mortal, but I think what he witnessed is still affecting his choice. He does not wish to go through what he saw his mother suffer.” She met her gaze. “Mary was terribly upset when he refused her offer to turn him. No mother wants to lose her child and his not turning meant she would have to watch him age and die. So Robert bought the Night Club in London as a birthday gift for G.G. His hope was that with so much exposure to a varied number of immortals, G.G. would meet one he would be a life mate to and change his mind about the turn. But I do not think it is going to be as easy as that.”
Expression becoming grave, Marguerite warned, “I really think you need to take this slowly. If you cannot read him, keep it to yourself as long as you can. Hopefully, once he falls fully in love with you, which—as a life mate—he will not be able to resist doing . . . Hopefully then he will agree to the turn.”
“And if not, I get to watch him age and die alongside his mother and have to go on without him,” Ildaria said dryly, and then raised her head to the ceiling and growled loudly, “Argh! Why does everything in my life have to be so damned hard? Just once, couldn’t you let something be easy?”
Marguerite cleared her throat, and when Ildaria dropped her gaze back to her, said, “I assume you are talking to God?”
“Who else?” she asked, flicking a glare toward the ceiling.
“Yes, well . . . perhaps you should consider that you are very young to find a life mate. Most immortals are not this lucky and have to wait millennia.”
“Si, but—”
“And perhaps you should consider that all these difficulties, your troubles in Punta Cana, and then Montana, and now at university here . . . well, they did all work together to land you at the Night Club to meet G.G,” she pointed out gently.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Ildaria’s mouth at Marguerite’s pointing out the bright side to the hell that had been her life, but then she said, “Actually, you sent me to the Night Club to meet G.G., but I get your point. Quit my bitching. I’m lucky to have a problem like this.”
“Basically,” Marguerite agreed with a smile.
“Right,” she breathed and then stood up. “Well, I guess I’ll take H.D. upstairs to my room and ponder ways to make G.G. fall in love with me without revealing that we’re possible life mates.”
“It might help to consider the things he loves best in life,” Marguerite suggested.
Ildaria had started to turn away from the table, but paused and swung back now, her eyebrows rising. “Do you know what that might be?”
Marguerite nodded. “His dog, food, and women.”
Ildaria’s jaw tightened. “Women? In the plural?”
Marguerite shrugged. “It’s why women love him. He understands them, appreciates them, admires and loves them; all shapes and sizes and personality types. G.G. loves women.”
“Great,” Ildaria breathed and bent to scoop up H.D., muttering, “Come on, buddy. You’re sleeping with me tonight. Or, at least, you’ll get to sleep. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
G.G. was on his third cup of coffee when he heard the knock at the Night Club’s front door. Setting his cup down, he walked around the bar and headed for the door, moving at a quick clip.
Purely because he was eager to see H.D., G.G. told himself. It had nothing to do with the beautiful and charming Angelina Ildaria Sophia Lupita Garcia Pimienta. Even if just thinking her name made him smile.
Shaking his head at the thought, he quickly moved through the tables and chairs littering the center of this room of the club and unlocked the front door. The moment he opened it, H.D. started barking and launched himself at his legs.
Chuckling, G.G. bent to scoop up the little fur ball, crooning, “Hey buddy. How was your night? Did you miss me?”
“Of course he did.” Ildaria’s voice, soft and a little husky, brought his eyes to her and his smile widened as he took her in. She’d gone for a professional look for her first day on the job, donning a slim black pencil skirt and a white blouse. Her long, dark hair was up in a bun at the back of her neck, and while she wasn’t wearing any foundation or blush on her face, she didn’t need it. All immortals had