help but feel a pang of…something, deep in my chest. Despite my complicated feelings toward him, I almost pitied him. To feel like life was no longer worth living, to simply wish to give up…
“I’ve been fighting all my life,” I found myself saying. “I’ve been through a lot of really shitty stuff, but I’ve always found so many reasons for living.”
“I didn’t lie when I said things were going to get more interesting now that you are here.” She lifted her brows. “Come, let’s get you sorted.”
I wasn’t sure how to take her meaning, but I nodded and followed her into her giant closet. I should have been prepared for what she revealed. Still, I pulled in a gasp of air.
“My friend Ania would lose her shit, literally lose it, seeing your collection.”
Racks of shoes, purses, gowns. There was even a giant mirror with a pedestal across from a circular padded seat. Which she pushed me down onto before riffling through gowns.
“Now,” she said, “what we need is something that will make you stand out—“
“No. Absolutely not. The last time I tried to stand out, look where it got me. Right here. No.”
“Oh, darling, I can promise you it wasn’t how you were dressed that landed you here.” She pulled a gown free. “This one.”
I sighed and stood, taking it from her. I no longer felt shy around her, so I stripped out of my leggings and T-shirt. I’d been going barefoot since I still needed some shoes. I probably could have asked Zola to order me some. With my tall frame, I was a size nine and a half to her eight.
“I suppose I shouldn’t wear a bra with this one,” I said, studying it.
“No need, darling. You’re endowed, but not that endowed.”
I snorted, slipping into the gown. It was black and silver and accented my black hair beautifully.
The back was open and dipped low where the zipper stopped right above my lowest vertebrae.
The narrow straps held everything up. The front was modest, with a blunt straight neckline just above my breasts.
It hugged my body, flaring just below my hips.
“It accents your curves nicely.”
“Which is a great way of saying it’s a bit tight in the ass. You’ve got a narrower bone structure than me.”
“You’ll manage. The fabric is stretchy. Now, let’s accessorize and figure out your hair.”
She led me back into her main room, sat me down at a vanity, then spent the next thirty minutes fussing over my hair. A necklace of diamonds—I was certain they were real—was draped about my neck, with earrings to match. Then she did my makeup.
Teenage me was literally doing her happy dance.
“Whoa,” I said, looking at the full effect when she was done. Even despite the white bandage, I looked pretty. “You can’t even tell my shoulders are so broad.”
“No, the gown hides it nicely.”
I appreciated that she was honest. I stared at my dark tresses, done up with a few wisps framing my jaw. My eyes were smoky, making their color pop.
“Thank you,” I breathed. Because the way she’d fussed over me for the last two hours felt like something I’d craved for my entire childhood.
Unlike me, she didn’t need any primping. She was already gorgeous. And just to make me feel better, she went barefoot, too. “We are in our own home, after all.”
Our own home.
Those words made my chest tighten, considering what I had planned. My eyes dropped to the floor, because when I thought about it, I couldn’t even look at her.
“Now, let’s go drown ourselves in alcohol.” She took my arm and led me downstairs.
I heard the soft music before we reached the first floor. Beautiful, classical, symphonic. I recognized the song: Váradi Endre’s Nocturne No. 15 for Strings. There were four sets of double doors leading into the dining room. They were thrown open, making the space look even larger.
The first thing I noticed was the table, like something from a dinner party dream. Two glittering chandeliers cast light over it. It was laden with elegant place settings and floral centerpieces. It seated twenty. Had Vittorio really managed this by himself?
I was impressed.
Next came the vampires who stood mingling—enough to fill the table.
They all fell silent upon my entry before returning to their conversations.
I hadn’t met more than a couple so far. I spotted Hassan at the bar—because of course there was a fully stocked bar—which sat on its own raised platform on the far end of the room. He stood mixing drinks.
“These dinners are always an affair,” Zola said, noticing my look of wonder. She squeezed my arm—a warning.
Because I felt his presence, that uncanny awareness, before I heard his rich voice. “Good evening, Miss Shaw.”
I whirled out of Zola’s hold, turning to face Laurent.
My lips parted, eyes darting over him from head to toe.
His beautiful hair was braided down the back, displaying his gorgeous bone structure.
His bespoke charcoal suit was accentuated by his proud, powerful body.
He wore no tie, and the top button of his crisp white shirt was undone, showing just a glimpse of his clavicle.
I couldn’t pull my gaze away. A tiny tick in his jaw meant he noticed. He probably thrived off of this sort of attention, even from insignificant humans like me.
He was just…utterly gorgeous.