for Stephano as the daytime vice president as well. This, too, would be something they'd have done if he was dead.
It was as he was about to leave to return downstairs that Neil had suddenly blurted, "Thank you, Vincent."
Surprised, he paused by the door he'd been about to open and glanced back. "For what?"
"For saving Stephano." His expression was solemn. "I realize what you gave up by turning him."
Vincent stilled as Neil's words sank in. I realize what you gave up by turning him. It was only at that moment that Vincent realized just what he'd done. It had been instinct. Stephano had been dying, attacked by a saboteur who was trying to hurt Vincent. It was his fault. He'd done what he had to do to save him... without considering for a moment the ramifications.
He could turn only one.
He'd turned Stephano.
"Vincent?" Frowning, Neil moved to his side and grabbed his arm as if he thought he might need steadying. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," he said weakly, but wasn't at all sure it was true. Vincent didn't regret what he'd done and would do it again in a heartbeat, but it was still heart wrenchingly painful to accept what his actions meant for him... and for his future. Whether he could read Jackie or not, whether she was his life mate or not, he could never turn her. He may have finally found the woman he was meant to live out his life with and she was now forever beyond his reach. Or, at least, she would be there for only a heartbeat of time in the many centuries that his life was likely to last.
Vincent turned to the door and pulled it open.
"I... er... I have to go," he muttered and hurried from the room, desperate to be on his own.
Neil didn't try to stop him and Vincent stumbled out of the room, then along the hall to the top of the stairs where he paused and closed his eyes. His mind was whirling. A great, huge ball had lodged itself painfully in his throat, his chest was aching, and he felt nauseous.
All Vincent had ever wanted his whole life was a life mate of his own and now he could never really have one.
"Vincent?"
Blinking his eyes open, he stared down at the foot of the stairs. Jackie had apparently returned from retrieving her notepad and pen from the office and spotted him at the top of the stairs. She was now staring up at him with concern.
"Are you all right?"
Vincent forced a smile and started downstairs. "Yes. I was just thinking."
"They must have been pretty grim thoughts. You looked upset," she commented as he reached her side. "Is Stephano all right?"
"Yes," he answered and felt a little of his distress ease. Stephano was alive. He was alive. Jackie was alive. And where there was life, there was hope.
His smile becoming a little less forced, he took her arm to lead her to the kitchen where Tiny and Marguerite waited. Vincent quickly told them about Neil's suggestion about the funeral and putting out feelers for a vice president to replace the supposedly dead Stephano and as he did, the pain in his throat began to ease. The one in his chest didn't, however. He suspected it never would.
"He's right," Jackie said slowly when he finished. "Neil should at least seem to be arranging a funeral until Stephano wakes up and we know if he recalls who attacked him. And you're right about his putting out the word that a new daytime vice president will be needed. Both of those are things that would be done if Stephano were really dead."
She tapped her pen on the notepad she'd fetched while he was upstairs, then nodded. "We'll have to at least start the arrangements of the funeral. If Stephano can't name his attacker, it may even be a good idea to carry it out. The attacker will surely be one of the people who attend."
"Why are you so sure he would attend?" Marguerite asked curiously.
"Because of the letters. He seems to be enjoying taunting Vincent with what he's doing. I think he'll want to see how much he's upset him by killing Stephano."
Vincent frowned, once again searching his mind for someone, anyone, he might have hurt in any way, even unintentionally. But there was no one he could think of who could possibly want to harm him this way. Pushing these frustrating thoughts aside, he glanced at the notepad lying on