Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,71
slightly, clasping his hands behind his back and giving her wide berth, as if he wanted to appear as meek and non-threatening as possible. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. And watch your step.”
Without another word, he scooted past her and disappeared up the path toward the house, clear out of sight.
Charley released her grip on the stun gun and blew out a breath.
Two events in a row with that creep. God, sometimes she really hated the art crowd. At least he hadn’t tried anything this time; Dorian’s implicit warnings at the auction must’ve really gotten to him.
Rattled but undeterred, she continued along the path in search of a quiet place to rest her bones and figure out what she was going to tell Dorian about her “prowling” tonight. Clearly, he’d spotted her snooping around upstairs, and despite the intense moments they shared in the basement, he had to be wondering why she’d gone down there in the first place. She didn’t want to complicate things with more lies, but it’s not like she could spill her guts and beg for mercy, either.
God, what a fucking mess.
A soft snick caught her attention, and she glanced up to see another man leaning against a sycamore tree several paces off the path, half hidden in shadow.
Gabriel.
Perfect. There was no way she could pass by the tree without him noticing, and she didn’t want yet another Redthorne brother to accuse her of sneaking around.
Locking her smile back in place, she said, “Looks like I’m not the only one looking to escape the crowd tonight.”
He turned to her slowly, his movements as liquid and graceful as his older brother’s. When he met her gaze, his eyes held the same coldness she’d spotted earlier.
But it wasn’t his cruel gaze that pinned her in place.
The sudden, unexpected flash of the blade in his hands paralyzed her, unlocking a flood of memories Charley had dammed up years ago.
Where you off to, little girl?
Not so tough when Daddy’s not around, are ya?
Don’t struggle, D’Amico bitch…
Instinctively she pressed a hand to her abdomen, just above her left hipbone, where the ropey, silver scar burned fresh.
“Yet here you are,” Gabriel said with a sneer, “crowding.” His tone dripped with impatience, but he didn’t move toward her—just pressed the knife to a round, red object in his hands.
An apple. Just a damn apple.
Charley let out a breath as a long curl of apple peel fell to the ground. Gabriel carved off a slice and brought it to his mouth, eating it right off the blade.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to intrude.”
“Then don’t.” Glaring at her with that unnervingly cold gaze, he carved off another slice, then turned back toward the view of the rolling hills and the Hudson River beyond, dismissing her.
She didn’t need to be told twice.
Leaving Gabriel to his brooding, Charley ambled further down the path, finally finding an unoccupied stone bench with a perfect view of the river. There, slipping out of her uncomfortable high heels, she sat down and gazed out across the expansive landscape, trying to catch her breath.
Rudy.
Travis.
Ravenswood.
Dorian.
His brothers.
Duchanes.
Hermes.
LaPorte.
Her web was getting stickier by the minute. Charley didn’t know how many more twists and turns she could handle tonight, but she couldn’t bail now. Not with so much on the line.
Charley took out her phone, laughing when she saw the latest artistic endeavor from Sasha—a picture of two perfectly round grapefruits topped with cherries, a huge zucchini sliding between them. Thinking of you! she’d texted.
A+, Charley replied now. Sadly, the conference is bereft of photo-worthy fruit. I’ll have to up my game later.
Up your game all you want, Sasha texted back. I’m still the reigning fruit-smut champion. ;-)
I’m soooo not worthy.
Keep practicing! I have faith in your dirty mind! Hey, chat later, k? Heading out for a late dinner with Darcy.
Have fun! Love you.
Love you too, Chuck.
Charley smiled. Sasha sounded so happy, and that made Charley happy, bolstering her for the work ahead. Sasha might be the reigning champion of fruit smut, but Charley was a champion too—of disguises, of lies, of sleuthing, of playing each and every role assigned to her like a god damned queen.
For her sister, Charley could endure anything.
In that moment, she made her decision. She’d take Dorian up on his offer and stay the weekend. Maybe her acceptance would disarm him a bit—distract him from the fact that he’d caught her sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
Besides, spending the weekend with Dorian Redthorne was a much better