Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,26
glimmer of hope, but all she saw was pain. Oceans and oceans of it, slowly pulling him under.
“Do you know why I’ve brought you here?” He slid his hand around the back of her neck, his voice taking on an eerie tone. “Why I’ve brought you to the one room in my entire manor that turns my heart to stone?”
Charley’s stomach bottomed out, her own secrets and lies clawing their way up her throat. She had to tell him. No matter how foolish and childish, no matter how ridiculous her bullshit seemed by comparison, she could not keep lying to him—not with words, not with omissions, not even with the stolen, breathless kisses that had started it all.
“Dorian, I—”
“I’ve brought you here, Charlotte, because in the face of your intoxicating power over me, I need to remember the past. The mistakes. The utterly dire consequences that come from entrusting one’s heart to a beautiful woman.” He tightened his grip and lowered his mouth to hers, his hot whisper a warning against her lips. “And you, my little prowler, need to learn that betraying the vampire king carries its own consequences. Deadly ones.”
Chapter Ten
Before Charley could take her next breath, Dorian blurred out of her space, the sudden absence of his touch leaving her as cold and unbalanced as his warnings.
He stood behind her now, leaning back against the side of the stone hearth, arms crossed over his chest, eyes blazing.
She had no idea what Dorian knew, but it was clear he’d uncovered something about her. Her mind raced with possibilities, but in the end, it didn’t matter.
By the time she left this room, he’d know everything. Every terrible truth.
“I fucked up, Dorian,” Charley said. “Seriously, it’s the worst mistake of my life—and it’s not even just one mistake. It’s a truckload of them, and every day I keep piling on more, and I just…God. There’s so much I need to tell you.”
“Oh, but there isn’t. You see, Charlotte, I have a great many connections, as you might imagine. Connections in the world of finance and government. In records and archives and law enforcement. In all manner of public and private sector agencies filled with people—human and supernatural alike—damn near tripping over themselves to do favors for the vampire king. In the time it took you to enjoy lunch and a leisurely Sunday drive with my brother, I’ve been on the phone.” He tapped his lips, his words measured and even. “And do you know what I’ve learned?”
Charley shook her head, a tremble rolling from her shoulders to her feet.
“There is absolutely no record of Charlotte D'Amico at any art consultancy in the tri-state area,” he began, “of which there are surprisingly few.”
“I know. I can explain. I—”
“There is no record,” he continued, taking a step toward her, “of Charlotte D'Amico ever having been employed in any capacity at any of the city’s hundreds of museums. Not in Manhattan or the boroughs. Not in New Jersey or Connecticut or Pennsylvania.”
“I’m—”
“In fact, no one has heard of you at any museum, gallery, art school, library, auction house, or antiques dealership on the entire eastern seaboard. As far as the legitimate art world is concerned, Charlotte D'Amico doesn’t exist.”
He was right, and he’d rendered her speechless. All she could do was stand there, waiting for the guillotine to drop.
“You live on Park Avenue,” he said, taking another step toward her. “You seem to be supporting yourself and your sister quite comfortably, yet you’ve got no verifiable source of income. You’ve never paid taxes on anything more than an inheritance from your father which, while sizable at the time, was hardly enough to sustain your current lifestyle.”
The mention of her father unmoored her, immediately putting her on the defensive.
“You were in my home one time, in the middle of the night, in a moment of extreme duress,” she said, as if she had a damn leg to stand on. It was stupid and desperate, but then, so was she. “You think that makes you an expert on my financial situation?”
Dorian was towering over her now, glaring down at her with barely contained fury. “Everything about you is a bloody lie. Look at me and tell me it isn’t.”
She met his gaze, but she couldn’t tell him anything. Everything about her was a lie, and they both knew it.
“And you’re a fucking vampire,” she hissed anyway, desperate to feel something other than the guilt burning through her lungs. “Are we really making judgment calls?”