DraculaVille - New York - Book One (7 page)

“There are no children in your pictures. They are all pictures of you in different places.” His eyes darkened to almost brown. They picked at the depths of her soul like a hot chisel.

“I’ve always been too busy to…settle down.” She bit her lip. Was that really the reason? She squirmed in her seat.

“Must be lonely.”

“Are you kidding?” She flipped her hair out of her face, forcing cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “I’ve been all over the world, and met all kinds of famous people. I’ve had a fabulous life.”

“Of course.” He rubbed his chin and shifted in his chair. “So, what do we do tomorrow?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. Talking about her life made her uncomfortable. It was better not to think too deeply about her personal decisions.

“I’ll need time to develop an outline. I’ll hire an architect to design a model for the theme park and resort.” She twisted a strand of hair around her index finger.

“What about me?”

“We have to prepare for press conferences, TV interviews and personal appearances. You’ll work with Felix and me over the next two weeks to prep.”

“You really think Romania is going to like this idea?” His expression was curious but guarded.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Most people try to hide dark parts of their past.”

She retrieved her laptop from the coffee table and opened it. “Don’t worry. It’s my job to make them like it. And let me assure you, I’m very good at what I do.”

First order of business, she had to e-mail Harvey and let him know she wasn’t coming into the office for a while. Her work time had shifted to afternoon and evening with Drake around. Having to be at the office at eight would kill her. Besides, she felt the need to keep an eye on her vampire.

Drake wandered into the kitchen while she typed. She seriously needed to get him a book to read or something. All he did was wander around her apartment. After she e-mailed Harvey, she sent another to her friend Brent who had done architectural designs for her before. He’d love a project like this. She ran her fingers through her hair. She had so much to accomplish in two weeks, and hoped they could pull it together in time.

The clank of pans in the kitchen caught her attention. What was he up to? After a few more e-mails, she closed her computer and padded into the kitchen. Drake appeared to be…cooking.

A variety of items from her refrigerator scattered across the granite top island in the center of the kitchen. Two pots and a sauté pan sat atop the stove. He rummaged in her spice cabinet, extracting bottles and lining them up on the counter.

“Well, seems my kitchen may not survive your boredom.” She slid out one of the stools at the island and hoisted onto it. “What are you up to?”

“I’ve remembered something about my past.” He went to the refrigerator and withdrew a carton of half and half. “Hmm, fat free…”

“What did you remember?” She rested her chin in her hand.

“I like to cook.” He poured some of the cream into a sauce pan and turned on the burner.

“Well, I hate to spoil it for you, but you don’t eat regular food anymore.”

“It’s okay.” He ran a hunk of parmesan down a grater. “I just like doing it. Besides, you might enjoy a good meal or two.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She frowned.

He ran his gaze over her body. “You look starved. Are you too busy to eat properly? I can help. I’ll cook for you.”

Irritation burned in her chest. First Felix, now him. “For your information, I’m a healthy size four. I fit into the designer lines and I work hard to stay that way.”

He made a soft snort, and poured her a glass of red wine from an opened bottle.

She snatched the glass from him and took an angry sip. “I suppose you’re one of those men who think women should be plump, soft housewives, padding about the house in ugly slippers.”

He extracted the blood pail from the refrigerator and poured the thick red liquid into another wine glass. “Cheers.” He raised the glass in salute.

“Well?” She clinked her glass against his, but continued to glare.

“No, that’s not what I believe. I do think women look better with round curves, soft and delicious. That’s the way you’re supposed to look. Not a gaunt, sticklike skeleton.”

She gulped down the wine in her mouth and clenched the stem of her glass. “So you think I look
gaunt
?”

He smashed garlic cloves with a knife. “Hmm, garlic is no problem apparently,” he murmured and tossed the pieces into the milk.

“I’m waiting.” She tapped her fingernails on the countertop. Anger and hurt gurgled in her gut. She had an image of Gerri in her low cut gown and generous cleavage, bending backward against Drake.

He paused from stirring and glanced at her. “Not gaunt, precisely. Just very thin.”

“Too thin.”

He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Yes, too thin.”

After adding ingredients to his pot, he put another on filled with water.

His honesty and directness stunned her. In her experience, a woman’s weight was a subject men tended to avoid. Drake spoke easily, as if they talked about the weather. Was that a vampire thing? A sort of emotionless logic?

“Here, taste this.” He held out a wooden spoon with a dollop of the white sauce he’d cooked.

She hesitated, but it smelled delicious. And it was. The garlic intensity had smoothed in the milk to a delicious nutty flavor accented by the richness of butter and spices. She ran her tongue over her lips.

“See? I know how to cook.” He smiled. “I’m glad I can do something for you. You’ve done so much for me.” He added fettuccini to his boiling water.

Her anger melted. He was doing this to help her because he had nothing else to give. She swallowed her hurt like a bitter pill. Did he really consider her too thin? Felix regularly said so, but she discounted his advice since he was gay. What did he know about what made a woman desirable? Besides. She enjoyed looking good in her designer clothes. She hadn’t really cared what men thought.

She yawned. Her eyes burned and she had a strong desire to burrow into her comforter. “I have to get some sleep. I’ll need to do some work during the day tomorrow while you’re in bed.”

“Wait.” He held up a hand and used tongs to lift pasta from the water to a plate. He scooped up some of the cream sauce and ladled it over the noodles. “Eat this first. You haven’t had much today. Then you can sleep.”

He scooted the plate across the counter. Steam wafted in waves of rich garlic tinged aroma. He handed her a fork and she swirled a few strands of pasta around it. The taste was Heaven. Wow, he really could cook.

“Well?” He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face.

“It’s delicious.” She ate another bite. She chewed slowly, enjoying the layers of flavors he’d managed to whisk into the simple Alfredo sauce. Magic.

“Good. Now eat up and then get a good night’s sleep. I’ll write a grocery list so I can cook for you while you work on the project.” He poured the contents of the pots into plastic containers. “I’ll put these in the refrigerator for later.”

She cleaned her plate, her only solace that the half and half was fat free. Still, it was more calories than she’d consumed at one time in a lot of years. She’d have to watch out or he’d sabotage her figure in less than a week.

“What will you do while I’m asleep?” She edged off the stool and yawned.

“Watch TV, surf the Internet, make a list of recipes I guess.” He shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you okay?”

His gaze slid from hers.

“I mean, you’ve been through a lot of changes and basically lost yourself in this creature you’ve become. How are you handling that?”

He ran a hand through his black hair and a few strands fell across his forehead. “I really don’t know how I am, Talia. I’m living minute to minute, hoping something happens that’ll make sense. If I look too closely into the future, I’ll go crazy.” He shook his head and shifted his gaze to the floor.

She went around the island and rested a hand on his shoulder. Pity swelled in her heart. “Look, I know it must be scary for you to think even as far ahead as tomorrow. But don’t worry. Gerri and I are your friends. Felix, too. We’ll make this work somehow.” She squeezed his shoulder.

He gave her a half smile. “Thanks. I’ll be all right.”

Something in his eyes didn’t convince her. She’d have to keep an eye on him. She never dreamed a vampire would be sensitive and introspective like Drake. But then what did she really know about vampires? Did they always bite a person and leave them to figure out their new life alone? If so, thoughtful, caring Drake was an anomaly.

Anger burned her when she thought of him being attacked and left by that dumpster. She clinched her hands into fists. If she ever met the vampire that did that to Drake, she was going to punch them in the face, or stab them in the heart, or slice their head off. Whatever hurt worse.

Chapter 9

“Why the hell aren’t you coming into the office?” Although he yelled, Harvey’s voice held a note of panic.

Talia squinted at her bedside clock.
Geeze, only eight a.m.
He must have just gotten to work and read her e-mail. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and stretched one arm in the air.

“I’m going to work from home for a while.” She yawned and padded to the bathroom. Dear Lord, the change of hours was killing her. She never slept this late.

“What’s going on, Tiger?” His voice lowered.

“I’ve worked from home before. What’s the big deal?”

Silence stretched out a few seconds before he said, “Look, you’re not going to screw me are you?”

“Excuse me?” She stopped running a wet washcloth over her face.

“I know you’re pissed about the Fizzola account. I hope you’re not going to stiff me on the Romania deal.”

She balled up the washcloth and threw it at the wall. Anger boiled in her stomach like hot lava. How dare he toss that at her. “Hold on a minute, Harv. If you’ll remember correctly, I’m the one who got screwed here. I’ve given you my sweat and tears for ten long years and never let you down.” She marched into the bedroom. “If I really wanted to screw you, I would’ve thrown this stupid Romania job in your face and quit Friday. You know Parker and Simpson, or Quantum would hire me in a minute. I’m not petty and you know it. I have a great idea for Romania that’s going to blow your head off. Now apologize to me.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Tiger. You’re right. You’ve never let me down. I’m an asshole.”

“Damn right.” She put in a sniff for good measure.

“So you’ve come up with something good?” He sounded happy.

“Not good. Fantastic.”

“Want to run it by me?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll have to trust me and see it when the Romanians do.”
Ha, ha. Take that you jerk.

“But…”

“Oops, sorry, Harv, gotta go. Talk soon.” She punched the END button and tossed the phone on the bed. Let him stew. He deserved it, the big oaf. How dare he doubt her loyalty.

She put on a pair of skinny jeans and an oversized sweater decorated with sequins and hastily applied makeup. At Drake’s room, she paused and opened his door a crack. Sure enough, he was stretched out on the bed. Fast asleep, or dormant or whatever vampires did during the day.

Her phone rang and she raced back to grab it from her bed. The number indicated it was Brent. Great. She could get started on the plans.

“Hey, Brent,” she said as she strolled into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Her handsome guest’s cooking spree from the night before had been cleaned up as if it never happened.

“Tiger, I got your e-mail. What’s the deal?”

“I’ve got a huge opportunity for you, but I need it done fast. Are you interested?” She opened the refrigerator. Little plastic containers were stacked neatly on the top shelf. So it wasn’t a dream. He really had made fettuccini Alfredo. She smiled.

“Are you kidding? I’m bored out of my mind working on an office complex. I’ll pass it off to one of the associates and use your project as the excuse. You’ve never steered me wrong yet.”

She punched the air with one fist.
Take that, Harv. See? Other people trusted her.

Great. Why don’t I come to your office this morning? We can go over what I need.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be waiting.” He hung up.

Talia poured coffee into a cup and headed to the living room searching for her laptop. She froze when she reached the coffee table. Drake had laid out in neat piles on its surface, organized stacks of recipes labeled by day and meal-type, grocery lists, and items to be purchased at a kitchen supply store. What the hell was an
idili
maker?

A knock on her door interrupted her perusal of his detailed lists. She crossed the floor and opened it to find Felix, almost bouncing on his toes. He rushed in, his arms filled with packages, and several shopping bags swung from his elbows. A grin split his face and his eyes shone.

“Where’s Drake?” He tossed the packages on the couch. His spiky bleached hair glistened with water drops, and he swiped raindrops off his sleeves. “It’s raining like crazy outside.”

“He’s in bed. It’s daytime, remember?” She went into the kitchen and brought her assistant a cup of coffee. She gestured to the packages. “What’s all this?”

“Clothes. Drake’ll need a complete wardrobe for a publicity tour. He held up his hands, making a diamond with his thumbs and forefingers, and peered through it. “I’ve got the image in my mind. Lots of dark, but with a romantic edge. A touch of lace here, a well placed jewel there. Hats and sunglasses for mystery. A silk scarf negligently tossed around his neck. It’ll be perfect.”

She pursed her lips. “Okay, I trust your judgment when it comes to clothes. He has to be manly, though. He’s a powerful beast inside, struggling to break free.”

He flicked a wrist. “Don’t worry. There’ll be lots of testosterone.”

“You’ll have to wait until evening to play dress up. He doesn’t come out until the sun is down.”

Felix’s lips turned down and his shoulders sagged. “I forgot. I was so excited to see him in these outfits.”