Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,16
father who’d promised her the world and tried his best to deliver, right up until the day he died.
By the time Charley was old enough to realize she didn’t want her father’s world, it was too late. She’d seen too much, gotten her hands too dirty. And now, with the last of her legal inheritance dwindling and Rudy in charge of the crew she’d once thought of as family, she was trapped.
Fuck you, Uncle Rudy.
Turning away from the painting, Charley shoved the guilt and anger back inside, locking them in a box where they belonged.
She took a deep breath, trying to think through her next move. The study was her last shot; the Salvatore penthouse was a total bust.
Which meant she was heading home empty-handed. Again.
One thing was certain. Her next assignment—assuming Rudy didn’t relegate her to cleaning his toilets—was going to suck.
With a sigh, she pulled out her phone, tugged off one of her gloves, and sent the dreaded text.
Nada.
It was the only word needed.
The three dots came quickly, and she waited for the undoubtedly furious reply, her stomach in knots, heart slamming against her ribs. But then the dots vanished, and her phone lit up with a call instead, his image filling the screen.
“Are you going to answer that, love?”
“Shit!” Charley dropped her phone and whipped around, trembling at the sight of her mystery man. He stood right in front of her, eyes glittering, mouth stretched into a deadly grin.
She felt like a mouse standing in the shadow of a wolf.
She hadn’t heard his footsteps in the hall. Hadn’t heard the door. Hadn’t heard so much as a single breath.
Yet there he was, right in her fucking space. Lurking. Looming. Intimidating.
Tempting.
“My, my,” he said, his voice as smooth as the expensive scotch he drank. “Someone’s been a bad kitty.”
You have no fucking idea…
On the floor, the phone blinked up at her, but Charley ignored it, reaching into her purse instead.
“Don’t come any closer.” She pointed Beyoncé at his chest. “Or I’ll fry your ass with—”
“Fifty thousand volts. I’m aware.” Ignoring the threat, he bent down and grabbed her phone from the floor, glancing at the screen. “Shall I tell this… Rudy… you’re otherwise occupied trying to fry the ass of an innocent man?”
“I wouldn’t. Not unless you want a side order of Jimmy Choo to the nuts.” Charley lifted her foot to show him the spiked heel, then held out her free hand, gesturing for the phone.
The man obliged, but that damn smirk wasn’t going anywhere.
“Twice in one night I find you sneaking around where you shouldn’t be. What are the chances?” His gaze trailed down her body, then back up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of her still-gloved hand. “And what in the devil’s name are you doing?”
Panic rose in her chest, but she quickly tamped it down. Her little rebellion had made her careless tonight—drinking, flirting, not covering her tracks. She’d gotten herself noticed—more than noticed.
But that didn’t mean she was exposed. Not yet.
“Not that it’s any of your business…” Lowering the taser, she peeled the satin glove from her hand and stuffed it into her purse. “I needed some privacy. For the phone call.”
“The one you still haven’t answered.”
“I was going to, but then you interrupted.”
“By all means.” He nodded toward the phone, still blinking in her hand like a bomb about to go off.
Right. Because getting reamed out in front of the hot stranger who’d busted her sneaking into the study at a fancy-ass auction sounded like the perfect way to wrap up her Friday night.
She sent the call to voicemail and shoved the phone and Beyoncé back into her purse.
“Does this mean my ass is safe?” he asked.
“For now.”
“Perfect.” His grin fell, his gaze turning cold and calculating. “Now tell me what you’re really doing in here.”
“I… I needed…” Charley shook her head, thoughts and words crashing together in her brain, her heart hammering.
“No alibi, love?” He took a step closer, his crisp, delicious scent invading her senses. “You’d better think of something. Security is right down the hall.” He cocked his head as he pretended to listen for the guard’s footsteps. “Getting close, I’ll bet. Maybe I should let him know we’re—”
“Wait! I can explain.”
The man took another step closer. Lowering his voice to a raspy whisper, he said, “I’m on pins and needles.”
Charley forced herself to stand strong, but inside, she was quaking like a prom-night virgin. Hundreds of jobs, hundreds of scenes, and she’d never been so damn reckless,