a guy who wanted control.
Ari was prepared for the magical assault on her defenses. She simply stared at him, waiting for it to be over. His eyes slitted; the muscles on his jawline tightened. His magic grew strong, but she’d met stronger. “Sit down, Victor. This display isn’t helping your case.”
She felt the stillness in the dining room. How much trouble was she in? Not from Victor, but Otherworld power was all around her. The staff would be on his side, and regulars would know him. There could be a hundred vampires in the club, and an equal number of innocent humans. Fighting her way out wasn’t a good option. She kept her eyes glued to the furious vamp and mentally inventoried the magic items in her pocket. Nothing helpful. No disguises or disappearing powder. Things were about to get sticky.
Chapter Seven
“Is there a problem?”
Ari froze, recognizing that compelling voice the instant he spoke. Andreas De Luca stood next to their table, his gaze moving lazily between them as if confronting two squabbling children. His distinctive magic brushed against her skin, raising her awareness. Could things get any worse?
Victor’s reaction to Andreas was immediate. He stepped back, dropping his hands. “No, no problem,” he said through his teeth. “Sorry, Andreas. She accused me of something I didn’t do.”
“Actually, I didn’t. I said it was somebody like you.”
Victor shrugged and put his public face back on. Obviously he wasn’t going to fight with the other vampire present. He looked at Andreas again. “Guess I overreacted.”
Andreas produced a slight smile. “Then I trust the interruption is over,” he said oh-so-smoothly. He motioned to the stage, and the music that had stopped when Victor’s chair fell started again. Guests averted their eyes and resumed their dinner or drinks. When neither Victor nor Ari moved, he added, “I assume this meeting is concluded.”
“Then you assume wrong,” Ari retorted. She heard how bitchy she sounded and tried to moderate her voice. “I need more than a simple denial from you, Victor. Like I said before, either here or downtown.”
Andreas sighed. “Perhaps we should be seated if this conversation is to continue. And take a moment to, ah, regroup, so to speak. You will not mind if I join you?” He made it a question, but he didn’t wait for a reply. He held Ari’s chair, waiting for her to sit again. “Ms. Calin, it is nice to see you.”
She couldn’t figure out why he wanted to join them. Was Victor a friend? If so, maybe Andreas could keep him under control. He couldn’t make things much worse. Either way, she was curious enough not to object. His reasons would surface soon or later, and they might have some bearing on her case.
“Mr. De Luca.” She responded to his civility with a short nod.
“You two know each other?”
Victor’s tone struck her as suspicious. Weird reaction to a co-worker. “Not really,” she said.
“We have met.” Andreas continued to hold her chair.
When Ari sat, his fingers lingered on the back of the chair long enough to brush her shoulder. A warm quiver shot across her back. Damn him. Ari wasn’t sure whether the contact was deliberate or not, but it certainly kept her aware of his presence.
Victor picked up his overturned chair and squared off like a prize fighter assuming his corner. Andreas sat between them and signaled the waiter.
“I have found that discussion flows more productively when you observe the social graces,” he said to no one in particular. To the waiter he said, “Antonio, bring us a bottle of Chianti and whatever else my friends desire.”
A little irked by his presumptuous manner, Ari ordered black coffee and resigned herself to something dull and tasteless. After all, what could vamps know about a decent brew?
“Have you been in our club before?” Andreas asked. When she said she hadn’t, he launched into an explanation of its menu and nightly entertainment that lasted until the waiter returned with their drinks.
At least the coffee smelled good. Ari took a tentative sip. Caught unprepared by its excellence, she shut her eyes for an instant and drank in the flavor and aroma. The smooth warmth of a tropical Jamaican sun slid down her throat. Catching herself, she shot a peek at Andreas and found him watching her with amusement.
“Special blend,” he murmured.
Ari pretended not to hear him.
Andreas was different tonight. The playful, taunting guy in jeans from Goshen Park was gone. This evening, he was the elegant vampire, aloof sophistication and dark