Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,36
hand, slicing his palm. Blood and scotch dripped from his fist.
“I… need a few moments alone,” he finally said, cool and collected once again. “Please leave me, Charlotte.”
Charley was at a loss, the emotional roller coaster taking its toll. Rising to her feet, she glanced around the study, but couldn’t seem to make herself take a step. “I don’t… where should I…”
“There are thousands upon thousands of square feet in this manor, Charlotte. Inside and out. Take your pick.”
By the time Charley returned from her exile in the rose garden, the broken glass was gone and two fresh drinks sat on the end table, one for each of them.
Dorian was back in his chair, gazing once again into the flames.
“I apologize for the outburst,” he said without looking up at her. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Understandable.” Charley sighed and took her seat, pulling the blanket back over her shoulders. It was warm from the fire, the next best thing to a hug. “I dropped a few bombs on you. Nuclear bombs.”
“It had nothing to do with you, and even if it had, that’s not an excuse.” At this, he finally looked at her, his gaze trailing down to her throat, where Rudy’s fingerprints still stained her skin. “I know I’ve said things… I know I get… intense. I’m…” He closed his eyes and shook his head, the muscles on his jaw ticking. “I don’t want you to feel threatened by me. Ever, for any reason.”
Charlotte sighed, resisting the urge to slip into Dorian’s arms, to curl up against his strong, muscular chest. It was her favorite spot in the world, the place where she’d felt the most safe.
Threatened? How could he even think that?
“I don’t,” she said. “I never have.”
Dorian opened his eyes and met her gaze, but his thoughts were completely veiled. Waiting for him to speak again, she studied his face, drinking in the honey color of his eyes, his strong jaw, the perfect angle where his neck met his shoulder. She loved that spot—loved kissing it, biting it, nuzzling it, inhaling his clean, masculine scent. She wondered now—selfishly, but there it was—if he still longed for her kiss as much as she still longed for his.
In that moment, Charley wanted to tell him all of the things she’d left out of her confession, the feelings still roiling inside her. Dorian, I’m in love with you too. I can’t imagine my life—however screwed-up—without you. I’m so, so sorry, and I’ll spend forever making it up to you if you’ll just give me another chance…
“I’m out,” she said instead, surprising herself. “No matter what happens, I’m never going back to that life. I swear it, Dorian. I’m done with the con game. Whatever happens between us, I just… I want you to know that.”
His eyes flickered in the firelight, but if he had a response to her latest confession, he wasn’t sharing it.
“There’s something still bothering me about the Rogozin connection,” he said instead. “Vincent Estas.”
Charley nodded. Dorian had told her about Estas last night—the demonic art dealer connected to both the Hermes statue and the LaPorte painting. He worked for Rogozin. It couldn’t have been a coincidence.
“The big heist you told me about,” Dorian said. “When those pieces were first stolen. I presume it was one of your crew’s schemes?”
“The scheme of all schemes,” Charley said, a familiar knot of pain tightening her throat.
She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to continue, but the words kept getting stuck, caught in that tight ball at the back of her throat. Like everything else she’d shared with him today, the story of her father’s death was one she’d never spoken aloud. And now, sitting in his butter-soft leather chair, the smoky scent of the fire filling her senses, she had no idea where to begin.
Dorian sighed. “Charlotte, I want to help you and your sister. I will help you. But I need you to be honest with me. No more half-truths and cover-ups, no more sneaking around, no more lies. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Charley nodded, her eyes filling with tears at the sudden compassion thickening his voice. She didn’t deserve to take comfort in it, but she couldn’t help it. She felt so safe with Dorian, so protected. No matter how badly she’d fucked things up, he was a vampire of his word, and he was going to help her.