Chapter 31 #3
I pushed off the railing and went inside, in search of the others.
Laurent’s eyes were on me the moment I entered the drawing room.
I studied the room. Marco, Vittorio, and Zola were scattered.
Catina entered right after me, carrying a tray with wine glasses and several bottles of wine.
She strode across the room and began uncorking then pouring.
Paolo entered a moment after, carrying a charcuterie board.
My mouth watered. I was starving, both for food and… something more.
My eyes darted over to Laurent. He was still watching me, taking in my fluttering summer dress.
“Come here, little flower,” he murmured.
He held out a hand. I strode across the room to the window where he stood, gazing out onto the balcony beyond.
His face softened. He pulled me to him, wrapping an arm low about my waist and kissing my forehead.
His lips dropped to my ear. “You look beautiful.” I flushed, feeling a room full of eyes on me. “Don’t worry about them,” he added, brushing his lips over my skin.
“Laurie,” I breathed in warning. His low growl of a chuckle only made it worse. He released me, bringing his hand down to circle my wrist. He stroked his thumb over my pulse.
“Catina and Paolo brought refreshments. They will have dinner ready in a couple of hours. Pasta, as you requested.”
“Oh.” My eyes darted toward them. I felt…uncertain.
Vittorio snorted. “Miss Shaw, I can assure you their cooking is as fine as mine, better even.”
“That’s not… I just don’t want to inconvenience them.”
Vittorio sighed. “My sister loves cooking as much as I do—more, even. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a human to cook for, Cat. This one will love anything you make. But her absolute favorite is cinnamon rolls.”
Catina hummed, looking between me and Laurent, a strange expression on her face.
I caught the meaningful look that passed between her and Paolo—surprise, curiosity, and something that might have been approval.
Was it so unheard of for a vampire to fawn over a human?
Or, was it just because it was this particular vampire.
“I would be happy to make whatever you request, Miss Shaw,” she said at last.
“Thank you,” I croaked.
She closed the distance between us with two glasses of red wine, handing one to me and then Laurent. I hid my surprise at her serving me first. I watched as Laurent inhaled, then took a small sip and hummed. “Good.”
I brought the glass to my lips, taking a small sip.
“I think this moment calls for a toast,” Zola said, getting to her feet. She was dressed in a black sequin gown that had silver lines running out from the center near her stomach. She lifted her glass. “To a successful season. May we catch whoever is behind our crisis and make them suffer.”
We toasted. I took another sip. The wine was light and crisp, a blend with hints of fruit. I’d been enjoying expensive wine for weeks now, finally beginning to taste the difference. I still wasn’t anywhere near a refined palette.
“And to Miss Shaw,” Vittorio added, “may she enjoy all that Italy has to offer.”
“To Miss Shaw,” the others toasted. I drank again. Laurent released my wrist, only to caress my bare back. The hairs at the nape of my neck pricked into awareness.
“I like this dress,” he murmured.
A yip interrupted us as Hassan strode into the room. “Well, someone enjoyed her walkies.”
I burst into laughter, all the seriousness of the past few minutes fading away. “Walkies?”
“You said it,” he accused.
“I’m just a puny human. You’re an immortal vampire using the word walkies.”
“Go pester your mommy,” he growled, turning Cinnamon toward me before striding to the table and helping himself to a glass of wine and a ball of cheese.
“Hi sweet baby,” I crooned, crouching as Cinna came and nosed about my skirts. She tried to bite my dress but I redirected her mouth to my hand instead. “I think she wants her chew toy,” I decided.
“Oh, here.” Hassan reached into his pocket and pulled out a little rubber bone. I withheld a snort. He was growing fond of her. They were good for each other.
I glanced up and found Laurent watching me with an unreadable expression. Hunger, maybe? It cleared when he caught me looking up at him.
My stomach growled. I gravitated toward the table and helped myself as conversation resumed. I was content to snack and listen as Laurent plotted with the others, updating Catina and Paolo on the finer details over the past few weeks.
They soon left to prepare dinner. Eventually I found myself alone on the balcony, staring out over the channel again.
The sun began to set, its golden rays casting patterns across the water.
It was beautiful. I wondered why anyone would want to live anywhere else—why Laurent didn’t live here instead of spending so much time in Braxton.
Something told me it was the memories he carried.
Memories of his father. I hated a person who wasn’t even alive.
How much of what his father had done had shaped Laurent?
And would it always chase him, or was there something I could do to help him see past it?
Because loving him meant loving all of him—even the broken parts his father had left behind.