Page 46 of The Devil and the Dancer
Instead of paintings, frosted false windows had been built into the room, lit to give the feeling of sunrise and sunset but without any actual danger. Gavin had learned long ago that he needed a sense of time to remain sane, even as an immortal. The few times he woke during the day, he needed the suggestion of light. In the past, he used a lamp or built his houses to allow indirect light. Technology made life for the modern vampire a bit easier.
The television in the corner turned on automatically at sunset, playing a program on the nature channel that recorded sunrises and sunsets in far-flung locations. Tonight it was a sunset in Ibiza. The midnight blue of the sky echoed the glimmering water.
Would Chloe like Ibiza? He had a club there he’d started in the sixties. Maybe it was due for a spot check.
If she wanted to come with him. If he hadn’t scared her off.
Gavin walked to the shower and turned on the water, trying not to second-guess himself. The conversation had been necessary. There was no use wasting their time or playing around the edges of a relationship if it wasn’t what both of them wanted. He was no longer interested in taking a casual lover.
He ignored the vulnerable feeling of throwing his heart into Chloe’s lap to see what she’d do with it. She was a kind person. If she didn’t want what he did, she wouldn’t be cruel. Polite rejection might crush his heart, but he’d lived without it beating for a century. He’d survive. He always survived.
Whether he’d be able to step away from her was another question.
Gavin finished washing up and chose his uniform for the night, a worn T-shirt and a comfortable pair of old jeans. He didn’t have any meetings tonight, and he wasn’t planning to go anywhere. He’d get Vivian out of the house and then wait.
Because he was a fucking idiot.
He walked out of his room and saw Vivian’s luggage piled in the entryway. Veronica was checking something on a clipboard—she did love her clipboards—and Renard was acting as Vivian’s mule, carting things out of the bedroom.
Gavin went to find his sister. Vivian was standing at the vanity in the guest room, staring at her face.
“Vivi?”
“Can you see it, Gavin?”
He walked over, tilted her chin to the side, and answered the same way he had for a century. “Not even a little bit.”
The burn that their sire had once left on her was so deep it had taken a decade to heal. Vivian had been young when the bastard had done it. She’d been annoying him one night, so he purposely dragged her out of her light-safe room and laid her in a place the sunrise would touch her.
She woke long before the damage could kill her, but the scar had remained for a long time.
“Are you going to make things right with Ramsay?” He straightened the coat she’d thrown over her shoulders.
“Probably.” She shrugged. “Rene is boring me. And his paintings aren’t as good as he thinks.” Vivian turned, brushed a kiss across Gavin’s cheek, and walked out of the room. “Au revoir, mon loup.I will see you next time.”
He stayed in the guest room for a few more minutes, listening to his sister take her leave. He heard Veronica exchange goodbyes with Renard, heard the both of them discussing travel details and car services.
The front door closed and the apartment went silent.
Gavin walked to Chloe’s room and pushed the door open. Her scent surrounded him.
God, he’d been a fool thinking that he could hide her from his sister. He’d been annoyed that she hadn’t moved in, but her presence was everywhere. Hair things on the bedside table. A spare charger by the dresser. A jacket she’d left draped on a chair.
Gavin swallowed hard and forced his fangs back in his jaw.
She would do what she would do. The ball was in her court, as Benjamin would say.
Gavin heard a knock on the front door and wondered if Veronica had forgotten something. Despite her years working for him, she still knocked if she knew he was home.
“Veronica, you just walked out, you really don’t—” It wasn’t Veronica. It was Chloe.
“Hi.” She looked nervous. “I didn’t need twenty-four hours.”
Butterflies werea riot in her belly. He looked so good. His hair was a little damp, and he smelled like soap and leather. She stepped into the apartment when he didn’t move. “I didn’t want to use my key when you weren’t expecting me.”
“Chloe—”
“Nope.” She held up a hand. “My turn to talk. You said a lot last night.” She sat on the couch and folded her hands in her lap. Then she stood again. She couldn’t think when she was still. “You said a lot, and I didn’t say anything back, and I apologize for that, but I was really shocked, okay?”
