The quiver of nervous anticipation surprised Estelle as she sat in Eric’s dining room. It had been weeks since she’d seen Stephan, and their last encounter had been, if not tense, uncomfortable—like all their interactions lately. She sighed and stared at the table. The edge of her white coffee cup was smeared with her Ruby Woo lipstick. To her right was a platter of hash browns, the edges a beautiful crispy golden brown. She eyed them covetously, then filled her plate for the third time.
A shadow across the table caused Estelle to look up and she forced herself to breathe normally. This is a work meeting. Nothing more. It would be easier if Stephan was say, a million times less attractive. He nodded to her before going to the sideboard to fetch himself a coffee, and she took the opportunity to admire the breadth of his shoulders under the fitted sweater he wore. When he turned, cup in hand, his hazel eyes were gorgeously light against his mahogany skin but his expression was tight, as though that slight layer of tension she’d noticed before had become a smothering blanket.
That was unusual. As a masquerada, Stephan had perfect control over his every action and look. This meant either he was giving her a deliberate message that he didn’t want to be here, or he was simply too tired to bother acting around her.
It wasn’t like either of them had a choice. Eric and Wavena had decided the two of them would work together, so work together they would, even though Stephan hadn’t been the easiest person to get along with lately. She tried to drum up more sympathy—she knew losing Tom had been hard on him—but too much of her attention was fixed on her own problems.
You’re going to mess it all up.
That terrible doubt, previously quieted by her manageable job at JDPR, had boosted into overdrive since Cressida died. She worked endless hours doing her best to prove herself, worried about making the wrong move, the wrong decision. She was trained and she knew she was good, but she needed to be better than that. She needed to show Wavena and the others—all the others—that she wasn’t too immature for the job, though she was a good hundred years younger than Cressida had been when she became seneschal.
She didn’t want to do this, but since she had to, she was going to do her best.
“Good morning,” she said.
He took a sip of coffee as he sat down across from her. “I heard you were with Minh last night.”
“I ran into him at the drugstore.”
“Oh.”
“How was Wagosh?”
“Good. Cold. Less snow than here, oddly.”
“Interesting.”
There was a long silence as they drank their coffee. Stephan finally broke the tension. “What’s the plan?”
Estelle grabbed her laptop with relief. They could talk about work and escape any uncomfortable conversations, including how incredible he looked leaning back in the chair with his eyes hooded against the glare of the sun. “I thought we could run through our joint security assets this morning. Wavena wants a report by dusk.”
“That sounds like something you can do with Mai. She’ll have a better idea of what we have.” He gazed past her shoulder.
This was going even worse than she anticipated. They were going to need a conversation. Estelle laid her hands on the clean white tablecloth and looked him in the eyes. Stephan’s face was shuttered and she had difficulty reading him. “I think we need to talk,” she said.
Stephan burst out laughing. “Man, looks like everyone wants to talk to me.” He leaned back and gestured for her to continue as if he was some sort of king.
When she opened her mouth, the hurt of the last few months tumbled out. “You’ve been a total dick to me for ages and I want to know what the hell’s going on in your head. What did I do?”
Stephan’s eyes narrowed. “Did you think maybe it hasn’t anything to do with you? I lost one of my best friends in battle.”
She refused to let him avoid the issue. “Then why am I the only one you’re staying clear of? You went for dinner with Caro. You train with Mai. You talk to Evie and Miaoling and Cormac.”
She wondered if he would comment on the fact she had a very good handle on what he had been doing with his time, but instead he looked out the window. There was a silence so long she felt an hour had passed before he spoke. “We talk about Tom,” he said.
Estelle sighed. “We all miss Tom.” Tom Minor, Eric’s security chief, hadn’t been heard from since the fight with the Dawning. Estelle and the rest silently considered Tom dead, but Stephan refused to believe it until he saw a body.
“I’m taking a while to get over it,” he said. “Since I could live for another several hundred years, I figured I had some time.”
“I’m not trying to hurry your grieving process.”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
“That is exactly what I’m talking about.” Estelle reached out and ran her finger along the lip marks on her coffee cup, smudging them into a crimson swirl. “This isn’t like you. I think you need help.”
“Like you?”
She glared at him. “We need to work together and you’re making it impossible. I meant a therapist.”
“I talked to one. I talked to three, actually. There are only so many deep breaths and memories of my childhood I can take.”
“Maybe you need something more.”
The tablecloth wrinkled under his hands. “More like what?”
“I can help you.” She knew the moment she said it she had miscalculated. A hot wave of shame flooded her. It was the exactly the wrong thing to say. Cressida would never have been so stupid.
Stephan didn’t move. “You mean go in my head and mess around.” It wasn’t even a question.
“It’s not messing around,” Estelle tried to keep her voice steady, caught between her initial embarrassment at misreading the situation and a new anger caused by his lack of trust in her. Stephan had always been suspicious of her compulsion ability, a talent shared by all vampires but weapon-sharp in her. Vampires had built an intense moral code regarding when extremely invasive action was allowed—it wasn’t like subtly urging a bartender to add a half-ounce to the glass. She had explained it to Stephan, and had repeated it several times more, but he simply refused to believe. She wasn’t sure if it hurt more that he doubted her integrity or skill.
The slight smile on Stephan’s face didn’t fool her; anger simmered deep in his eyes. “I don’t want your help,” he said, enunciating every word. “I don’t need your help and I definitely don’t want you in my head telling me what to do.”
“It was simply an offer to help you cope.”
“I’m coping fine, thanks.” His smile widened. “I may not be coping in the way you want, but that’s not my fault and that’s not my problem.”
“It’s my problem if it interferes with our work,” Estelle said. “Maybe you don’t understand the depth of the challenges we’re facing.” This was a low hit, given his role as Eric’s deputy, but she didn’t care.
“I understand perfectly and I also understand I don’t want or need you rooting around in my brain and my memories so you can get a few memos off faster.”
They glared at each other across the table.
* * * *
How dare she?
Estelle had already turned back to her laptop, tapping away as if it was no big deal that she’d planned to fumble around in his head.
Fuck that. He didn’t need to be fixed. She didn’t like how he was dealing with Tom’s disappearance—that was her problem. She was jealous he talked to his own people, his own friends, instead of her? Her problem. They’d slept together once, and it was incredible. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The more he’d gotten to know her the more he’d realized that he wanted more than friendship—and it was killing him that she didn’t?
That was his problem and he was an asshole to take it out on her.
He stared out the window, drumming his fingers against the table and thinking about how things had changed. They’d met a year ago when Estelle was working as the receptionist for JDPR, the supernatural PR company.
He’d noticed her immediately—it was hard not to—and had to stop from laughing out loud when she’d eventually dropped him a naughty wink and made a ‘call me’ motion with her hand. He remembered that blue suit she wore. It had clung to every curve and made his mouth water.
Now, he watched her across the table. Estelle bit her lip as she made notes, razor-sharp fangs barely visible. Although Estelle herself played into every vampire stereotype that existed—jet-black hair, opalescent skin and huge dark eyes—there were in fact very few noticeable traits that set a vampire apart from a regular human. All of the myths rampant among humans were nothing more than stories. Estelle, like the rest of her kin, liked garlic, showed up in mirrors, and had no problem going for a sunny stroll.
He had called her, of course. They’d had a fun time; got along. She was amusing and witty, with an ass he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Neither of them were into anything serious, so it was ideal. He figured they’d see each other once in a while and that would be it. A diversion for both of them.
Then Franz Iverson and his merry band of jerkwads decided to stage an insurrection that had consumed his life and any possibility of more casual fun times with Estelle.
Then Estelle had shown up at Eric’s house on behalf of the vampire queen Wavena. Oh, on official business because Estelle was also one of the top-ranking vamps in this hemisphere. She hadn’t mentioned that before and had sworn both Eric and Stephan to secrecy. Not even Caro had known.
That had been his downfall. Working with her constantly and seeing how that extraordinary mind worked had turned his previous desire into utter dog-eyed admiration. He’d always been a sucker for a smart woman.
When he knew who she really was and the depth of her capabilities, he wondered why she’d spent the last few years working as a receptionist for JDPR, which she now ran with Caro. Or ran when not busy saving the world from the Dawning. Estelle didn’t talk about it and was so smooth about redirecting questions that he sometimes didn’t notice he hadn’t received an answer until much later.
Estelle’s computer rang a complicated tune and her eyes scanned the message. “It’s Wavena. I’m putting it on speaker.”
Before he could answer, she’d connected the line and turned the screen to face both of them. “My queen.”
Every time Stephan saw Wavena, he had trouble associating the physical woman with the ruthless vampire leader he knew she was. Wavena was a short, plump, cheerful Greek woman with red cheeks and dyed-red hair tied back in a simple bun.
Today she wore a bright pink lipstick that matched her shirt. “Acting Seneschal. Stephan Daker, as handsome as ever. I’m glad you’re here. I want both of you in Florida tomorrow. Plan to stay a week.”
Estelle’s smile disappeared. “What’s the problem, Wavena?” After the initial show of respect, the two vampires settled into a familiar tone. “Should I be worried?”
“Not at all. This is apart from the Dawning, although of course I want my new masquerada liaison to meet with our team here.”
That made sense. They both nodded.
The queen paused. “Your parents will be pleased to see you, Estelle.”
“I will be pleased to see them,” Estelle said flatly.
Wavena sighed. “Tomorrow, then.”
They signed off and Stephan turned to Estelle. “Your parents?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That means my brother Felix as well, I assume.”
“Quite the family reunion.” His tone was a little nastier than he intended and Estelle’s face turned pinched.
“Indeed,” she said. “I’ll get Wavena’s assistant to book the flights. See you at the airport.”
“Dress code?” he asked.
“How about rude, selfish asshole?” she said pleasantly.
“What?”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “That way you don’t have to change.”