Page 32 of The Devil and the Dancer
“Are you sure about that?”
She smiled sadly. “Ten months after I moved here, I called them. I’d found a roommate. Found a job. Had managed to kind of make it on my own, and I was proud of that, you know? I wasn’t a smashing success, but I didn’t expect that. And I thought…” She set the pot to the side and poured the pasta in a dish. “I thought if they didn’t respect what I was trying to do—turn dancing into a profession—then they’d at least respect the hard work.”
Gavin set his phone on the coffee table and walked to the counter. “And they didn’t?”
“They kind of brushed it off with polite sounds. Then they proceeded to go on and on about all their friends’ kids—the ones who had gotten into Stanford and Yale and Harvard—and how they were doing. What internships they would get when they graduated. How proud their parents were. They did not ask about auditions. They didn’t ask about my ushering job. Nothing.”
“They’re dobbers,” he muttered. “Utter dobbers.”
She laughed. “Yeah. They are.”
“And they don’t deserve you.”
Chloe sighed and shrugged. “I’m sure they would say they deserve better. But I couldn’t keep being someone I wasn’t. I couldn’t keep following their dreams and not my own. I didn’t have any illusions like they accused me of having. I just knew that I wanted what I wanted. And even if I had tons of money, I’d be miserable if I followed their path.”
“Money doesn’t make you happy.” Gavin took the dish from her and held it while she poured the sauce over the top. “Trust me, I have plenty.”
“But you’re not miserable the way my parents are,” Chloe said. “So what makes you happy, Gavin Wallace?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Besides you?”
Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I’m flattered.”
“You should be.” He set the dish on the counter and waited for her to get plates and forks. “Being good at what I do makes me happy. Being respected makes me happy.”
“Being feared?”
He frowned. “Fear can be useful in my world, but it’s a tool I use very sparingly. For my purposes, I can accomplish more if people trust me. Though part of that trust is a genuine fear that I’ll bring hell if anyone crosses my rules. But an equal part is people knowing that unless they break my rules, I don’t care who they are or what they do.”
She bit her lip as she set the table. “Ben says you deal with some pretty shady people.”
His territorial instincts went on alert. “Was that him warning you away from me?”
“Uh… no.” She wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t think so. He just wanted me to know.”
“There’s less of that at the Dancing Bear than at the Bat and Barrel, but he’s not wrong. The point is, as long as they don’t bring their problems into my place of business, then they won’t come to any harm under my roof. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah. But that also means you might serve awful people—vampires—you know what I mean. They could be killers, thieves… I can’t even imagine.”
“You’re not wrong.” Gavin chose his words carefully, partly to reassure her, but partly because it was an idea that had haunted him at times. “But think of it this way: Every society needs a meeting place. A common ground, so to speak. If there’s no chance of safe meeting—of neutrality—then every meeting will end in violence. Every problem will be solved with actions instead of words.”
Chloe smiled. “So you’re a diplomat?”
“Every barman is a diplomat, dove. Some are just better at it than others.”
She put the meatballs in a bowl and set both dishes in the middle of the small dining table. “Okay, enough philosophy. Time to eat.”
“We eat.” He walked to the table. “And then we plan.”
“We need plans?”
“Yes. I like having plans.”And I like making them with you.
7
The plan was Chloe would stay at the loft while Vivian was in town, play host to Giovanni and Beatrice while they were there, and not overreact when Gavin told her he was having her followed.
“You didwhat?”
